Ch163 – Predictive Modelling (iii)

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“…No way?” The friend in the neighbouring seat was alarmed.
“Y-You’re joking, right? Aren’t you?”

A normal person’s subconscious reaction would be as such, simply believing that Mervyn White had to be joking.
After all, who suddenly would receive a death threat for no rhyme or reason? 

Mervyn White slowly finished his water and fetched a new glass, only smiling after then.
“Gee, young’un, why are you so gullible? You actually believed that?”

“Ohhhh—” That guy thumped his chest, barking back, “That’s what I was saying, how could it be! But your complexion looked quite ugly so I thought… are you really alright?”

 

 

Still a bit unable to set his heart at ease, this kind friend hesitantly asked again, “If you’ve really run into trouble, don’t hold it in, just pick a convenient time to talk about it.
We’ve had the fate of sitting in the same row, we’re basically brothers in troubled times now.
After the scare from you just now, I suddenly don’t think that being fired is much of a big deal.
Fuck it.”

“Thanks,” Mervyn White said, “I was joking.
I only received some…photos of the past.” 

With that, he flipped the screen around, waving it before that friend.

 

And indeed, it was a set of photos displayed on the screen.

Mervyn White didn’t swipe down, so the other could only make out the photo on top.

It was quite a lively photo.
Three chubby puppies blinked their wide puppy-dog eyes, heads huddled together.
This clean and soft litter was next to French windows, where a Persian cat basked in the sun.

 

“What’s this?” That friend asked, “Are those your pets?”

Mervyn White retrieved the screen, looking at it for a while with his head lowered.
He nodded.
“Yeah, but they’re gone now.”

“Ah…”

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The other guy had an apologetic expression on his face, looking as though he wanted to offer comfort but didn’t know where to start.
As such, he simply patted Mervyn White on the shoulder, “Did they die from sickness, or?” 

This dude was rather straightforward in speech, yet not in an annoying way.

Mervyn White, “No, not from sickness.
I took care of them for a good many years but ended up giving them away.”

The other heaved a sigh of relief, then asked curiously, “They look quite cute; why did you give them away?”

Mervyn White was silent for a while.
He briefly explained, “Because of some stuff at work, my son…” 

He got jammed up here, and then pushed on, “My son even went on a two-day hunger strike over this back then.”

“You have a son as well?” The other asked unconsciously.

We’re sorry for MTLers or people who like using reading mode, but our translations keep getting stolen by aggregators so we’re going to bring back the copy protection.
If you need to MTL please retype the gibberish parts.

Zfgnsc Qtlaf, “Tfjt, yea tf’r ubcf cbk abb.”

“…” 

Ktlr mtjq ofia atja fnfgs defralbc tf jrxfv abvjs kjr megrfv.

“Yt, vbc’a bnfgatlcx la,” Zfgnsc Qtlaf jvvfv, “tf rlwqis ugfk eq jcv vbfrc’a mbwf tbwf jcswbgf, atja’r jii.”

 

“…”

Valii ja j ibrr jr ab tbk ab boofg mbwobga, atja ues mbeiv bcis qja tlr rtbeivfg jujlc.
“Lf ugfk eq, la’r cbgwji.
Lf tjr tlr bkc lvfjr.
Ktja kff ygja bo wlcf lr bcis atlgaffc, yea tf’r jigfjvs qlutfjvfvis gjwyilcu jybea atlr jcv atja fnfgs vjs cbk.” 

Mervyn White snorted in laughter.

With a bit of idle chatter, the other man forgot about the ‘malicious email’ and the ugly expression on Mervyn White’s face, only remembering that he had met a passenger he could click quite well with.

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It wasn’t long before the space shuttle pulled to a stop at De Carma’s port link.

The passengers stranded in outer space for many a day streamed out of the exit. 

Instead of following the crowd to the city transit, Mervyn White took a seat in a cafe at the port.

He found a corner seat by the window.
Against the glaring midday sun, he opened that email again.

Beneath that photo of cat and dogs, there were still a few more, depicting animals of all kinds.
But unlike the cat and dogs, these were raised in purpose-built laboratory spaces.

Before Mervyn White quit his job more than twenty years ago, he used to move between these purpose-built labs every day. 

When it came to drug research, it was normal to keep some for scientific testing, and people like him had long been inured to it.

But for those few years, the clinical research institute he was working at suddenly became ‘restless’, driving research forward at a feverish pace.
What was originally slow-going was forcibly sped up to the point where it branched out from one to multiple research lines.

