Grizzly Science - Ch. 1
"Grizzly Science" Written by Gryphbear
Chapter 1
A man dressed in a lab coat puttered around his research notes, muttering softly to himself, feeling frantic while he scanned the thousands of lines of coding for the nanites. He shook his head, "They shouldn't have announced it so soon."
His brown hair stuck out anywhere there was nothing restraining it, as he pushed his oval glasses up his nose again, frowning at the latest programming batch for the nanites. "Hmm. What's this?"
He peered closer at a particular group of lines then smiled brightly with relief, feeling flushed that he managed to track down the issue.
"That's it. That's what was doing it! No wonder it slowed down in half of the trials last week."
He bent over and furiously typed away -- creating a different algorithm that'd improve nanite speed and efficiency by twenty percent. At this moment, he knew that the nanites would probably suffice for most people, but there was always room for error -- especially human error.
He strove to make the programming as concise and error-free as humanely possible. He was also trying to optimize the code in order for it to operate at 95% efficiency.
Once he finished typing up the closing end of the programming module, he leaned back and winced as his back cracked. His hand hovered over the keyboard before he hit enter, sending all of the updates into the batch of nanites that were kept in an tightly sealed container.
With that done, he sighed in relief. "Well, they should operate within normal parameters now without degradation or slowed responses."
He took his glasses off, rubbing the bridge of his nose -- now the headache that he had was beginning to dissipate.
"Now, it's all up to the company to screen appropriate applicants."
The older man twitched as he slept on the couch, his chin resting on his chest. His eyes moved restlessly within his eyelids. Near inaudible mutters barely could be heard.
Running through a darkened forest, he began to sniff at the cold damp air. He caught the scent of something that he didn't know how to identify. He trotted toward the scent, with curiosity. The scent grew stronger, as his thirst deepened. It had been a long journey.
Padding slower, he approached the source of the scent, and saw a great body of water before him. As he reached the shore, he gazed downward, and saw something. The shape in the water bore no resemblance to him. He stared at it in nonrecognition.
What am I? Who am I? Who is this Beast? Is that me? NO! I'm Grant!
Grant abruptly woke up the next morning with a stifled groan, then he realized he had slept on the couch. His neck hurt like hell, as he had slept with his face firmly forward on his chest. That dream was a recurring one, but he had given up long ago trying to figure it out.
He rubbed his eyes wearily with one hand as he gazed around his living room, with detached resignation.
He sat there for several minutes, feeling his neck pop when he cracked it from side to side with a wince, then relief on his features. He felt a lassitude spreading over him, before duty reminded him of work.
He took a deep breath, and started having a coughing fit, then cleared his throat to help still his hacking. He growled softly under his breath, and forced himself upward, then went on his way into the bathroom to shower for work.
Later that afternoon inside a tiny cubicle, Grant sat at the computer laptop, silently fuming. It was misbehaving -- not reading the documents that he needed to print out. He restrained his impulses -- which were to smash the laptop with his fist.
What he desperately wanted to do was smoke a cigar, but rules dictated that he couldn't until he finished for the day. His teeth ground together in frustration, and he tried to breathe deeply in order to relax.
This ensued in another choking fit which he grabbed some water from his desk and drank enough to relax his throat. He grumbled, wondering if he really should visit the doctor soon. Lately, he had felt as if his lungs were a bit clogged, and it was a little harder to breathe - deeply, at least.
He scratched the back of his head and scowled. "'Pose I should talk to Chris down the hall for some help."
In fact, he didn't really want to, but it looked like he had no choice. Chris was the smartest one in the building when it came to how computers worked. But that didn't make him a nerd in appearances -- contrary to his braininess, Chris managed to keep up with the trends in clothing, and always wore casual work clothes that were always well put together.
But Chris made Grant feel a bit nervous.
Chris wanted to date Grant, but he wasn't that interested. Not one whit. For Chris was wafer-thin, and had carrot-colored hair, along with the tendency to wear formfitting clothes to work.
Grant preferred men with more meat on their physiques... if he were looking. The printer still remained stubbornly unresponsive, and he snorted in disgust. At least the papers he had to print weren't urgent enough to be done this moment, and could take a little longer before they were required to be handed in.
He got to his feet, and ambled down the hall to Chris' cubicle. As he got there, it was empty. He gazed inside, wondering where Chris was. It was sparse, but several photos of Chris' family littered the shelves here and there, along with some personal touches on the tack-board walls.
"Hello Grant. What brings you by?"
Grant's jaw clenched momentarily, barely restraining himself from jumping out of his skin as Chris spoke with a cheerful voice behind him. He turned around after composing himself, and spoke wearily. "Er, Laptop's being a bitch... I was trying to print something, but it won't print?" He shrugged, unsure what to say next.
