The Uptake: The 704, 3|2|3|W

[kether]

The Uptake, The 704. Book 1, Chapter Five. Go to first. Go to previous. Go to next.

Super WIP, but I like how the first part’s been going. I'll update the timestamp when I add the next part(s).

(Future) TW: human experimentation, hard emetophobia, gore, body horror, psychological and physical abuse



O’Donnell leaned against the far wall and watched Galen satisfyingly play with the boxes’ worth of paper clips they’d found for him. Such was the standard daily allotment, the past few days: A cleaner of some kind, a can of paint, and some paper clips. Galen had already that day dispatched the jug of window cleaner and the paint, and sat quite literally playing with his food by inventing shapes to eat. At first, the clips had befuddled and disappointed him, but the fidgeting appeal of the small lengths of brightly colored coated wire appealed greatly to his creativity.

“All, right, Galen. Since it’s your first day out of the basement, we’re going to have to take some precautionary measures.”

“—Firf day wut?” He swallowed the odd star-like thing he’d made and looked up, having half-forgotten he was being watched. “Y’takin’ me outside the room? What for?”

“Some of the diagnostic equipment we need can’t fit in here. The imaging machines we’re renting arrived today. We’ll be doing x-rays.” O’Donnell pulled a folded up white garment from his lab coat pocket and handed it over to Galen. “I’m sure there’s a great many things in this factory that will ignite your compulsions, so we need to restrain you until we get to where Lyst is calibrating the equipment. I’m not going to sugar-coat it: this is a straitjacket. ...We’ve researched restraint options, and this is the most comfortable option we could come up with that can be metal-free, and also fall within our budget limitations.”

Galen took it from him where he sat, and unfolded it to let the sleeves hang down along the ground. He fingered the fabric and couldn’t place the thick softness of it. One sniff of it frustrated him, and he smelled deeper of it a second and third time before staring at O’Donnell, wild-eyed.

“This ain’t poly. Slag is this.”

“It’s cotton. Is it okay?” O’Donnell stood firm, hoping not to meet resistance, when the two scientists had done their best to accommodate.

“Cotton.” Galen lingered on the softness at length before he set it in his lap and poured the last of his box of paper clips into his mouth. Then he leaped up and eagerly shimmied up into the garment. Once his head was poked out, he tried to fix his hair, but the exaggerated sleeves prevented him from doing so easily. With him so readily compliant, O’Donnell moved to help Galen rake his hair back to how he usually wore it, and stood there, waiting for Galen’s approval. “This thing’s comfy. Twentieth Century dregs had it plush. ...I think I can still grab stuff, though.”

“That’s what these parts are for.” O’Donnell picked up the straps which dangled off the jacket’s cuffs, and held them out for Galen to see. “Have you seen a straitjacket before?”

Galen shook his head no, so O’Donnell moved to application, narrating as he went.

“Put your arms across your chest, except loop them through the strap in the front there. And now the strap with the loop... goes between your legs and gets tied to the strap in the back... And then the sleeve straps get tied together in the back as well. Let me know if the knots are uncomfortable. Tying flat straps isn’t really in my skill set, and I’m certain this kind of thing goes more smoothly with buckles to facilitate it, I’m afraid.”

Galen wiggled a bit, and the compactness of it calmed him. Plenty of room to shift his arm placement, but not nearly enough room to get out of the thing. He gave the chemist a strange smile.

“This was a good idea.”

“Everything feel secure?” Galen nodded. “All right then, let’s be on our way.”

O’Donnell used the central strap in the back as a guiding handle. Stepping up to the door yielded the same magnetic buzz-clicks Galen had noticed several times before. Upon stepping out into the main floor, the basement dazzled Galen’s senses dumb. Clear pipelines dipped in and out of the ceiling leading to and from dozens of vats both seen and unseen at this floor of the facility. Galen couldn’t even begin to fathom what technicolor variety of substances flowed through the building’s veins, unable to smell them, let alone recognize them. O’Donnell had to continue nudging him the entire way along, to get to the other end of the large building. Especially hesitant to moving along, the stalker stared at one pale, translucent orange line in particular, haunted by the concept that there must be a heart to the building.

“What... is this place?” Galen swallowed absent drool.

“I suppose it does no harm to tell you you’re in the care of Fulton Catalytics. We’re a subsidiary of BF Meehl that deals in pharmaceutical precursors and industrial catalysts. We’re borrowing equipment from a sister subsidiary to help with your... unique case.”

“An’ that...” He swallowed again, surrounded by mechanical pumping and whirring. “...That orange stuff there?”

“That... if memory serves me, is a Wolfrin adjuvant. It’s either that one or the red one three rows next to it. Can’t remember what preparation of it we’re contracted for this month.” When Galen didn’t reply, O’Donnell elaborated, “In the Wolframizing process, the fluoridated urethane catalyst has to spread out in a precise parts per mixture to guarantee it interferes with the crystal structure of the metal in the desired way, to stimulate the metals in the alloy to form covalent bonds. An adjuvant maximizes the urethane’s ability to spread through the metal slag.”

“...I... I see lotsa different colors in these veins. ...Any stuff you make’s yelluh?”

“—Not currently,” O’Donnell finally replied, hesitant. “Mind I told you that you can’t eat any of the things out here on the factory floor. They’re part of contracted orders for clients. If you want any of these chemicals for a meal, I’m sure it can be arranged, but—”

“I said somethin’ wrong.” Galen sniffed apologetically, reacting to O’Donnell’s stiffened posture and rambling tone. “Not everything I can eat is food. I’m. I’m tryin’. S’hard.”

“No, no. It’s quite all right, Galen. Let’s keep going. It’s not far from here, to where Lyst is waiting for us.” The chemist sighed. “You’re still hung up on the fact your blood is bright orange, aren’t you?”

“You’d be hung up on it, too, if it was you.”

“The blood work should come back by Friday. It’s not too long now before we have some answers.”

A collection of large eggshell-colored equipment tucked itself into the far corner, making expert use of the industrial serial power line accessible from the floor ports. Lyst flitted from device to device every few minutes, mumbling breathlessly to himself.

“Hey Doc.”

“Hello, Galenula!” Lyst looked up from his reader and spun around in the caster-wheeled office chair in which he sat backwards, to shoot him a smile. “I trust you enjoyed your lunch.”

“The paper clips was a good idea.”

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