No one was allowed near them except him. The conversion and manipulations had left them too unstable and unpredictable for anyone else, leading Thaddeus to order that only he be allowed to interact with any of the subjects for the remainder of the experiment, as a measure of safety. Limiting the amount of personnel associated with the project meant fewer liabilities. The less deceased researchers there were, the safer the facility would be from any legal action from nosy sponsors and government agencies.
At least, that was what Thaddeus had written in the briefing.
If he wanted to explore the potential of his research, he was not going to let any spineless administrators prevent him from doing just that.
He stares pensively at the large tube full of fluid that contains his former colleague, a thin, short human whose limbs quake violently in their amniotic prison. They’re held up against the pod’s tempered glass by three steel rings around their shoulders, mid-section and ankles, pinning their limbs together. The sedation is so heavy Thaddeus would be impressed if they managed to lift even their pinky finger, but you could never predict the side effects when toying with genetic material, even if only lightly.
Thaddeus nods approvingly as he fishes a tape recorder from the pocket of his lab coat to document his findings.
"Log date, December 22, 2004. Subject name, #PM-001LB. Status, stable." He begins, gleaming sapphire eyes taking in the way the limp body floated. "It has been a week since Step 4 was completed. The tests documented in section 9 of the protocol have been tried out earlier today with complete success. Subject displayed no signs of distress, which confirms my beliefs that the modifications have altered #001's nerve receptors." He approaches the pod. He mentally notes the tiny bubbles emitted by their oxygen mask. “Breathing patterns are slightly faster than what was measured with the control subjects. Will necessitate further analysis.”
He briefly marvels at the vial. Years of having to endure their pathetic mood swings, studying under them like a good little underling… It was over. He was free, and they were now at his mercy. The greatest mind of the century… And now they were his. And once everything was finalised, there would be nothing left of Lubek Borowicz.
The subject’s eyes snap open and he takes a step back in surprise. The shock makes his breath heave if just a little, and he has to wait a second before approaching the tube again.
Their eyes are glazed over from fatigue, regarding Thaddeus wearily, but in spite of the haze that clouds their faded eyes, he still sees bitter hatred fog over #001's hazel depths, the prototype no doubt wishing the worst faith upon his being. Well, nothing of surprise there, he almost chuckles. He’d almost have found them intimidating if not for the thick restraints that kept them at bay. It has already been twenty days since initial containment and #001 was still acting like the same moody and impulsive – sometimes violent – human Thaddeus put into this pod not even a month ago.
"Still so stubborn..." he tutted disapprovingly at #PM-001LB's behavior. "You should appreciate what I have done for you. You’ll be even more legendary after that… Can’t you see? You’ll be the first step to my success."
Ignoring the way their eyes followed his steps, Thaddeus strutted to a number pad bolted to the side of the pod, punching in a button sequence. #001 continued to shoot daggers into his soul during it all, but rather than acknowledge them, Thaddeus gazes upon the small mechanical arms that attach themselves to their small frame.
The bolt of electricity comes almost immediately after. 001's hateful eyes sink deep into their skull almost immediately, their body twitching sporadically under the mid-tension current going through them. They groan loudly into the mask, transforming into a scream the longer it goes on.
Well. At least this does prove some stimuli do work on that nervous system.
They always were ill-tempered, weren’t they?
Thaddeus leaves the room as they are still screaming. He clicks off the tape recorder and ejects the cassette, planning to record a new one that wouldn’t contain the unruly subject’s screams.