Chris nodded. "Sounds like a clogged resource issue. Let's go check it out."
Grant nodded, and followed dutifully after Chris as he went toward Grant's cubicle.
Chris seated himself at the laptop, and studied the situation, and did a few random mouse clicks, along with Ctrl-Alt-Del keystrokes to bring up the Task manager.
Quickly scanning the application list, he frowned, then smiled triumphantly. "Ah! There we are! Now we just cancel your print job, then shut this program off. It's just sitting on the laptop clogging your resources, so I'm going to shut that one down, then things should run more smoothly."
As he explained things, Grant watched as Chris deftly unclogged the laptop's resource problem, and restarted the print job.
Grant smiled politely. "Thank you. That will help."
Chris stood up and let Grant sit down again, and lingered outside the cubicle. He smiled warmly, and quietly spoke. "If you need anything else... let me know. Even if it's not for the computer."
Grant felt awkward, and shrugged brusquely, his attention turned back on the laptop's monitor.
"Right. Thanks again." Grant heard Chris' quiet sigh, and footfalls departing. He wasn't sure if he should feel guilty or not, but he was simply not interested. Perhaps he really should let him know, and save both of them further awkwardness. He shook that matter out of his mind and bent to his work again.
A bit later, the clock chimed six times, echoing throughout the floor. People started putting their files away, along with tidying up their cubicles, before punching out.
Grant closed his eyes, with his emotions worn out. Relief was one of the main emotions that was running through his mind. The others were bone-tired, and feeling downtrodden.
He slowly organized his cubicle, putting files away, and straightening things up, then grabbed his long jacket, putting it on. He grunted in slight pain as his back felt stiff from sitting all day; he stretched his arms up and to the side, and felt his muscles protest, but loosen up after a few moments of stretching.
One thought kept drifting to the front of his mind. He was desperate to smoke on a cigar; he had stowed one in his jacket this morning. He'd be able to start one the moment he left the building, and his steps hurried slightly faster as he made his way to the elevator. He punched out at the entrance to the building.
Once he exited the building, he rumbled a soft growl in his chest as he stretched his back once more, feeling the cool crisp evening air. Grant quickly dug out his cigar, and prepared it, then lit it.
Rolling the cigar in his mouth, he suckled it softly, bringing the tip to a soft glow. Smoke drifted out from his bearded mouth in wisps, to waft upwards in a cloud. His body responded to it as a thirst that was suddenly quenched, and relaxation spread through his body.
He started walking home -- he lived only seven blocks from his job, so there wasn't a need to drive. It also served to help him relax enough without snapping at people before he got home.
He had been feeling rather ill all day, but he attributed it to the weather, which had rained heavily last night. Clouds filled the sky with a light gray color that seemed to match his mood.
"So, what's the status on the latest batch of code you corrected?" An older man dressed in a navy three-piece suit, sat behind a large antique oak desk, studying some papers laying on an open manila folder. He gazed upward and shut the folder, resting his hands on it. His expression looked hopeful, but concerned.
The man with wild brown hair and oval glasses smiled happily. "Yes, Mr. Lantan, um, well. As the file says - the nanites were suffering degradation of speed and efficiency in half of the trials, but I believe I've managed to correct for that."
He leaned back in his leather plush computer chair and sighed in obvious relief. "Thank god. I wasn't sure about announcing the release of nanite treatment for the most terminal of cases so soon. But the board overruled my opinion."
He gestured toward the folder. "That, Mr. Hollan, is the best thing they did. This time. So what other news to report?"
Mr. Hollan grinned and absent-mindedly tried to smooth his hair back to no avail, and chuckled. "Not much other than it was a miracle I got lucky and found the exact procedure that was causing the problem."
He paused for a moment, "When are applications for nanite treatments going to be available?"
Mr. Lantan frowned, opening the folder again, and scanning the first page. "Ah yes, it should start in several days. We will be getting referrals from the main hospital in each capital of each state."
Mr. Hollan crossed his arms in thought. "Won't that be a little too slow? What about those who get into very serious accidents? or only have moments to live?"
The older man sighed, rubbing his face in weariness. "We're not God, Mr. Hollan. We can only get to so many people. All we can do is do the best we can...."
Mr. Hollan's expression grew contemplative, feeling a hunch that many people wouldn't get what they needed in time.
A spark of an idea ran through his head, as he sharply looked up.
"What.. What about about assigning engineers as Nanite Doctors or working with Doctors in each hospital, to maybe coordinate our efforts -- to help get nanites to the most critical as soon as humanely possible, instead of waiting for them to be screened?"
