-DOOMED BY THE MIND-
EVA CVETKOVA'S POV
Eight years ago...
I drop my notebook and pen the moment the alarming beeps flood my surgical room. The subject is entering a critical condition!
Rushing my feet in the speed of light toward the freezing incubator; with glasses stubbornly slipping down my nose, barely stayed in place as I rushed.
I slammed my wrist against the security screen, the watch on it beeping in acknowledgment before the door slid open with a hiss; and, I caught the eighteen-year-old Adam as he tumbled into my arms, naked as he was born.
His skin a pale, frosted hue, and his hair encased in a brittle layer of ice—and only eighty percent identical to Radoslav Markov...
"Adam, c'mon! Just twenty more percent to go! You better live to pull it through!" I slap his face a few times, trying to wake him up, but he's unconscious as fuck.
I get him to the surgical bed, which immediately sends his real-time sensory data directly to my computer system that's in a hand reach to my right.
The screen flickered to life, displaying a torrent of vital signals and biometric readings, but as I watched the data stream across the screen, an alarming irregularity in his pulse caught my eye. It plummeted swiftly, dropping to dangerously low levels before his body went still.
In an instant, a surge of white foam erupted from his mouth; and he collapsed off the surgical bed, hitting the floor with a jarring thud. His body convulsed violently, shaking uncontrollably as the monitor's frantic beeps underscored the severity of the crisis.
The body temperature had fallen under 24°C. 13 decimals under the norm towards an extreme hypothermia. Heating him up can do more damage and my last option was to focus on stimulating his heart to regain its natural rhythm and function.
I swiftly retrieved the defibrillator. I placed the first pad on the upper side of his right collarbone, positioning it firmly against his skin. The second pad I positioned below his left armpit, ensuring a proper contact point for the electric charge.
Taking a deep breath, I activated the defibrillator, channeling a surge of electricity through his body in a final, desperate attempt to jolt his heart back into a stable rhythm.
The crackle of the discharge was sharp and intense, the last hope for reviving his cardiac function.
Shooting once. Twice—
"Fuck!" I screamed through my lungs, giving zero fucks for my vocal cords.
Another death lays in my hands... What the fuck do I keep doing so fucking wrong?
This was the fifty-seventh failure! The last one before the new academic year...I need to be ready for tomorrow before Lion declares me as the fifty-eighth failure and join this guy in hell. And I had no time to waste if I wanted to survive this!
Leaving the subject's lifeless body to decompose on the bed, I plunged into my notes, frantically revisiting each of the fifty-seven mistakes I'd made. The room became a whirlwind of papers and discarded ideas as I shifted through every alteration and experiment, searching for the breakthrough.
What was I fucking missing?
The coding was fine. The cells had successfully integrated the new DNA and were reproducing it as intended. The subject's body was beginning to morph, adopting the physical characteristics of Radoslav.
YOU ARE READING
Changes
غموض / إثارةIn a world where loyalty is a currency, betrayal as frequent as a blink of an eye. Weapon in trust lays, laced amongst the thorns of the rose, with your safety that could never be promised in its must. Then who could you rely on? Could you even trus...
