Ayda: The Explosive Girl

Giving Support

Dr. Vahlen sat alone in his office, feet propped up on his cluttered mahogany desk. He didn't wear his signature lab coat, but did sport a gaudy green turtle neck sweater. Behind his wheeled computer chair was a beautiful painting of a 19th century battle complete with horses, muskets, sabers, and cannons. Flanking this art piece on either side were slim bookshelves which extend all the way from floor to ceiling. In front of the desk was an ovular red and gold rug as well as a chair for guests to sit in. It was far and away the swankiest room in the entire facility, which meant it was still kind of a dump, especially compared to what he was used to.

Idly, he swirled a glass of red wine in his left hand. He took a sip and grimaced upon lowering the drink. If he ever found a halfway decent bottle in this godforsaken country, it would be too late. Still, some wine was better than none at all. He took another unsatisfying sip.

Vahlen paused and gave a sigh. He put the glass down on an out of the way corner of his desk. Transitioning into a more natural sitting position he rifled through one of the drawers on his right side, loudly shifting around its contents. After a few seconds he extracted his prize, a small digital recorder. Vahlen swung his legs around to the other side of his chair and leaned back. He held down a button on the side of the device and began to talk into it.

"Dr. Vahlen, audio log for the week of July 17, 2005. Group A still shows very little in the way of progress. All seven of them have stagnated. This is... disappointing, to say the least. As both the first and largest group, I had high hopes for them. But, many improvements have been made to the technology since then, so I guess it isn't really their fault. I'm looking into the possibility of replacing their implants with a newer model. We still can't be sure what kind of side effects this would have. It could cause severe brain damage, or kill them outright. Either one would be an acceptable result, I just want to know which to prepare for.

"My decision to stop bringing in new subjects after the acquisition of Group F is still a hot button topic more than five months later. Almost all of my scientists disagree, but they don't understand my reasoning. Until we perfect the implants, bringing in more children is pointless. We're just wasting time and resources. Our sample size as it is now is perfectly acceptable. It's more efficient to just study the patients we have now, and learn from our past mistakes. I don't know how long the soldiers can keep my dissenters at bay. I may need to enact my authority before long.

"While it is true the children get more powerful with each new generation of implants, there was always the possibility of exceptions, and boy is Group D an exception. I saw something in Subject Twelve when she came to us two years ago. She continues to shatter expectations. Countless brain scans haven't revealed any chemical or electrical bias toward use of the implant. For all intents and purposes, she's just a normal eight-year-old girl. Purple explosions notwithstanding, of course. I can't figure out exactly what it is which makes her so much stronger than all the others, but I'm determined to find out."

Vahlen paused, perplexed. "I was going somewhere with that, somewhere specific, but I don't remember where. It probably wasn't important. This is Dr. Vahlen, terminating the audio log for the week of July 17, 2005."

The Doctor opened a drawer on his desk, a different one than before, and tossed the recorder in. Talking into that blasted contraption was by far his least favorite part of the job. He understood the importance of keeping consistent and thorough logs, and a recorder was definitely the best way to do so, but that didn't mean he had to like it.

No sooner had he sealed the accursed thing to it's fate, did a knock come at his door. He pinched the bridge of his nose. First an audio log and now unexpected company? This day just kept getting better! He sat with neutral posture to make himself presentable before answering the summons.