Mr. Lantan gestured outward in helplessness. "Maybe. That may be a good idea, but that kind of thing would take years. Right now this is the quickest way. I'll bring that idea up to the board at the next meeting."
He straightened up, and closed the folder, holding his hand over it. "That's all, thank you."
Mr. Hollan inclined his head, then turned around leaving the office. He liked dealing with Mr. Lantan -- primarily because he was a very approachable, and genuine person, and he never made you feel beneath him. He wandered the halls of the top floor until he got into the elevator to go to the basement.
His thoughts wandered back toward his 'boss'. Mr. Lantan was a senior member of the council in Tech-Nol, who oversaw every operation that went on in the building. When he first met Mr. Lantan, he didn't expect to be greeted as a friend, within certain boundaries. Formal within casualness. It was a big change from most of the relationships he had in engineering school.
The world was on the brink of a change, and he hoped it'd be all wonderful, but one could never tell sometimes.
[TBC]
[Previous: Prologue] [Next: Chapter 2]
Chapter 1
A man dressed in a lab coat puttered around his research notes, muttering softly to himself, feeling frantic while he scanned the thousands of lines of coding for the nanites. He shook his head, "They shouldn't have announced it so soon."
His brown hair stuck out anywhere there was nothing restraining it, as he pushed his oval glasses up his nose again, frowning at the latest programming batch for the nanites. "Hmm. What's this?"
He peered closer at a particular group of lines then smiled brightly with relief, feeling flushed that he managed to track down the issue.
"That's it. That's what was doing it! No wonder it slowed down in half of the trials last week."
He bent over and furiously typed away -- creating a different algorithm that'd improve nanite speed and efficiency by twenty percent. At this moment, he knew that the nanites would probably suffice for most people, but there was always room for error -- especially human error.
He strove to make the programming as concise and error-free as humanely possible. He was also trying to optimize the code in order for it to operate at 95% efficiency.
Once he finished typing up the closing end of the programming module, he leaned back and winced as his back cracked. His hand hovered over the keyboard before he hit enter, sending all of the updates into the batch of nanites that were kept in an tightly sealed container.
With that done, he sighed in relief. "Well, they should operate within normal parameters now without degradation or slowed responses."
He took his glasses off, rubbing the bridge of his nose -- now the headache that he had was beginning to dissipate.
"Now, it's all up to the company to screen appropriate applicants."
******************************
Running through a darkened forest, he began to sniff at the cold damp air. He caught the scent of something that he didn't know how to identify. He trotted toward the scent, with curiosity. The scent grew stronger, as his thirst deepened. It had been a long journey.
Padding slower, he approached the source of the scent, and saw a great body of water before him. As he reached the shore, he gazed downward, and saw something. The shape in the water bore no resemblance to him. He stared at it in nonrecognition.
What am I? Who am I? Who is this Beast? Is that me? NO! I'm Grant!
Grant abruptly woke up the next morning with a stifled groan, then he realized he had slept on the couch. His neck hurt like hell, as he had slept with his face firmly forward on his chest. That dream was a recurring one, but he had given up long ago trying to figure it out.
He rubbed his eyes wearily with one hand as he gazed around his living room, with detached resignation.
He sat there for several minutes, feeling his neck pop when he cracked it from side to side with a wince, then relief on his features. He felt a lassitude spreading over him, before duty reminded him of work.
He took a deep breath, and started having a coughing fit, then cleared his throat to help still his hacking. He growled softly under his breath, and forced himself upward, then went on his way into the bathroom to shower for work.
Later that afternoon inside a tiny cubicle, Grant sat at the computer laptop, silently fuming. It was misbehaving -- not reading the documents that he needed to print out. He restrained his impulses -- which were to smash the laptop with his fist.
What he desperately wanted to do was smoke a cigar, but rules dictated that he couldn't until he finished for the day. His teeth ground together in frustration, and he tried to breathe deeply in order to relax.
This ensued in another choking fit which he grabbed some water from his desk and drank enough to relax his throat. He grumbled, wondering if he really should visit the doctor soon. Lately, he had felt as if his lungs were a bit clogged, and it was a little harder to breathe - deeply, at least.
He scratched the back of his head and scowled. "'Pose I should talk to Chris down the hall for some help."
In fact, he didn't really want to, but it looked like he had no choice. Chris was the smartest one in the building when it came to how computers worked. But that didn't make him a nerd in appearances -- contrary to his braininess, Chris managed to keep up with the trends in clothing, and always wore casual work clothes that were always well put together.
But Chris made Grant feel a bit nervous.
Chris wanted to date Grant, but he wasn't that interested. Not one whit. For Chris was wafer-thin, and had carrot-colored hair, along with the tendency to wear formfitting clothes to work.
