LJ Idol - Week [23] - "Making New Friends"
Oct. 2nd, 2014 02:25 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
penpusherLou Bingham took a close look through the smudge covered glass with an eager eye. He reached into his vest, pulled out a tool, placed it on the pane and carved a perfect circle out. He then placed the segment of dirty pane inside a fitted specimen dish, lidded it and slipped it back into the vest, where the analysis was being calculated.
He turned back to his companion and scanned her up and down. She was young enough to be his daughter, or granddaughter, if he had been sexually active a little sooner. Still, there was something about this woman, this saddened, stoic, stately, statuesque woman that he felt a little connected to, and more than a little attracted to.
“Hey. I think I can still help.”
The woman turned her eyes back to Lou. He removed his cowboy hat and reached into his leather boot for a small knife.
“Since this species wasn’t human, and since there’s a pretty good amount of material here,” Lou paused, “I don’t want to promise, but I feel like I can restore your friend.”
“What do you mean?” the pale blue woman asked.
“Well, I can’t make a perfect copy, because nobody can do that. Or nobody not related to The State can. That we know of.”
The woman did a double take. “Are you saying you can save him?”
“He was of that group like a walrus, sea lion, seal, only a hybrid. I got that from the preliminary analysis. And duplicating that wouldn’t be difficult. But it’s that something more: that higher order in there and that might be tricky. That might not work.”
“Aren’t these enough?” she asked.
“Well, they may be, but they may not be.” Lou shook his head. “We’ll have to wait and see. I’m going to go through the rest of these samples and test,” Lou gestured with his knife, back at the window. “Maybe there are other remains, a tongue, some fur, a body part?”
The woman was suddenly on the verge of tears.
“I’m sorry. I know you cared about your friend. But the more we have of him, the better the chances. Now come on, then. Let’s go look, together.”
Before Lou could slap his arm around the young lady, she was halfway to the staircase, and headed back outside.
Lou was still trying to puzzle out what all of this was. Yes, it was an interesting diversion from his ocean water testing, which is what brought him to Denver in the first place, but diversions usually meant something unwanted was also attached. And despite the attraction to the light blue girl, Lou was also slightly repelled by her. Who had a walrus or seal friend? And what kind of gene splicing went on that turned this rather ordinary creature into something that apparently had something close to a human brain? He was starting to wonder about why he ever left Tucson at all.
On the scavenger hunt they found part of a flipper, a clean patch of fur and what was the most promising find: what looked to be the mandible, in a small tree, about 200 meters from the detonation site. Lou had the girl help him pack their finds in a refrigerated case he used for his work, and carried it back to his lab.
Lou wanted to impress her, so on arrival, he entered, turned on all the lights, all the machinery, all the luminescence from inside every aquarium and flipped on the sound system, with the strains of Freddie Mercury singing the opening lines of “Killer Queen.”
It’s really bright in here, she said, digging in her purse for and quickly placing her pair of tinted goggles on her eyes.
“Sorry,” Lou said, as he unbolted the case and started setting the remains on the table in front of him. He lowered the room lighting slightly. “You’re right though. The State would be wondering about someone using that kind of power, which is why I’m turning it up.”
Lou meticulously scraped the samples and placed them into a kind of a mirrored make up case. “To run the generator needed to complete this process is going to take a lot of energy. So, if I use a lot early, it won’t seem suspicious.” Lou smiled at the woman. “My concern is in having enough of whatever he had that made whatever he was, him. And that’s where you come in, young lady.”
Before she could speak, Lou deftly slipped her out of her garments and she stood, completely naked in the center of the science area.
“We’re going to need to have a fertilized egg with which to host the DNA we’re spinning, and I presume you can provide it.” Lou maneuvered a small black table with a thin, rotating arm between her legs.
“What is this?”
“Just lean over and grab the silver handles at the far end of the device,” Lou called. “This won’t hurt a bit. In fact, some find it very pleasurable.”
Her eyes widened as the little arm found the seam between her legs and entered.
“Relax, don’t move.” Lou joked, knowing that you could only do one of those things at a time. “It’s designed to locate your ovaries and to select viable eggs.”
In another moment, it was done, and the woman looked like she just finished swimming the Pacific: wet, breathless and exhausted.
“There,” Lou smiled as he approached her, still clutching the handles. “Let me kiss it and make it better.”
Too tired to argue, and thinking of her friend, she allowed Lou to make it better.
“By the way, what is your name?”
“Jailee,” she muttered, looking down at her hands gripping the metal bar.
“Very good, Jailee. We’re going to get your friend back to you, but first we’re going to fix you up like new.”
Jailee nodded through her almost inaudible sobs.
//
This piece was written for LJ Idol using the prompt: “The Fiction of the Fix.”
Also note this is Jailee's 4th LJ Idol appearance. Her previous appearances were in
Week [3] - "In Another Castle"
Week [15] - "Trying Times" and
Week [16] - "Trying Times, Continued"
He turned back to his companion and scanned her up and down. She was young enough to be his daughter, or granddaughter, if he had been sexually active a little sooner. Still, there was something about this woman, this saddened, stoic, stately, statuesque woman that he felt a little connected to, and more than a little attracted to.
“Hey. I think I can still help.”
The woman turned her eyes back to Lou. He removed his cowboy hat and reached into his leather boot for a small knife.
“Since this species wasn’t human, and since there’s a pretty good amount of material here,” Lou paused, “I don’t want to promise, but I feel like I can restore your friend.”
