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Project Scorpion Day 4-8
6 years ago
The Key of Joy is disobedience Audio-to-text translation of the recording of Project Scorpion. "Scab" by Head Researcher ██. ███████
I suppose the scab analogy can only go so far. Where as I could peel off a scab on my skin with a fingernail and consistent scratching, the fingernail we require would resemble a crowbar more then anything else. I have never seen so many tools being ruined in the process of trying to remove something. We even went ancient in our methods, trying to chisel it out as if we were making a sculpture. No progress to report.
One thing I can tell about today, was that the biggest sleazebag in the world came to visit us this morning. Accompanied by two bodyguards, he came in like he owned the business. Which... he technically does. Walter Newman. Genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist and a-hole first class. Regardless of his behavior, he does have the degrees which is commendable... I guess. After letting everyone get a good look at his presence, we walked over to the specimen and inquired us what we have doing for the past days aside from making a mole that was quote "uglier than his mother-in-law who has been dead for 5 years". I explained to him that the skin was so hard, that even putting a blowtorch at it for 2 hours didn't work. We then told him about the scab theory and then we saw his face light up.
He gave me one hell of an encouraging slap on the shoulder and grandly said why I never asked him for help on that. I think he knows why I and my team didn't ask for it but he had to rub it in. He let go of me and started to walk out with the biggest smirk on his face and a booming laughter. "I will let you borrow my laser nitwit! It will make short work of your scab issue!" And the door closed behind him.
He at least kept his promise. After lunch time it was ready at out laboratory for us to use. We figured we would let our hobbyist set it up. The guide that came with the device was very clear that enough distance needed to be taken and everyone was very happy to take that advice to heart given the stench it was likely to produce. We programmed the laser to follow the outline of the scab while cutting and we would manually stop it once it would come loose. We hope it doesn't take too long.
Well that took it sweet time. But we finally have it! After extensive manual labor, given that the laser turned out to suffer from performance issues every 3 hours, we have finally have it. The scab hit the ground and it sounded like glass hit the floor. It did not break though. I picked it up and was weighing next to nothing. As if I was completely hollow on the inside. But we had it! It felt so good! 7 days in and all our efforts would be rewarded soon enough. I sent a quick email to Newman to let him know that we were thankful for his laser and that despite it failing on us more times then we would have liked, we accomplished our goal.
I instructed one of the assistants to put this under a microscope and check the entire surface of the scab, particularly the black spots and the underside of it. Well, she did everything she could but the surface was a bust. The black spots and everyone else did not resemble blood. Just discoloration of the skin following the heat of the blowtorch. We must now try to cut it open... at that point I already regretted sending that email. Now he was likely to be angry.
Then again, it was at the end of the day so I do not think I will receive his wrath today. Tomorrow however, I'm not so sure.
The day started off really nice actually. I opened my inbox to a surprisingly upbeat email from Newman, saying that he regrets saddling us up with insufficient equipment. He said he would drop by today to replace the failing laser with a better one. Until then, we were instructed to theorize what was inside the scab and perhaps look over the surface one more time. Whilst the same assistant as yesterday took it under the microscope, I collected the team and began a brainstorming session near my workstation.
That is when... something unfortunate happened. For clarification, my workstation is only a few steps removed from the specimen. If I look left of my screen, I can see it lying there sedated. Meaning that some of my coworkers were even closer to it. The trouble began when a young bright spot said that it could be possible that, given the black spots, she might bleed black instead of red. It would also save us a lot of time and effort. You could hear the energy and willingness to prove himself in his voice.
Given her mutations, it might not seem like such a farfetched idea that her blood might be a different color compared to ours, but suggesting it is black is absurd. The theory was thrown to the wind.
Then it happened. As if he imagined himself being in a medical drama where everyone was sure his theory was incorrect, he would go against protocol, do what he needed to do and prove to everyone that he was right. He stood up, ran to towards the specimen, grabbed a scalpel and before anyone could stop him, he cut deep into the non-mutated right arm of the specimen. And miraculously, he was dead wrong. Blood came pouring out and it was red. Two guards intervened and pulled him away beforethe guy had let go of the scalpel, cutting the wound open even more. Quickly it was swatted out of his hands and bright spot slowly began to realize his fantasy wasn't coming true. He was cuffed to a chair and separated from the rest who tended to the wound.
The door opened and Newman was standing in it. One of the guards had informed the front desk of the incident and it seems Newman knew it as well. His expression... if a thunderstorm had a face. Dead silence followed as all we could hear were his footsteps as he approached the culprit. He stopped to look at the specimen, the incision very clearly visible. What was a thunderstorm when he came in, became a full-on hurricane. Once he got to the bright spot, he began verbally abusing him in short, loud bursts. You could hear his faint voice apologizing but Newman was not having any of that. He got to a point where he could no longer control his temper, that he slapped him. The sharp sound echoed through the room and left a red mark on the young man's face. That was seemingly all. "Never show your face here again." was the last thing we heard from him as he stormed out of the room.
After a socially awkward lunch, we came back and found that a new laser had been delivered and the young bright spot's desk had been cleaned with no trace of him at all. As if he never existed. I must say, I feel sympathy for the guy. He reminds me of my younger self. So eager to prove his worth while he should be more humbled and learn from more experienced individuals. These same individuals, must now work with one team member down. We resumed our proceedings as usual and we put the scab under the laser. It is a matter of time before we cut through it.
