+1 more scientist

[underscene]

He's tall. He wears a cleanly pressed green uniform; a barcode and series of numbers where a name plate would typically be. A surgeon's mask hangs around his neck and his hands are still gloved. He's pristine to the point of unnerving, and everything but his eyes might suggest he was in perfect health. He was not, however, nearly as together as he seemed... but that was the story of everyone, wasn't it? The more perfect the outside the more mess lay within.

To say that Cyro had many questions for the forum would be an understatement. As blip amongst the folk within, he'd been watching and listening to people come and go for a bit of time. With such a well of knowledge (and potential stupidity) available here from diverse physics, realities, time, and law, it seemed like such a waste to ask an open question.

It was at the moment where words caught somewhere in his throat he came to a startling realization: he was actually afraid. That must be the ultimate conclusion. There was little else to explain why, even here, he couldn't ask what he wanted to ask. What if no one had an answer?

"Genetic engineering," he began, walking calm through the forum and toward the front. "Does your world have it, how advanced is it, have there been difficulties with it?"

Comments

[smartass_captain]

Jim isn't usually one to stick around and be buddy buddy with ever Tom, Dick, and Harry that shows up in the Nexus. But there's something about Cyro--more importantly his question-- that catches the Starfleet captain's attention.

"Had it for centuries." Jim isn't making eye contact anymore. The floor just got a lot more interesting apparently. "Last time it came up, a super soldier started a one man war on Starfleet over a squabble he was having with an Admiral. It..." He makes a choking noise, his breath coming out a bit harsh.

"...It didn't end well." Understatement of the millennia, there.

[underscene]

Precisely what he didn't want to hear but not exactly a surprise to his ears. Cyro tilted his head toward the voice that answered and listened with a tight flat frown. He took a moment to observe the man (yes, he could actually see) and attempt to decipher as much as he could from mere image alone, but he hardly stared for long.

"I imagine you incarcerated him?" Something personal happened on the matter, clearly. Something violent. Which seemed to be the way things were going. It wasn't their fault. He wanted to.. knee jerk reaction.. but did not. Not enough information. Calm down.

[smartass_captain]

"We put him back to sleep with the rest of his crew." Jim doesn't know why he's talking about this. He doesn't want to--his skin is crawling just with the memories. Khan. Cyro's odd appearance doesn't seem to phase the man one way or another.

You captain a crew of several different species for long enough, nothing surprises you anymore. Striking blue eyes finally meet Cyro's own gaze. Jim Kirk's jaw is clenched tight.

"So in a way, yes. It's what he wanted, anyway."

[underscene]

Odd appearance. Well, he and his brothers were more close to the pre-fallout humans than most that inhabited their world now. Nuclear war will do that. He was born well after the world disappeared, but He knew that GE's were modeled after the old humans. It was actually strange to see so many around. Anyway.

"Impressively decent of you. I gather he was violent. Could you imagine what that's like, though. Being an experiment over a human?" The man sighed lightly, paused, and raised a hand. "Apologies, I must sound as if I'm excusing whatever he did. It's just, GE's are standard ever since the first five were successfully born and survived their incubation period. Recently, though, they've shown inabilities and a few have had other issues arise both physical and mental. I only wonder if there is a possibility that mankind is just not designed to accept these kind of alterations. Or if mankind is, than can they be helped?"

[smartass_captain]

"He was." Admiral Pike. Starfleet officers. Hell, putting his entire crew at risk for his own gains. And in the end... "I do, actually." Jim forces a smile that doesn't reach past his lips.

He looks pained. Burdened. Could he say it though? The product of his nightmares ever since he..

"I died, during that incident. It was because of the genetically mod--it was because of Khan. Indirectly. That I was brought back."

[underscene]

This was incredibly frustrating. Was this how it was going to end; was he going to slowly degrade in to some emotional mess? To say that murder hasn't floated across his mind more than once was a lie. It's fine, you know? He understands. Science and the evolution of scientific discovery always fails before it prevails but this was human life. How could it be justified to let people fall apart for observation. They were still human beings.

Cyro tipped his head to the side a nudge. Bedside manners was far from his expertise. What could one say to 'I died'? Words, useless things more times than not. He didn't say anything. Simply, he acknowledged it with silence and a bow of his head. "And now? Has anything changed?"

[smartass_captain]

Jim shrugs as if to say 'who knows?'. It hadn't ever been done before. He was still being monitored weekly for any changes to his own body. Enhancements. Oddities. Or at least Jim had been, until he ended up here.

