DreamScene

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The florescent lights overhead stung at Shawna's eyes. She stared hard at the formulas and blueprints she had designed. Repeatedly she checked her research; one small mistake could be the most critical. She took samples from failed experiments and tested new work. As Shawna scribbled into her note pad, a large figure cast a shadow over her prison like workspace. With the shadow, darkening her workstation and the man casting the shadow looming over her she felt as if her enclosure was getting smaller. The man stood there just watching for a long time; his strained heavy breathing the only sound in the room. Shawna got up and dragged herself to the sample counter. She had worked 18 hours straight in this tiny gloomy room. Sleep exhaust and her erg to finish the project kept her going. She tried not to look at the man's face as she walked by; her superior or not he still sickened her. "Have you made any progress?" the man asked. His sudden inquiry made Shawna jump. She looked up at him now. "Well . . ." she said, and then smiled to herself. "Our data shows that the models you gave us to work with won't come out to the desired end product. You see," Shawna said as she picked up a scrap paper. To Coleman the paper looked like a child's math homework. "when we put your numbers into here" she pointed to an equation scribbled in black ink. "it reads R=0.17+0.13log972. With this the R is the variable of the number of times you ca" Coleman was starring at her, the hold on his temper slowly lifting. "You know I don't understand any of this bulls***. Just tell me what I need to know" he yelled, cutting her off. Shawna jumped again, not expecting such an outburst. She stared long and hard into his eyes, no real color showed in them, just a grey slate behind his stare. He looked tired, exhausted really, the only thing that made him appear human to her. She broke her gaze and looked down again. "All it means is that I need to continue working before I can have an answer for you. That formula shows a human's reaction time to a series of events. The numbers and percentages you want this product to reach are not possible, at least not yet, not by what I have found thus far. My models are only reaching two thirds of what you're expecting. The reaction time has increased and so has intellect from advanced brain wave activity, but. . ." She trailed off, thinking back to experiments and charts for more information. "That is fine. Just keep working. I know you won't let me down." Coleman said. He turned to leave. Shawna watched his shadow slip off the desk. "But" she said again, only a whisper now. Coleman wouldn't listen anyways. "It's dangerous. If we keep pushing the numbers, people will die." Shawna continued, still a whisper. "And I won't have it; this has already gone too far, I won't help you destroy mankind." She said, now just to herself. Coleman was gone and she was alone again.
Shawna looked over her notes. Numbers and scribbled equations, scratch notes, even a list of 'benefits' the Neurostatic product was supposed to have, all laid out in front of her. She knew that it wasn't possible. That man didn't need enhancing. Coleman, rich and powerful even before all this, was only doing this for the money. 'No' Shawna told herself. It wasn't just the money. It was the fame. It was all his idea, he was a very intelligent man, but not enough to realize this was all going to end so badly. He had the money though, and knew how to use it, and he put his plan into action. She looked at her desk again, reading over the list of benefits again. "Decreased death toll, enhances motor skills, speed up metabolism, advanced brain waves activity which in return, intelligence, and extended life span. She read to herself, she had a faint smile curling to the sides of her lips and she spoke in a low monotone voice. "What bull." Shawna slumped into her office chair and continued to stare at the list. The words blurred together as she faded away, her own exhaustion taking over.
Shawna rolled over, hitting the snooze button on Thomas's alarm clock. He always forgot to turn it off when he left. She kicked her feet off the bed, not wanting to get up.





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