"I'm sorry, sir. He's slipped into a coma." A young, fresh-faced nurse said. "We're doing everything that we can."
At those words, Mattir Kolblavsky, Russian billionaire and business tycoon, did something that no one expected: he fainted, falling bodily on top of the shocked nurse.
"Help!" She called. "He's heavy!"
The doctor and other hospital staff rushed over to help her. "On three." The doctor said. "One, two, three!"
With much huffing and puffing, their combined efforts were enough to heft the gargantuan man and drag him to the couch. When he recovered, he immediately asked to see the hospital head. "Dr. Drake!" He thundered, pounding his meaty fist into his palm. "Who can cure my son?!"
The poor doctor cowered under the huge man, looking like a small shrimp in comparison. "If a-anyone can, s-s-sir," he stuttered anxiously, staring up at the billionaire. "it's Dr. Asmodeus, sir."
"Well, where is he?" Kolblavsky roared.
"Not here, sir. Last I heard he was in Australia, sir."
"He will be here by morning! Do you understand, Dr. Drake?"
"The cost, sir.."
"No matter the price!"
"Very well, sir. At once, sir."
"By morning, or you will pay for your impertinence!"
"Yes, sir."
Very much relieved that their short interview was over, Dr. Drake hurried away, his head spinning with the technical difficulties of flying Dr. Asmodeus halfway around the world in a mere twelve hours.
When Dr. Asmodeus arrived, he was hurried into the room where a young man lay, his eyes closed, IVs in both arms, his blond hair splayed out on the white pillow.
"He collapsed last week, during a tennis match." Dr. Drake explained. He shivered in disgust. There was something about Dr. Asmodeus that just wasn't right, but he couldn't put his finger on it. "His tennis partner called an ambulance, which brought him here. At first we thought he had heatstroke, but he just kept getting worse and worse. We put him on life support two days ago, and he lapsed into a coma yesterday. If you want any particulars, call the nurse."
A few hours later, Dr. Asmodeus was called into Kolblavsky's office. "Will you be able to cure my son?" The billionaire asked.
"Maybe. This sort of case is extremely rare, and some experiments may be necessary."
"What do you need?"
"Money, for one."
"You have carte blanche."
"Absolute?"
"I tell you, Asmodeus, I would give my fortune and more, if I had it, if it would cure my boy."
"Very well."
YOU ARE READING
Experiment #146
Science FictionWhen Mattir Kolblavsky's doted-upon son becomes ill and falls into a coma, the Russian billionaire gives carte blanche to the corrupt Dr. Asmodeus to do whatever it takes to cure his son. Four years later, world-class sprinter and aspiring Olympian...