"Guess I'm not 'normal' anymore, either."

[notalldead]

Jesse spits, then has to pause to wiggle a tooth because that spit nearly dislodged it. Once it's firmly back in place, he pipes up.

"Some of the folks back in my gang think that's what started this whole undead mess we're in. Can't say for sure, but if that's the case, then yeah. I'd say there were some difficulties. Unless infectin' nearly 80% of the livin' population of North America was the plan.

"Me? I think it had somethin' to do with fellers in white lab coats or government goons." He might be giving Cyro a squint after saying that.

[underscene]

Concern didn't cross his features but his guard certainly rose at the image of the man who spoke up. Still, decency was required. His tone remained, for the most part, non-judgemental.

"Poke what should and also should not be poked to see what happens is the nature of a scientist," his lips curled up into a tight smile. "I'm a surgeon," he'll clear up, although the type of surgeon he is requires knowledge far beyond your average operations. He's not a researcher in the 'how can we fuck people's lives up even more' department.

"It's incredibly possible that was the plan, though. Would you put it past your government? I wouldn't."

[notalldead]

"Ne either. You one of those sorta goons?" He seems cagey about this newcomer. "Looks like military uniform to me, if ya were to ask. And I ain't super keen on folk who cut up other folk just to learn about their insides, y'hear?"

[underscene]

"Everything is military in my world. Everyone a soldier in some regard, ready to deploy in time of emergency. 2075 nuclear war devastated the planet. Most life was destroyed, records, research, people, plants. Our government has become an Oligarchy. We sustain off genetically engineered sustenance and recently began engineering children to repopulate as the fallout has rendered most people barren. Nothing is organic anymore, well.. not much anyway."

A rather matter-of-fact monologue for you. Although he can understand why someone might take an issue with everything that he is... Outside of being a GE that could potentially explode at a drop of a dime and, with the skill and precision that comes with being a doctor, create a fairly lengthy trail of blood. He would be a liar if he said the temptation hadn't trickled down his spine before. Stalk the rooms of Negus one by one.

But anyway. "I don't. I open people up to replace parts that aren't working and save lives."

A finger points at the next statement, "your issue lays with my superiors. As do my own."

[notalldead]

"Sounds about like what'd happen if the Government had their way back home. Get everythin' regimented and barcoded." He nods at the other man's lapel where his nametag should be. "You a product of them then? With all this inorganic who-whatsis you're on about?"

Regarding the practice of why Cyro cuts open people, Jesse just mumbles around a cigar he's put between his teeth while he rummages for a match. "Sure. I'll believe that when I see it."

[underscene]

It was a logical step forward. When you're on the verge of extinction a strict code of living made sense, but corruption would never leave the crevices of those with power. It was human nature to destroy and self serve. It didn't have to be forever, though. That could be fixed if they learned how to fix it.

"Hopefully you won't have to see it," he replies with ease. "I am one of those inorganic who-whatsis. The first one to survive the 5 year mark. Out of roughly a dozon, five lived."

[brave_heart_verity]

A sleepless night has brought Verity to the Nexus with fuzzy slippers and too much coffee. It beats staying home alone with the nightmares.

"Probably? I mean we have everything else. And by 'we' I mean 'the geniuses who can build these things but are too stupid to test them properly before someone ends up part spider or giant or radioactive'."

[underscene]

Cyro took a moment to observe the woman who spoke. It was unusual for him to see people not in uniform, cleanly pressed. He liked it, though. There was so much freedom here. The right to be your own self. Every single person was different and unique and not constrained to specific courses of action.

"Geniuses who can build these things but at too stupid to test them properly seems to be inter-dimensional theme, I take it." He offers a tight smile. "I understand desparation. In my world it's becoming more and more rare for people to be capable of natural reproduction, but that hardly weighs in as an excuse to treat GE's as experiments over what they are: human beings."

[brave_heart_verity]

Welcome to the wonderful world of fashion, Cyro, where an endless variety of jeans and t-shirts can provide countless combinations and still be a uniform.

"Yeah probably. Or else someone who knows what they're doing would come through and fix things." She gives him a little smile in return, right up until he starts talking again. Because that's pretty horrible. "Oh my god, I'm sorry. But you're safe here now. They can't hurt you here."

[underscene]

That world died long ago. Now he lived in a society that was very military in mind, in fashion, in function. Everything pristine. Nothing out of place. Everyone had a job, a duty, a place to be.