“What do you mean?” the pale blue woman asked.
“Well, I can’t make a perfect copy, because nobody can do that. Or nobody not related to The State can. That we know of.”
The woman did a double take. “Are you saying you can save him?”
“He was of that group like a walrus, sea lion, seal, only a hybrid. I got that from the preliminary analysis. And duplicating that wouldn’t be difficult. But it’s that something more: that higher order in there and that might be tricky. That might not work.”
“Aren’t these enough?” she asked.
“Well, they may be, but they may not be.” Lou shook his head. “We’ll have to wait and see. I’m going to go through the rest of these samples and test,” Lou gestured with his knife, back at the window. “Maybe there are other remains, a tongue, some fur, a body part?”
The woman was suddenly on the verge of tears.
“I’m sorry. I know you cared about your friend. But the more we have of him, the better the chances. Now come on, then. Let’s go look, together.”
Before Lou could slap his arm around the young lady, she was halfway to the staircase, and headed back outside.
Lou was still trying to puzzle out what all of this was. Yes, it was an interesting diversion from his ocean water testing, which is what brought him to Denver in the first place, but diversions usually meant something unwanted was also attached. And despite the attraction to the light blue girl, Lou was also slightly repelled by her. Who had a walrus or seal friend? And what kind of gene splicing went on that turned this rather ordinary creature into something that apparently had something close to a human brain? He was starting to wonder about why he ever left Tucson at all.
On the scavenger hunt they found part of a flipper, a clean patch of fur and what was the most promising find: what looked to be the mandible, in a small tree, about 200 meters from the detonation site. Lou had the girl help him pack their finds in a refrigerated case he used for his work, and carried it back to his lab.
Lou wanted to impress her, so on arrival, he entered, turned on all the lights, all the machinery, all the luminescence from inside every aquarium and flipped on the sound system, with the strains of Freddie Mercury singing the opening lines of “Killer Queen.”
It’s really bright in here, she said, digging in her purse for and quickly placing her pair of tinted goggles on her eyes.
“Sorry,” Lou said, as he unbolted the case and started setting the remains on the table in front of him. He lowered the room lighting slightly. “You’re right though. The State would be wondering about someone using that kind of power, which is why I’m turning it up.”
Lou meticulously scraped the samples and placed them into a kind of a mirrored make up case. “To run the generator needed to complete this process is going to take a lot of energy. So, if I use a lot early, it won’t seem suspicious.” Lou smiled at the woman. “My concern is in having enough of whatever he had that made whatever he was, him. And that’s where you come in, young lady.”
Before she could speak, Lou deftly slipped her out of her garments and she stood, completely naked in the center of the science area.
“We’re going to need to have a fertilized egg with which to host the DNA we’re spinning, and I presume you can provide it.” Lou maneuvered a small black table with a thin, rotating arm between her legs.
“What is this?”
“Just lean over and grab the silver handles at the far end of the device,” Lou called. “This won’t hurt a bit. In fact, some find it very pleasurable.”
Her eyes widened as the little arm found the seam between her legs and entered.
“Relax, don’t move.” Lou joked, knowing that you could only do one of those things at a time. “It’s designed to locate your ovaries and to select viable eggs.”
In another moment, it was done, and the woman looked like she just finished swimming the Pacific: wet, breathless and exhausted.
“There,” Lou smiled as he approached her, still clutching the handles. “Let me kiss it and make it better.”
Too tired to argue, and thinking of her friend, she allowed Lou to make it better.
“By the way, what is your name?”
“Jailee,” she muttered, looking down at her hands gripping the metal bar.
“Very good, Jailee. We’re going to get your friend back to you, but first we’re going to fix you up like new.”
Jailee nodded through her almost inaudible sobs.
//
This piece was written for LJ Idol using the prompt: “The Fiction of the Fix.”
Also note this is Jailee's 4th LJ Idol appearance. Her previous appearances were in
Week [3] - "In Another Castle"
Week [15] - "Trying Times" and
Week [16] - "Trying Times, Continued"
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no subject
Date: 2014-10-02 10:10 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-10-06 04:04 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-10-03 09:40 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-10-06 04:06 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-10-04 02:03 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-10-06 04:07 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-10-04 05:56 am (UTC)Well, when dealing with a woman who is blue, I think that question answers itself.
You, sir have created a disturbing contraption in that egg-stealing table.
But I forgive it for the creepy glee of the title, into which I could easily read the second meaning of, "Or recreating old ones. From parts." :O
no subject
Date: 2014-10-06 04:11 am (UTC)Thanks for being creepily disturbed. Lou could go either way, but he appears to be leaning towards the yipes at this point!
no subject
Date: 2014-10-04 03:31 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-10-06 04:25 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-10-05 08:06 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-10-06 04:28 am (UTC)Certainly when you're in a storm at sea, you'll take whatever island you land upon, and that seems to be where Jailee is right now. Thanks for looking so carefully at this story!
no subject
Date: 2014-10-05 09:46 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-10-06 04:29 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-10-06 07:16 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-10-06 09:23 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-10-30 08:11 am (UTC)This line--as well as much of the tale itself--has a tone of... I guess I'd call it "clinical hope." It's a matter of that crazy calm required to get through the situation (It reminds me of the morning of September 11, 2001, as I made me way out of the building I'd been in--a block and a half from Ground Zero--and shuffled quickly out of the neighborhood, seeing but choosing not to process the enormity of the danger behind me because I needed to find the woman I loved and make sure she was safe.)