At first, it was dark and quiet. However, this did not last long. Soon the sounds rushed in: conversations, although whoever was speaking, they spoke quietly and it was very difficult to make out the idea; rhythmic hum, clicking, and the rustling of the equipment. Then the world around him became brighter. Not too much, but the understanding came that the light was rather on. He couldn't get up, or even just open his eyes and take a look around to understand what was happening; the eyelids were too heavy, the same as the whole body that lay motionless, no matter how hard he tried.
"The pulse is growing," said someone quietly very close.
"Finally," oh, and this voice is more familiar, belonged to the project manager, commander-in-chief...
Chris tried to remember the name of the speaker, but only something illogical, prickly, and green came to mind. While he was remembering, a beam of light blinded his left eye, extinguished, and then the same thing happened to his right eye. Chris hissed.
"Pupils react normally. Chris, do you hear me?" The voice rang out again and, as if a light attack by a pen-torch had become a catalyst, Chris clearly remembered who he belonged to, – Erzketau, the green lizard.
I hear you, Chris thought to himself, but had no strength to answer.
"If yes, say 'mmm'."
Piece of cake. Chris took a deep breath and hummed, or intended to, but in fact, the ligaments gave out some kind of indistinct sound, vaguely reminiscent of the screech of rusty iron pieces.
"Well done," a hand dropped on his shoulder, "now – open your eyes."
Chris honestly tried to lift his eyelids, but nothing came of it, all he could do is screech again in distress. The throat felt terrible, no wonder the sound came out like that. He tried to clear his throat, but that only made it worse.
"Don't cough, don't force it," Erzketau said again.
Chris sighed, trying to abstract away from the growing discomfort in his throat, dry mouth, and lack of eye contact with the world. Is zirka still here? It seems that yes, a soft tapping is heard overhead, most likely working on a tablet. What is he doing there at all?
"The surgery lasted three hours and twenty-two minutes. It's ten minutes to five in the evening. Awakening from anesthesia – within normal time limits. Vital indicators with no deviations. The temperature is elevated by one and a half degrees and this is normal as well. Rest while you can. You're not allowed to drink, it's too soon, and be patient. The throat might feel sore – it's just muscle memory after intubation, it'll pass soon," Erzketau had just answered the half of guy's unspoken questions, without realizing it. "Here comes your doctor to pay you a visit, say hello, you know how."
Chris screeched and tried to open his eyes again.
"Très bon!" exclaimed Madame François and put her hand to his forehead, and then gently stroked his cheek. "Almost blushing. Everything is fine? Oh, I feel like a little girl, like in my grandmother's barn on a farm a hundred years ago! With you all, mooing like my grannie's cowies. Chris, get rest, sleep some more. I'm putting the call button in your hand, when you can move your fingers – push it. You are not alone in the ward, there are a lot of people here, so just squeeze, no need to swear too loud okay?"
Chris sighed and decided that since there was nothing more active to do, then sleeping in was just fine.
The second time he came to, it was a great joy for him to find out that his eyes were already opening. The room was still quiet; the lights were dim. The fingers obeyed; Chris would want to move his body freely but still no progress on this part. Besides, apart from other discomforting stuff, he was thirsty, unimaginably thirsty. Chris squeezed the palm to which the call button was attached and immediately he heard some rustle to the right, somewhere in the corner.
Dr. François bent over him.
"How are you feeling?" She asked quietly, glancing at the monitor to the right of his head.
Chris strained every muscle and tendon in his upper body to give a comprehensible answer:
"Can-aieve-sum-oter?" He whispered.
"Yeah, but only a tiny drop," Madame turned away, then back again, and offered him a straw. "Take two small sips and that's it. The longer you can go without drinking, the less stormy you'll feel. Well, and the longer you will do without a catheter in your... you know where." Madame rounded her eyes meaningfully.
Chris chuckled, took the straw into his mouth, and slowly drew in the liquid. Taking two sips, he nodded in gratitude. A little better, but for how long?
"How're the others?" He asked.
"All came to as if by an alarm; everything is fine. It's three o'clock in the morning, sleep for now. As long as the analgesic effect lasts, you need to take the opportunity and gain strength. Then you'll have a chance to whine 'my tummy itches', 'my butt hurts'."
The doctor walked away from his bed shaking her head, and Chris could only echo this movement, amazed how an adult can be so frivolous.