"The infuriating thing is," he waves a hand, not entirely sure how to handle someone giving genuine regards toward him and his plight, "what they are doing is completely logical, so a large portion of my mind understands it completely. The reverse of that is what they're doing is to me and my brothers."

He looks over the crowd idly, "it puts me in a very strange dilemma."

[brave_heart_verity]

Verity would do very poorly in that kind of place.

"The logical thing isn't always the right thing, or the best thing," she points out. "The fact that something's understandable doesn't mean you have to agree with it."

Mention of a dilemma gets a raised eyebrow. "What's the dilemma?"

[underscene]

He didn't know anything different than that kind of life, but it wasn't- well, he supposed it would depend on what was known to anyone who happened to visit. Not like anyone could visit from the outside without experiencing a very lethal welcome package. It's not that it was dysfunctional. What else could they do? Mankind would find a way to survive until they were squeezed out inch by inch, history proved that time over.

"Entirely dependent on what someone understands as right, isn't it? What if your death could grant insight into the ability to repopulate without dysfunction, would you let yourself go? You should," he paused, "but because you're human, you probably wont."

You being him in this case.

[onemorebounty]

Do you mean gene therapy for extant beings, trait-selecting for idealized offspring, building entirely new species from amino acid scratch?

*The tall woman with the firm voice may know a little bit on the subject.*

I think every technology has a phase of difficulties.

[underscene]

He is, for the most part, a cool-headed and rational person. It was ingrained into him, matter of fact. Through the very topic they speak about now. Yet as it's been noted, every technology has a phase of difficulties and this was.. well, one of them. As he'd grown older his need for control and his ire has become something quite explosive. It didn't happen often, not yet, but the venom in his equally as firm and cold tone might suggest a couple issues.

"Do you also think it's right to call the people who undergo these alterations or were born that way as technologies that seem to be experiencing difficulties?"

[onemorebounty]

*Venom is something she knows well. She'll counter his rising heat not with heat of her own, but by keeping her voice cool and calm. She also won't chide him for overlooking her question.*

I don't generally call people technology, no, although I understand they can sometimes suffer as a result of the technologies used on them.

*What sort of information do his artificial eyes provide him? Do they see only in the visible spectrum, or somewhat beyond?*

[underscene]

He was usually more together than this No, that was a lie he tried to tell himself every time he felt it all slipping away. What could possibly be worse than watching yourself fall into madness knowing it's illogical but being incapable of restraining yourself. The full realization of your own instabilities was an insight he could do without. Ignorance truly was bliss.

Cyro's lips flattened with a tight frown and nod. Actually, he needed to take a few paces back but he smoothed that out with a slow pace in an attempt to cover the trigger reaction that ached in his gut.

"The world suffers- my world suffered a nuclear fallout in 2075. Almost everything was destroyed- data, research, people, the environment. It took a long time to get to where we are now, but as time passed the affects of the fallout became more and more drastic on human life rendering children and those who survived with countless mutations and psychological defects. Essentially the GE process is trait-selection. Build a perfect child. It didn't work as well as they had hoped."

He could see further and in greater detail than most people but he had no special ability built into them. No, they wouldn't want that. He and his brothers were dangerous enough. They just needed him to be able to see again. He was the best at what he did in their dome.

[onemorebounty]

*She watches his reaction from where she sits, calm and still, slouched to one side with a foot tucked up under the other knee, leaning on an elbow with a finger curled against her chin. Calm and steady, a serene pond. Don't you want to sit by the pond and relax? There is no battle here, no threat; anger may be safely set aside. The second-to-last sentence of his explanation, however, sets a ripple on the pond, a soft tsk.*

A mistake, that word. "Perfect." Vague yet exacting, an impossible standard for any child to meet. What's your name?

[underscene]

He observed her a moment before he moved forward a little. Things that he knew: more people came under his knife every day because their limbs have stopped working, they've become blind, they can't hear anymore, they have eight toes on one foot, their brain has stopped sending signals to tell them that they are in pain. He transplanted a human brain into a robot shell because her body just set on fire. it just set on fire. Because that was the world they were living in.

The necessity for a perfected human being, one without these mutations and defects and one that was higher skilled and had more endurance and stamina was more than understandable and the reception for it's success was astronomical when finally five children lived beyond five years. It's funny how fast that reception changes when problems begin to set in.

They were perfect, until they weren't. "Cyro," he responded, "and you?"