As though there was someone holding a whip behind the entire research team’s asses.

Since then, Mervyn White grew increasingly confused, sometimes even to the point that he was unable to figure out what the entire team was actually researching.
Due to the multiple concurrent lines, each researcher was only involved in a part of it, but no one could see the full picture. 

Also as a result of the many concurrent lines, the laboratory’s activity level stepped up manifold.

In the past, they would only pick specially-bred lab animals to test the results during critical phases in development.
But those two years were different.
The animals in purpose-built labs were constantly in an ‘abnormal state’.

So during that period, he spent virtually every day shuttling between laboratories full of ‘madmen’.

Often an animal that had been lying prone one moment would suddenly lunge at the glass enclosure, slamming against the walls with its head or body.
If they hit it hard enough, blood would abruptly gush from their mouths and noses all over the place, then they’d cease to breathe, slowly becoming cold and rigid. 

Once or twice a day or two was tolerable, but if it happened every hour of the day without respite, the sight became a long and deeply etched mental torment.

Mervyn White could perceive that he was changing.
His temper worsened; he became despondent and jumpy, a polar opposite from who he used to be.

 

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Later, even at home, hallucinations would occasionally haunt him, as if the screeching and barking was still ringing in his ears, never letting up.

As time wore on, he started to reject all animals, even avoiding the pets at home. 

Not because he hated them, but out of worry that one day he’d mistakenly harm them.

It had been more than two decades since, and his former technical expertise was almost completely wiped clean from his mind.
But seeing these photos still called forth the smell unique of laboratories…

He had a frivolous heart that was unconcerned about a multitude of things.

The sender of the email really knew how to strike where it hurt. 

First draw him back to the past of twenty years ago, then invade through the weakness exposed.

Following these photos were screenshots of documents, focusing on the sign-offs.
The handwriting on these were all too familiar to Mervyn White.

Because they were his own signature.

As the contents of these emails weren’t included in the screenshot, he was unable to immediately recall what documents he had signed. 

But the email body ‘euphemistically’ suggested that if Mervyn White insisted on dredging up unnecessary matters, there would only be two outcomes that awaited him…

An unseemly funeral.

Or sharing a seat in the defendant’s booth.

It’s rather ludicrous to put yourself behind bars, don’t you think? I trust that Mr Mervyn White is wise enough not to make such a dim-witted choice. 

Mervyn White’s gaze swept across the last line of the email.
Then, he crossed his arms and leaned back into his seat.

—

The high-end analyser in Lin Yuan’s research lab at Spring Ivy Hospital quietly worked overnight.

Contrary to Yan Suizhi and Gu Yan’s advice, Lin Yuan didn’t go back to rest, but napped fitfully on a chair in the lab. 

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Suddenly, just after four in the morning, the analyser beeped twice.

The sound wasn’t loud, but for doctors with irregular sleep patterns, it was very striking.

 

The person in the chair remained deadened for two seconds, but rolled over and got up like a zombified corpse.

Lin Yuan grabbed at his rumpled bird’s nest hair, pressing his face up against the analyser, squinting at its display. 

The segment spliced from Yan Suizhi’s genes was transformed by the analyser into a line, which were the results of a simulative model that projected what this gene segment could become with more research.

Among these, one could potentially be the developmental pathway that the Manson brothers’ research had taken.

Lin Yuan checked the specific data at each stage, then had the analyser build a model of the gene segment based on the data, thereafter running a similarity match through the gene library of all Spring Ivy Hospital patients in passing.

Five minutes later, a message sprung out on the matching interface. 

Seeing that message, the usually-polite Dr Lin almost burst out in expletives.

Without delay, he pulled up Yan Suizhi’s contact on his smart device.

The call was already sent out before it abruptly occurred to him that it was now four in the morning.
He heard that those two lawyers had made a trip down to the police station after seeing their client, also dropping by a crime scene on De Carma.
They had probably turned in not too long ago.

It would most assuredly not be a pleasant experience to be awoken so soon after going to sleep. 

Lin Yuan soothed his agitation.
He was about to withdraw the comms request and hold out until daylight, but to his surprise, the call was picked up after two short dial tones.

Gu Yan’s voice passed through the line, perfused with a slight rasp from drowsiness.
“Hello, Dr Lin?”

Lin Yuan, “…”

He projected the hologram again and checked it.
The contact name was Yan Suizhi, no mistake there. 

Lin Yuan, “????”