Waking up a couple of hours later, the first thing Chris did is tried to contract each muscle one by one. Didn't do any well, they all seemed to turn into jelly by now. This made him so worked up and tired that he nearly fell asleep again, but right at this time, his neighbors started waking up.
"Hey, good morning," Chris called.
"Oh, cut dat out," muttered, apparently, Carey. "Damn, are you feeling this crap too, or it's just me?"
"Individual into-o-lerance," Steve yawned widely. "I just feel numb everywhere and...," he fell silent for a moment, "guys, do you feel it too? Down there I mean..."
Chris felt it. He and Carey pursed their lips in response. Yes, that is why they were not allowed to roll over or sit since a dilator was placed in the anus for normal healing of the uterine sphincter and it was rather not shifted from its original position. Raising the cover, the young man tried to preliminary assess the situation. The upper part of his torso was bare, the lower part was enveloped with a brace; cotton trousers on.
Where did those trendy panties that Madame handed us yesterday, go? Thought Chris with irony. Perhaps the idea was not to get subjects ever more nervous at the start, tossing them into the operating room au naturel.
He pulled the blanket up to his chin again and tried to look around. They lay in a closed, spacious ward. Mostly the internal walls of the research buildings were transparent, the same was true of the wards, as far as he recalled; sometimes for safety reasons it is better when the patients are observable, but in their ward, the walls were solid. Although it had a viewing window at the door. Their three beds and medical equipment occupied the right side of the room, the left side was divided into an open area and a closed one, in the open area there was a sofa, a table, and a couple of chairs with backs, shelves, and cabinets, and the bathroom was most likely hidden behind that closed door. The interior was predominantly white, except for the furniture on the left, which was all pale green.
Chris raised his gaze to the ceiling and only managed to think how nice it would be to take off the brace, when a group of assistants entered the room, and the mister commander-in-chief himself, flanking the bunch.
"Good morning, subjects. I am glad to inform you that you all have survived," he began surprisingly cheerfully. The students greeted in response and looked at each other incomprehensibly. "So, the time of your first postoperative examination. The interns of the medical department of our research center will help us with this. I ask you not to hinder them; just lay back on your pillows and let the respected do their job."
There were four interns, two people, and two Zirkaazte. It seemed to Chris, the launch of the second phase of the experiment was the catalyst for the massive talent influx. Obviously, specialists were trained on their home planet and sent to practice and work here. The interns approached each of the guys one at a time, and the fourth was kind of a helping hand, or maybe he was just studying. First, the braces and silicone plasters covering the wounds – the traces of laparoscopic intervention – were removed from the operated patients, examined, sprinkled with an antiseptic, and covered with glue-band again. While junior medical specialists performed these actions, Erzketau walked from one to another, observing but not interfering. This was followed by a less innocuous procedure – they had to check how things were in hard-to-reach places. To the amicable grumbling of all the patients, they were stripped of their pants, their beds lifted almost to the level of the eyes of the beholders who started checking, moving, and lubricating the dilators, or whatever else they did with it, it felt like nothing pleasant. Steve giggled and complained of tickling during the procedure, the other two lads endured all stoically, although both had shared the same desire – to faint again, until the tube inside stops twirling. Finally, the beds returned to their usual level, and the pants of the victims also returned to their place. The leader praised the apprentices and let them go, while he began to scan the three of them internally. He got to Chris last and performed a careful and thorough checkup that took him almost forever while he tilted the scanning screen this way and that, and at the most possible angles, nodding and humphing from time to time. In general, he gave off the impression that all he saw was satisfying for zirka.
"So, Newman-kri, was it as scary as you thought?" He asked rather quietly, returning his glance from the screen to Chris and smiling slightly.
"As soon as I can get up myself and walk home, I'll report my best feelings right away," the young man answered. "Where should I send it though: in a group chat or the PMs?" He added sarcastically.
"Is this an attempt to get my personal communication network id?" Erzketau snickered and before Chris could answer, he said goodbye to everyone and left the room. Chris stared in disbelief at the door that had just shut behind kri. What the hell...? He thought.
Since they were not yet allowed to move too actively, the three of them could only fling their hands in the air and complain loudly about the doctors, ass-tubes, and so on.
"We are definitely destined to mummify here, lying in one position," Carey sighed.
Chris was okay with the chat, but the main topics, unfortunately, were the common inconveniences, which only drew more attention to them. In addition, literally after some half an hour, a new nuisance appeared – the tummies, as Madame Curator tenderly worded, began to itch.
