Narrated by: Edgar Thompson
January 16th, 2030
It’s only been a week since I showed Reinhardt our family secret and already there has been a drastic change in how our firm operates. We no longer have college programs. Reinhardt had it all shutdown because he believes it’ll interfere with production. The research and development team has tripled in size with new members from all over the world who specialize in biomedical, bio-technical, and advanced genetic research. Every conceptualized vision ever produced after the discovery of DNA is being looked into deeply and applied to future plans and I have a feeling Reinhardt will be stooping over it like a vulture hungry for results.
I sit at my desk staring at my walls. A picture of my dad and I hang on the wall. It was of the two of us both holding a fishing rod while wearing our fishing gear and I held up a bunch of fish we caught on a rope tied together. I miss those days. I think that was before I started bio-hacking. Before things got complicated. My father was a pharmacist at the time and the fishing trip was one of the last happy memories I got to spend with him. About a year later, he was hired into a research facility. After making a few discoveries in genetics he made a mint and decided to open up his own firm. He began teaching me a lot about biology I didn’t learn in highschool textbooks. I even got to take college courses for it by tenth grade.
To see him in his condition now, well, it’s just hard to describe how I feel about it. I know he’s still my father, but the operation is starting to effect his mind. He once told me even though he was thankful for what I did for him, he wished he would have just died so he could rest. He’s eighty-three but you couldn’t tell by looking at him. His form doesn’t really show it. I guess I can’t blame him, though. I might have felt the same way if it happened to me. It’s hard to pat myself on the back for saving him with that in mind.
Just then, the phone rings. “Hello?” I answer after switching on the speaker.
“Your presence is required in ‘Lab B’. Some of the new recruits have questions to ask you,” says Seagraves.
“Be right there,” I say and hang up.
Lab B is a rebuilt lab that is now used to do lab tests on human volunteers. The thing is, we don’t have any volunteers yet. Just three days ago we wouldn’t even dare to ask to test some of our work on humans. We figured society just wouldn’t be ready for it. Whether it is or not, I guess they’re gonna have to be. Maybe Reinhardt was right. Maybe things could work out. Maybe, this project could be controlled and sustain safely. If we can just find the right code where the test subject does die, grow into some blob of flesh, go insane, or if the body does reject the new genetic code, we could do this. We could manually change and evolve to fit into new niches.
Granted, if it works out, I’d have what I want. A better vehicle to provide a safe trip to Mars where, when the volunteers of the project make it, they’d step onto Martian soil, take off their helmets, and breathe Martian air thanks to forced evolution. There’s some sort of clock that allows us to change over millions of years thanks to our surroundings. What if we could speed that clock up to the point where evolution is instantaneous? What if we could evolve on command as well?
What if we could live forever? What if we could start over, and over, and over and never, ever, ever die? It’s been a curious question for as far back as man can remember.
I walk over to Laboratory B and open the door to see six lab coats standing around a Siberian Husky tied down to a operating table. They all look at me and smile, or nod. Seagraves stands behind the table where the dog’s head lays. The canine looked somewhat sedated and calm.
“What’s going on here?” I ask and I give a stern look.
“Initiation,” Seagraves simply says.
“What do you mean?” I reply.