Robbie Dorman - Regrowth

Jon took a step back instead and went into the kitchen, and made them dinner. Sabrina hadn’t lied. The kitchen had everything. Jon was a decent cook, but he only wanted simple, hearty food right now, so he cooked some chicken strips and mac n’ cheese, straight from the box. It wasn’t quite dinner time yet, but he was exhausted, and hungry.

He cooked as Tommy played, and soon food was ready. He brought Tommy a plate, and then ate as he watched Tommy play, a first-person shooter that Jon couldn’t recognize. He ate quietly, and Tommy offered no words, focusing on his game.

“If that’s not enough, there’s more in the fridge. I’m going to relax in my room. Let me know if you need anything. Okay?”

Tommy only nodded, never looking over at Jon, half a relief and half a burden.

Jon retreated to his bedroom and realized looking through his computer that all his research had already been scanned and cataloged. He read through it until his exhaustion overtook him. He laid down in bed and went to sleep.

“Nice to meet you, Dr. Matthews. I’m excited to work with you. Your research sure is fascinating. I studied all of it last night. I think I understand most of it, but how do you plan on matching the rate of caloric absorption with the rate of regeneration? It seems like that’s the chokepoint for rapid reconstruction, and human bodies can only absorb—”

Mel Underwood spoke quickly, her black ponytail bobbing behind her with every word. Jon had come down to see his lab, now ready for him, but before he could take a breath, he met his new assistant, who clearly had more energy than him.

“Mel?” he asked, finally interrupting her.

“Yes, Doctor?” she asked.

“Could you slow down, for just a moment?” asked Jon. “I’m still waking up. And you can call me Jon.”

Mel stood just shorter than Jon, waifish to the point Jon worried a stiff wind would blow her away. Her lab coat enveloped her.

She smiled skittishly. “Sorry. I’ve been chomping at the bit to get to work.”

“I understand,” said Jon. He had left Tommy at the facility’s school, where all the staff’s children were sorted into groups and taught. Tommy hadn’t been happy, hadn’t seen the need for it, but Jon wouldn’t hear dissent.

After a cup of coffee, he felt human again, and Mel’s words finally sounded like speech. Mel had come in later in the day yesterday, after Jon himself, but had not been affected by the same level of exhaustion Jon had. Maybe it was because she hadn’t met Eaton Shaw face to face. Or maybe it was because her energy was indefatigable.

When he returned with his coffee, Mel had pulled up his notes on a large screen on the wall.

“God,” said Jon. “I’ve never seen my work so big.”

“I hope it’s okay,” said Mel. “I’ve kinda started organizing the place already.” Jon looked around at his lab for the first time. It was impressive. Stainless steel lab tables, multiple computer workstations, and screens everywhere. Whiteboards lined one wall, with various empty workspaces that they could change however they wanted.

“It looks fine,” said Jon. “This is our space. We can do what we want with it.”

“Well, what do we want to do?” asked Mel.

“You said you read through all my research? All my notes?” asked Jon.

“Everything they had on the computer,” said Mel.

“Well, there’s not much more than that. I broke into the lab after they shut it down to get the last scraps. I’m sure there’s a few things stored on the cloud somewhere that we’re missing, but nothing important.”

“Where do we start?” asked Mel. “It seems like you have the fundamental science down, but you never got to test.”

“No,” said Jon. “Never had the means or the permission for it.”

“I don’t think we need approval for anything, here,” said Mel.

“No,” said Jon. “Shaw told me himself he wants results within a year. Faster if possible. Which seems impossible. It took me years just to get to this point, where I have the procedure theoretically working, but never in practice. I’m sure we can get rats here, but testing them will take forever. Even if we’re testing multiple in a day, waiting for efficacy results will take weeks, if not months, and that’s just rats—”

“What if we use simulations to test for us and use the most probable successful formulas from it?”

“Well, that’d be great,” said Jon. “But we would need model rat genomes, plus the power to compute an ungodly amount of calculations. Hell, just for one rat, for one procedure—I can’t imagine the number of variables—”

“They have it,” said Mel. “I’ve looked through the resources, and this place has enough capacity to run thousands at a time. More than we could ever use, honestly. I mean, there are hundreds of labs, so it would have to.”

“It has the genomes as well?” asked Jon.

“Yes, everything,” said Mel. “Basically every animal.”

“We’d still have to model the serum, and caloric absorption rates, and regeneration—”

“I can do that,” said Mel.

“What?” asked Jon. “You can?”

“Well, yeah,” said Mel. “It’s my focus, my specialty. I imagine it’s why I was assigned to you.” Jon hadn’t thought of Mel’s qualifications. He’d just assumed she was a biologist, like him. But Shaw had recruited her with intention. Everything had a purpose down here, even if it didn’t seem like it at first. “Half the work is done already, frankly. It might take me a few days to finish it, and should be good enough to start then. I can finesse any problems as we work.”

“Well, holy hell,” said Jon. “Get started. Let me know if you have any issues, but otherwise, full steam ahead. I have a meeting with Baskins in a few minutes, and I’ll get the rest of the equipment we need.”

Mel got to work, sitting at a workstation she had claimed for herself, three screens in front of her. She typed rapidly, lines of code filling up the screen.

Jon didn’t extend a hand for a handshake when he went into Baskin’s office. Donald shut the doors behind him, and the glass frosted over around them.

“Everything looking good in your lab?” asked Donald.

“I mean, I just moved in, but yeah, it looks like it will suit our needs.”

“Is Dr. Underwood adequate as an assistant?” asked Donald.

“Again, I just met her, but she seems brilliant,” said Jon. “Almost intimidatingly so.”

“Good,” said Donald, smiling behind his desk. “Mr. Shaw earmarked her for you.”

“That makes sense,” said Jon. “She seems perfect.”

“Well, that aside,” said Donald. “I’ve read through your work, and I understand the basics, but could you lay out what a clear plan of progress for your lab looks like?”

“Well,” said Jon. “Mel is currently building computer models to test possible serums. It will allow us to spend time on only the most promising formulas and not waste time on the dregs. She said that would take a few days. In the meantime, I would organize the lab, and lay out—”

Donald waved him off. “I don’t need the play-by-play. Just the big picture. The macro. What does success look like and how will you get there?”

“I mean, success is full regeneration of a human limb. How to get there? That’s more complicated. Finding the right serum is the first step.”

“What will the right serum do?” asked Donald.

“There’s a lot of jargon—I don’t know how comfortable—”

“Give me the layman’s version.”

“It will do three things. One—it will convert the cells at the wound site into what basically amount to stem cells. Cells that can be used in the healing process to recreate all the different types of tissue needed. The bone, the muscle, the skin, the everything. Two—it will accelerate the healing process into hyperdrive. Even if we could get the healing process to work, it would take a long time to finish, especially in humans. Years, possibly. Even in ideal situations, no human can be confined for that long. So we have to speed that up.”