Marilyn Sapp stared through the high-rise window of her
corner office, 35 stories above the streets of the city. The low-hanging grey
clouds that straddled the skyline appeared to lay a weighted hush on the
activity below and she could feel the heaviness of the storm approaching. Today
was the next step in her march toward domination of the nanotech sector of the
economy. The composure that graced her face concealed the ethical dilemma that
hung over the atmosphere of Nanobiotics Inc. as she waited patiently for the
senior engineer, Jim Benson, to update her on the latest test trials.
Sapp
had designed the first micro-machines that were capable of self-repair, and
more importantly, replication. The uses for the machines ranged from
maintaining plumbing systems for the city’s waste water management to
rebuilding complete parts for machines on assembly lines. Since the technology
had enjoyed such a high level of success in the industrial sectors, Sapp felt
the next logical step for the company would be to design systems that could
manage in organic life forms. The first trials proved to be highly efficient
and tests on lab animals proved to be consistently effective. The next phase
would include using a human subject in order to prepare the system for mass
production. Sapp imagined the dismay the dentistry field would experience as
their services were rendered obsolete by the machines. After all, she had spent
a the entirety of two student loan installments fixing her teeth in graduate
school, so she felt a twinge of pleasure through her consideration.
From
her desk, the conference phone beeped. After clicking the accept button, she
shuffled her hand through her grey hair.
“Yes?”
She examined the device as if it contained a secret.
“Benson
here,” he spoke clearly and deliberately. “We’ve completed the latest test runs
and you’ll be pleased. The results show a point zero one percent chance of
error and we’ve yet to observe any anomalies. The systems are ready and all
we’re waiting for is news from above to continue.” Benson stalled in
anticipation.
“Proceed
to the next phase. Our lawyers have drawn up all the paperwork and I’ve
interviewed the applicant personally. There shouldn’t be any interference from
here on out.” Sapp considered something for a moment and added, “Just keep
everything quiet. We don’t want to rattle the protesters. There’s already too
much heat rising from the streets and you do remember how quickly things can
burn.”
“Yes
ma’am, the monkey trials did kick up a lot of dust, but I’m confident that the
current team will practice tighter discretion. I’ll notify you when the
preparations are finalized and the applicant arrives.” Benson’s voice
disappeared as Sapp clicked End.
Imogene
Bradstreet had been on death row for 12 years, 6 months, and 5 days before
representatives from Nanobiotics contacted her. She was jailed for the murder
of her husband, who, she had discovered quite by accident, had been molesting
her 4 and 6 year old daughters. Upon catching him with his pants down,
literally, she bashed his head in with a bedside lamp. The jury had been
sympathetic, but the letter of the law prevailed and she was sentenced to
execution by lethal injection. She entered the meeting room dressed in a drab
blue jumpsuit and grey plastic sandals. Her ragged hair was piled on top of her
head and held in place with two pencils that crisscrossed in the tangled mass.
The company had met with local officials and convinced them to strike a deal
with the inmate. If she would consent to three trials, she would be released
from death row and even offered a chance of parole. She sat directly across
from a woman who introduced herself as CEO of a company that produced
microscopic robots. After a lengthy exchange of personal histories, Marilyn
Sapp wrapped up the interview.
“You
understand there is a small margin for error, but our analysts are at the top
in the field and they have assured me that the final trial should go smoothly.
If something does go wrong, you have my word that you will be compensated.” Sapp
studied the lines in the woman’s face. Years of prison had tempered her
features, yet deep lines etched her forehead and worry seemed to crinkle at the
space between her eyelids and the bridge of her nose.
“Anything
is better than this hell hole. I ain’t got nothin left to do but sit and wait
to die anyway. I’m grateful for this chance to be useful again.” Small tears
squeezed from Imogene’s ducts but she repressed them in time to avoid an
outburst.
“Good,
then tomorrow we can proceed.” Cass stood up and extended her hand, which was
gracefully grasped by Imogene. “Best of luck to you, and I will see you after
the trial.”
Imogene
Bradstreet thanked her once more and returned to her cell. She figured the
final trial would be a snap since the first two went flawlessly. They just
shined a concentrated beam of light on a couple parts of her body and scars
that she had for years were reconstructed into skin and “healed” as if there
had never been an injury. They explained to her, in much too much detail, how
the dental machines would be a little bit different. More would be required to
reconstruct something as dense as teeth, but not to worry, they would monitor her
and terminate the process immediately should anything go awry. She figured
since she was marked for a premature death to begin with, being a human guinea
pig could not be any worse. Besides, there was the possibility of freedom and
that outweighed any reservations she might have conjured.
The
thick, ash-colored clouds that spread through the sky sputtered droplets that
dotted the window as Sapp turned toward the elevator. As she entered the pod,
crackled bursts of lightning flashed in the distance and the rain had slanted
and started to slam into the façade of the skyscraper. The door closed.
She
emerged from the elevator and proceeded down the corridor to the examination
room. As she entered, Benson nodded to her and patted his assistant on the
shoulder. He approached her. He explained that the applicant had been sedated,
and all the systems were online. He ordered his assistant to initiate phase
one. A mechanical arm hovered above Imogene Bradstreet’s face and emitted a
concentrated beam of light into her mouth. Her vitals were stable. Everything
was going as expected.
At
first it appeared as a tiny line as if a child had taken a pencil and scribbled
on her face. Soon, many lines appeared and the skin on her cheek turned green and
seemed as if it were metallic. Quickly, Benson’s concern radiated from his
command to his assistant, “Turn it off!!! Turn it off right now, something’s
going terribly wrong!!”
The
assistant furiously clicked on the keyboard and lowered his head in defeat
before he looked at Benson, “It’s too late, it won’t stop until the circuit has
completed.”