"Told ya," Dr. François chided with a sly squint, rolling in a tray with three glasses. "The seams itch when they heal. Or what did you think? Maybe you secretly hoped to get a month off from work. No, gentlemen, you'll all recover and return to the plantations!"
She set the glasses in the holders on the beds, handed out a long straw to each of them, and wished Bon-appetit. The liquid in the glasses turned out to be something similar to yogurt, but sweet and less thick.
"While you are absorbing these wonderful nutritious cocktails, I'll remind you what's the life after implantation like," the doctor stood up so that all three could see her well, "coz you never know, and anesthesia can affect the human brain in different ways, no matter how hard you try minimizing side effects. The first question on the agenda is your ward stay. If everything goes well, and we see no reason for something to go wrong, then all of you will be discharged in three days," boys nodded in acknowledgment, as they already knew approximately what to expect and when. "The body temperature stays elevated for about another week, from 0.5 to 1 degree – this is normal; if it doesn't return to normal by the fifteenth day – I'll come for you. All your data, blood composition, thermo-, and any other shifts and disturbances – from now on, they are my first-course meal on breakfast. The nanites will drop reports to your band-gears, and from there everything will be broadcast to me and all heads responsible for the project. The second issue is hygiene. You are all familiar with this thing?" Madame took out a cylindrical metallic object in transparent wrapping, about four inches long and no thicker than a pinkie, of her pocket and showed them.
"A hygienic sterilizer," Steve said.
"Right, love, and you all know how to use it?" seeing all three shake their heads, the doctor nodded approvingly and took out two more similar sterilizers, and handed them to the boys. "Now these are your new toilet devices. This is, so to speak, version 2.0, in comparison with the usual model to which we all are accustomed, these bunnies not only disinfect the way but also moisturize. You don't have to look at it as if it bites, Mr. Newman, believe me, there is nothing fatal about it. Over time, the uterus will begin to moisturize itself, but until this happens, it is worth maintaining its external environment in the order, in which there is a genetic need. So, every hour you will need to carry out the procedure for sterilizing the anal canal, or more often if there is a direct need, as we do in the usual way. Every hour during the first two weeks after surgery. Clean it with button number one and lubricate with button number two. The vends with fillers will be installed in all public WCs, as well as in your suits, but if you will require some special one with a peach scent, you can order it anytime online."
Madame broke off, making a theatrical pause, during which the guys looked at each other. Chris never knew if she was joking or not, and Steve and Carey were probably guessing the same thing.
"And the third thing I must warn you about," said Dr. François quietly, emphasizing each word, and looking at each one point-blank. "When you are discharged, the dilator you all hate so much will be removed. The time you are here is enough for the tissue to heal and there is no risk of rupture or seam divergence. Complete healing will take about two months and then you will be free to do whatever you want. Until then, however, you'll want personal permission from me if you come up with an extraordinary idea; and until then you all are strictly prohibited from several activities in order to avoid infection, rejection, and other lethal troubles." All three of them looked attentively at their curator, who spoke with the utmost severity for the first time they've known her. "Prohibited activity number one is powerlifting, as well as any traumatic sport. If you find it difficult to restrain yourself, then just forget the way to the gym and hand over all your pieces of iron for keeping. Your sport for the rehabilitation period is yoga for preggies with Rangira-kaia. Prohibited activity number two is penetrating sex in a passive role, as well as in an active one if your partner is a recently operated implant possessor. If you have an itch between your legs and a semen incontinence disorder, then it is better to admit that right away – I will place you in the department for the study of mental ailments, a VIP room, light sedatives, everything top notch. It'll feel like you're at a resort, and you'll be asking for more afterward so don't be shy. And forbidden activity number three ... My colleagues asked me not to have this conversation, but I, as a woman, know better. Although I have no children of my own, however, you cannot just go and cut out the maternal instinct from the hypothalamus. Therefore, I strictly forbid you, in the pain of death, to shove your fingers up there and inspect the 'thing'. Not a big chance that you'll reach what you'd aim for, but still. Oh, don't give me those innocent eyes. Believe me, you will want to go investigating and to be fair – that's a normal reaction! You'll be discharged, every seam will heal up, and will send you strange feels, get itchy, uncomfortable, or, on the contrary, too comfortable and inviting, will wake curiosity for god sake, but no. Under no circumstances, period. If it hurts, burns, if it will seem to you that it bleeds or other crap oozing out, hedgehogs or little green fellas ... oh, that's a pun, ha-ha. Be that as it may – at the first urge to examine yourself on your own, you should contact me and carry your ass to me as quickly as you can. This isn't a joke, I hope that my colleagues were right, you are adult and reasonable people, but if it were up to me, I'd make you sign a compliance agreement. Anyway, I'll rip out curious fingers and hang them in my office on the wall under the glass. Consider yourselves warned." All the seriousness has gone to dogs; a few times like this and they will start getting used to such a ma'am in charge. "For this basically not only I will be responsible, during the day you'll receive contact details of other specialists on the issues like 'I have something wrong there'. Are we clear, lads?"
