Page 35 of Crocodile Tears
“I have complete faith in your abilities, Dr.Lawson.Failure simply isn’t an acceptable outcome for any of us.”
The door closes with a heavy click, leaving me alone with the humidity and the growing realization that my situation is significantly more dangerous than I initially assessed.
The crack in my left wrist restraint becomes my immediate focus.Twenty minutes of careful experimentation produces small progress and several painful electrical feedbacks.The system detects attempted transformations at the cellular level, but it seems to have difficulty with minor bone density changes that happen naturally in shifter physiology.
A small piece of the polymer flakes away under careful pressure, exposing what appears to be a wire connection beneath the outer casing.If I can work at this systematically without triggering the full electrical response, I might be able to disable the restraint entirely.
The sound of voices in the hallway interrupts my work.Two people argue in rapid Spanish about something that sounds like supply deliveries and scheduling conflicts.The conversation moves past my door without stopping, but it gives me useful information about the facility’s operations.
I resume working on the restraint, applying pressure in small increments while monitoring for electrical feedback.The key seems to be avoiding any motion that resembles intentional shifting while still generating enough force to exploit the manufacturing defect.
Another flake of polymer comes away, revealing more of the internal mechanism.The restraint system is sophisticated but not perfectly engineered.I find clear stress points where repeated pressure could cause mechanical failure.
Approaching footsteps interrupt my progress yet again.Multiple people this time—two guards in tactical gear with heavy bootsteps followed by lighter, civilian footsteps.Watching glimpses through the small window on the door, I infer the guards are taking up spots outside my room, and a woman glances in at me through the glass before opening the door a second later.
“Dr.Lawson, I’m Dr.Alvarez.”The woman in a lab coat, who looks like she’d rather be anywhere else, approaches with obvious nervousness while the guards maintain professional distance.“Dr.Vega has asked me to escort you to your new laboratory space.If you cooperate, the guards won’t need to use additional restraint measures.”
I gulp.That sounds ominous.“What kind of additional restraint measures?”
“The kind that would make working in a laboratory significantly more difficult.”She gestures toward the door.“Shall we proceed?”
I stand slowly, testing how the ankle restraints affect my balance.Walking is possible but awkward, and any sudden movements would probably result in immediate intervention from the guards.I take some hesitant steps and try to put my captors at ease…for now.“Dr.Alvarez, how long have you been working here?”
She glances nervously at the guards before responding.“Several months.Dr.Vega recruited me from a research position in Mexico City.”
“And you’re comfortable with the ethical implications of this work?”
“I’m comfortable with advancing medical science in ways that traditional institutions would never approve.”Her tone suggests she’s repeating rehearsed justifications rather than expressing personal conviction.“The potential benefits far outweigh any concerns about methodology.”
I snort softly.“What about the potential risks?Human genetic modification isn’t exactly a field with a sterling safety record.”
She still looks frightened as she repeats with no conviction, “All research involves acceptable levels of risk in pursuit of breakthrough discoveries.”
The guards exchange glances that imply they’ve heard this conversation before and aren’t particularly interested in philosophical debates about research ethics.
The facility turns out to be larger and more sophisticated than expected.We move through corridors that suggest a purpose-built research complex, with multiple laboratory spaces, office areas, and what appears to be living quarters for extended stays.
I catalog everything as we walk, including door locations, security cameras, emergency lighting, fire extinguishers, and electrical panels.The guards carry sidearms and communication equipment, but their posture suggests routine escort duty rather than high-alert security protocols.
“How many researchers work here?”I ask while noting the placement of what appears to be a communications array on the ceiling.
“Dr.Vega prefers not to discuss operational details with new arrivals.”Dr.Alvarez quickens her pace slightly.“Your focus should be on the scientific opportunities rather than administrative concerns.”
I roll my eyes before I can stop myself.“Scientific opportunities like forced human experimentation?”
“Scientific opportunities like breakthrough research that could save thousands of lives.”She stops at a set of double doors secured with electronic locks.“This is your laboratory space.”
The assigned laboratory is actually impressive.It has modern equipment, a comprehensive chemical inventory, and computing resources that rival anything at the university.Someone invested significant money in creating a workspace that could genuinely support advanced genetic research.
“Your research materials have been uploaded to the computer system.”Dr.Alvarez maintains careful distance while explaining the setup.“All equipment has been calibrated to university standards, and additional supplies can be requested through the requisition system.”
“How long do I have to complete the adaptation research?”
“Dr.Vega expects preliminary results within two weeks with full implementation protocols within six weeks.”
I let out a shocked gasp.“That’s not enough time for safe testing of genetic modifications in human subjects.”
Her expression betrays no emotion as she stares at me.“Dr.Vega is confident that a scientist of your caliber can work efficiently when properly motivated.”