All this calamity over a scab. However, happiness is in the small things is the saying and I personally cannot wait until the laser has done it's job.
Day 4:I suppose the scab analogy can only go so far. Where as I could peel off a scab on my skin with a fingernail and consistent scratching, the fingernail we require would resemble a crowbar more then anything else. I have never seen so many tools being ruined in the process of trying to remove something. We even went ancient in our methods, trying to chisel it out as if we were making a sculpture. No progress to report.
One thing I can tell about today, was that the biggest sleazebag in the world came to visit us this morning. Accompanied by two bodyguards, he came in like he owned the business. Which... he technically does. Walter Newman. Genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist and a-hole first class. Regardless of his behavior, he does have the degrees which is commendable... I guess. After letting everyone get a good look at his presence, we walked over to the specimen and inquired us what we have doing for the past days aside from making a mole that was quote "uglier than his mother-in-law who has been dead for 5 years". I explained to him that the skin was so hard, that even putting a blowtorch at it for 2 hours didn't work. We then told him about the scab theory and then we saw his face light up.
He gave me one hell of an encouraging slap on the shoulder and grandly said why I never asked him for help on that. I think he knows why I and my team didn't ask for it but he had to rub it in. He let go of me and started to walk out with the biggest smirk on his face and a booming laughter. "I will let you borrow my laser nitwit! It will make short work of your scab issue!" And the door closed behind him.
He at least kept his promise. After lunch time it was ready at out laboratory for us to use. We figured we would let our hobbyist set it up. The guide that came with the device was very clear that enough distance needed to be taken and everyone was very happy to take that advice to heart given the stench it was likely to produce. We programmed the laser to follow the outline of the scab while cutting and we would manually stop it once it would come loose. We hope it doesn't take too long.
Day 7Well that took it sweet time. But we finally have it! After extensive manual labor, given that the laser turned out to suffer from performance issues every 3 hours, we have finally have it. The scab hit the ground and it sounded like glass hit the floor. It did not break though. I picked it up and was weighing next to nothing. As if I was completely hollow on the inside. But we had it! It felt so good! 7 days in and all our efforts would be rewarded soon enough. I sent a quick email to Newman to let him know that we were thankful for his laser and that despite it failing on us more times then we would have liked, we accomplished our goal.
I instructed one of the assistants to put this under a microscope and check the entire surface of the scab, particularly the black spots and the underside of it. Well, she did everything she could but the surface was a bust. The black spots and everyone else did not resemble blood. Just discoloration of the skin following the heat of the blowtorch. We must now try to cut it open... at that point I already regretted sending that email. Now he was likely to be angry.
Then again, it was at the end of the day so I do not think I will receive his wrath today. Tomorrow however, I'm not so sure.
Day 8The day started off really nice actually. I opened my inbox to a surprisingly upbeat email from Newman, saying that he regrets saddling us up with insufficient equipment. He said he would drop by today to replace the failing laser with a better one. Until then, we were instructed to theorize what was inside the scab and perhaps look over the surface one more time. Whilst the same assistant as yesterday took it under the microscope, I collected the team and began a brainstorming session near my workstation.
That is when... something unfortunate happened. For clarification, my workstation is only a few steps removed from the specimen. If I look left of my screen, I can see it lying there sedated. Meaning that some of my coworkers were even closer to it. The trouble began when a young bright spot said that it could be possible that, given the black spots, she might bleed black instead of red. It would also save us a lot of time and effort. You could hear the energy and willingness to prove himself in his voice.
Given her mutations, it might not seem like such a farfetched idea that her blood might be a different color compared to ours, but suggesting it is black is absurd. The theory was thrown to the wind.
Then it happened. As if he imagined himself being in a medical drama where everyone was sure his theory was incorrect, he would go against protocol, do what he needed to do and prove to everyone that he was right. He stood up, ran to towards the specimen, grabbed a scalpel and before anyone could stop him, he cut deep into the non-mutated right arm of the specimen. And miraculously, he was dead wrong. Blood came pouring out and it was red. Two guards intervened and pulled him away beforethe guy had let go of the scalpel, cutting the wound open even more. Quickly it was swatted out of his hands and bright spot slowly began to realize his fantasy wasn't coming true. He was cuffed to a chair and separated from the rest who tended to the wound.
The door opened and Newman was standing in it. One of the guards had informed the front desk of the incident and it seems Newman knew it as well. His expression... if a thunderstorm had a face. Dead silence followed as all we could hear were his footsteps as he approached the culprit. He stopped to look at the specimen, the incision very clearly visible. What was a thunderstorm when he came in, became a full-on hurricane. Once he got to the bright spot, he began verbally abusing him in short, loud bursts. You could hear his faint voice apologizing but Newman was not having any of that. He got to a point where he could no longer control his temper, that he slapped him. The sharp sound echoed through the room and left a red mark on the young man's face. That was seemingly all. "Never show your face here again." was the last thing we heard from him as he stormed out of the room.
After a socially awkward lunch, we came back and found that a new laser had been delivered and the young bright spot's desk had been cleaned with no trace of him at all. As if he never existed. I must say, I feel sympathy for the guy. He reminds me of my younger self. So eager to prove his worth while he should be more humbled and learn from more experienced individuals. These same individuals, must now work with one team member down. We resumed our proceedings as usual and we put the scab under the laser. It is a matter of time before we cut through it.
All this calamity over a scab. However, happiness is in the small things is the saying and I personally cannot wait until the laser has done it's job.