They were crystal clear. More than that even. If this conversation had not been conducted by doc François, then perhaps there would be more uncertainties, but not with her promising to make a collage with their fingers.
"Well, lie down you for a little more, sip on your banana bliss or whatever they have mixed for you," she waved in their direction and took something else from the tray. "I am returning your gear and everything that you wished to have in the ward upon awakening. Humor your friends; we will start allowing them in a while."
Sipping breakfast, Chris strapped the band on his wrist. The first things loaded at the launch were the new vital points in the body state app. In addition to the increased temperature, there were many other items with a clear deviation from the norm, but they were highlighted in yellow, that is, within the normal and safe for health and life. The young man decided to study these parameters later, anyway his band AI has already reported to whoever is required, so if something happens – they will come for him. Then he turned on the tablet, accessed the messenger, and quickly let Josh know that he's awake and everything was fine. He also had the urge to do something productive: read class materials, examine the seeds' results, re-read the chemistry of the processes that are about to happen in his body, at least in theory according to everyone's expectations. However, no matter how long he tried to read it, it turned out badly, his eyes, neck, and even hands got tired fast. The clock showed eight in the morning and that was their verdict.
"It can't go on like this," Steve said aloud, "I want to get up and walk around. They have to move us somehow; we can end up with bedsores, and then what!?
"This is some kind of madhouse; I have no idea what to do for another two days!" Carey echoed his friend's dissatisfaction.
"Good morning," a pitched voice said from the door. Female zirka pronounced the letter 'r' slightly aggressively, nevertheless, her voice was pleasant. The three of them looked at the newcomer. "My name is Sintri-kaia, I am part of the group of junior assistants and today I will conduct for you the first lesson in physiotherapy exercises. It's time for you to move your limbs a little, don't you think so?" The room burst in applause as kaia winked and strolled to Chris's bed. "So, let's get to it. Could you please start with moving your toes and then the calf joints, bringing them up and down, and slowly working out all leg joints while lying flat?"
Chris has done what he was asked. Kaia explained everything clearly, saying every now and then, that it's important to do each exercise slowly, alternating feet. When the feet were stretched sufficiently, they slowly began to pull the knees to the torso, one at a time.
"… Seven, eight, okay." She nodded encouragingly, glanced at the dashboard on Chris's bed, and went on, "Newman-kri, you'll go first."
"Go where?" Chris asked, but she ignored him.
"As for the two of you, keep going, you can help yourself with your hands. If you experience unpleasant sensations anywhere or just if you get tired, immediately stop the execution. And you, Chris, roll over onto your stomach and slide down off the bed. No worries; I'll be catching."
Well, yes, since they can't sit down, then how else can one go from a horizontal position to a standing one? Taking a deep breath for courage, he threw off the blanket and slowly, overcoming though tolerable, but quite unpleasant sensations, he first lay on his side, then, shifting his weight on his hands, so as not to rub the seams against the bed, he landed facing down.
"Okay, get your feet on the floor."
It was not too difficult, he felt for the floor with toes first and was ready to stand, but in that instant, a wave of panic swept over him as he felt the damn thing in his ass moving.
"Oh, damn, it's coming–"
"No, nothing is coming out of you, it is plugged and secured properly," Sintri-kaia snapped. "Just hold right there for a little while, catch your breath. Do not worry. Are you feeling dizzy?"
Chris breathed quickly and heavily, breaking out in a cold sweat. There was a little disorientation, but one could live with it. He shook his head, then, after standing a little bent over the bed, he began to straighten up.
"You are doing great," the assistant encouraged and held out her hand, open palm up. "Shall we take a walk?"
Chris slowly turned around to face the sofa, took the offered hand, and only now he had noticed how quiet was there in the room. He tried to turn his head back, but was stopped by kaia.
"Don't get distracted! Newman-kri, step forward, Morgan-kri and Nixon-kri, try rolling to each side, and then rest and wait for your turn.
Slowly, with the support, Chris made it to the opposite wall and back. The dilator was an actual pain in the arse, but it remained solid in place. When the walk was over, he asked if he could have a T-shirt. Kaia went to the lockers and came back with simple hospital robes for Chris and the others. When he climbed onto the bed, she carefully examined his stitches, scanned the abdominal cavity, and said that in her opinion everything was in order and nothing was lost on the way, and that she would send the scanning material to their curator for confirmation. Then she moved to the next bed, leaving Chris to rest and cheer up his comrades.
When leaving, kaia praised everyone and asked not to repeat the trick on their own today, but only supervised if they feel like walking a bit later. Although, after all the stress experienced, the guys were not sure whether they would go for such an extraordinary feat any time soon. True, there was undoubtedly a plus in this entire workout, now they could sleep in any position they'd like.
Oddly enough, after the morning exercises, the time went faster. Chris had hardly read a new topic on genetics when Madame François arrived with lunch. When they finished their next batch of yogurt, the guys from the class rushed into the room: two of them came to Steve and Carrie; Josh was with them. The students laughed and encouraged the 'patients' told what was new in their groups, in classes, and their personal lives. Not long after that, the now-familiar assistants came in to inspect and process all the stitches. As soon as everything was done and the interns took off, Erzketau and Professor Shirokawa showed up. The professor asked everyone how they feel, asking to describe each thing in detail, reminded, that they need to start filling the diary of moods and feelings, write down everything that happens to their bodies and minds, so as not to forget to discuss later with the curator. While he was talking, Erzketau began to scan the young men. This time he made some comments to introduce the professor to the course of patients' recovery process.
"Okay, I think that so far everything is fine and we are moving in the right direction," Shirokawa said approvingly. "The only unknown in this equation is how the humoral system will react. Or rather, whether it will react at all. These surgeries will show if everything was done correctly thirty years ago."
"Yes," Zirka simply agreed.
"Well, then, let's see where it leads us. And I'd still like a few words with Chris."
"Certainly, I'll start with Morgan-kri then. It's time for gents to take a shower."
"Oh, I'm all for that!" Steve was delighted.
Indeed, a light wash at least is what they desperately needed. Though, is the project manager going to bathe them himself? Chris thought as the professor pulled a chair over to his bed.
"Well, young man, are you still determined to cooperate?" The professor asked, looking at Chris.
"Yes," taking a more comfortable pose facing Shirokawa, the student nodded, "except for very insignificant moments, I do not regret my decision and intend to continue what I started."
"Well, we, in fact, too, and therefore we should discuss your transfer to a home or a shortened day training, in general, we're still thinking this over, depending on what functions will be entrusted to you and how much of the working time they will take, or rather study time." He hesitated a bit before continuing, "I guess the routine will be something like the one the fifth years' do. Be that as it may, everything will be settled before September, but for now, consider that you are officially enrolled for the summer practice in the seventh building."
"Thank you, sir; I will do everything not to let you down."
Both nodded to each other; Shirokawa got up and walked to the exit. Erzketau and Steve emerged from the bathroom door. The scientific coordinator supported him by the arm, while Steve, his hair damp, with a towel over his shoulders, stomped slowly, groaning each time his foot landed on the floor.
"Next one," Erzketau went to Carey's bed, waited until he slid down, and led him to the bathroom.
It took Carey a little over five minutes. Sighing, Chris rolled onto his stomach, swinging his legs off the bed.
"Need a hold?" he heard right beside him.
Chris just grinned wryly. He got up slowly, getting used to the sensations, trying to squeeze his pelvis – a slight spasm tightened the lower abdomen and he flinched. Yes, they were told that this crap will not slip out, but reflexes are stronger than that. Straightening up, he strode past Erzketau with an awkward and trembling gait. Finding himself in the bathroom, he undressed trying not to pay attention to the observer, then raised his eyes to the zirka and said defiantly:
"Hey, why can't I get a default indifferent ignore, like others, why is it only me, dear project manager, who receives a life-affirming dose of malice comments?" stepping into the booth and adjusting water taps he said, "Kri, you'd rather be more careful, or someone will guess."
"Huh? Guess what?" Tau enquired folding his arms and raising an eyebrow.
"Hmm..." Chris only shrugged vaguely and drew the curtain.
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Hygienic sterilizer – all for the protection of the environment, down with toilet paper! In general, this device is a substitute for it; it cleans and disinfects everything with one click. Magic arse wand. We have fiction here or what :)