Grant preferred men with more meat on their physiques... if he were looking. The printer still remained stubbornly unresponsive, and he snorted in disgust. At least the papers he had to print weren't urgent enough to be done this moment, and could take a little longer before they were required to be handed in.
He got to his feet, and ambled down the hall to Chris' cubicle. As he got there, it was empty. He gazed inside, wondering where Chris was. It was sparse, but several photos of Chris' family littered the shelves here and there, along with some personal touches on the tack-board walls.
"Hello Grant. What brings you by?"
Grant's jaw clenched momentarily, barely restraining himself from jumping out of his skin as Chris spoke with a cheerful voice behind him. He turned around after composing himself, and spoke wearily. "Er, Laptop's being a bitch... I was trying to print something, but it won't print?" He shrugged, unsure what to say next.
Chris nodded. "Sounds like a clogged resource issue. Let's go check it out."
Grant nodded, and followed dutifully after Chris as he went toward Grant's cubicle.
Chris seated himself at the laptop, and studied the situation, and did a few random mouse clicks, along with Ctrl-Alt-Del keystrokes to bring up the Task manager.
Quickly scanning the application list, he frowned, then smiled triumphantly. "Ah! There we are! Now we just cancel your print job, then shut this program off. It's just sitting on the laptop clogging your resources, so I'm going to shut that one down, then things should run more smoothly."
As he explained things, Grant watched as Chris deftly unclogged the laptop's resource problem, and restarted the print job.
Grant smiled politely. "Thank you. That will help."
Chris stood up and let Grant sit down again, and lingered outside the cubicle. He smiled warmly, and quietly spoke. "If you need anything else... let me know. Even if it's not for the computer."
Grant felt awkward, and shrugged brusquely, his attention turned back on the laptop's monitor.
"Right. Thanks again." Grant heard Chris' quiet sigh, and footfalls departing. He wasn't sure if he should feel guilty or not, but he was simply not interested. Perhaps he really should let him know, and save both of them further awkwardness. He shook that matter out of his mind and bent to his work again.
A bit later, the clock chimed six times, echoing throughout the floor. People started putting their files away, along with tidying up their cubicles, before punching out.
Grant closed his eyes, with his emotions worn out. Relief was one of the main emotions that was running through his mind. The others were bone-tired, and feeling downtrodden.
He slowly organized his cubicle, putting files away, and straightening things up, then grabbed his long jacket, putting it on. He grunted in slight pain as his back felt stiff from sitting all day; he stretched his arms up and to the side, and felt his muscles protest, but loosen up after a few moments of stretching.
One thought kept drifting to the front of his mind. He was desperate to smoke on a cigar; he had stowed one in his jacket this morning. He'd be able to start one the moment he left the building, and his steps hurried slightly faster as he made his way to the elevator. He punched out at the entrance to the building.
Once he exited the building, he rumbled a soft growl in his chest as he stretched his back once more, feeling the cool crisp evening air. Grant quickly dug out his cigar, and prepared it, then lit it.
Rolling the cigar in his mouth, he suckled it softly, bringing the tip to a soft glow. Smoke drifted out from his bearded mouth in wisps, to waft upwards in a cloud. His body responded to it as a thirst that was suddenly quenched, and relaxation spread through his body.
He started walking home -- he lived only seven blocks from his job, so there wasn't a need to drive. It also served to help him relax enough without snapping at people before he got home.
He had been feeling rather ill all day, but he attributed it to the weather, which had rained heavily last night. Clouds filled the sky with a light gray color that seemed to match his mood.
*********************************
The man with wild brown hair and oval glasses smiled happily. "Yes, Mr. Lantan, um, well. As the file says - the nanites were suffering degradation of speed and efficiency in half of the trials, but I believe I've managed to correct for that."
He leaned back in his leather plush computer chair and sighed in obvious relief. "Thank god. I wasn't sure about announcing the release of nanite treatment for the most terminal of cases so soon. But the board overruled my opinion."
He gestured toward the folder. "That, Mr. Hollan, is the best thing they did. This time. So what other news to report?"
Mr. Hollan grinned and absent-mindedly tried to smooth his hair back to no avail, and chuckled. "Not much other than it was a miracle I got lucky and found the exact procedure that was causing the problem."
He paused for a moment, "When are applications for nanite treatments going to be available?"
Mr. Lantan frowned, opening the folder again, and scanning the first page. "Ah yes, it should start in several days. We will be getting referrals from the main hospital in each capital of each state."
Mr. Hollan crossed his arms in thought. "Won't that be a little too slow? What about those who get into very serious accidents? or only have moments to live?"
The older man sighed, rubbing his face in weariness. "We're not God, Mr. Hollan. We can only get to so many people. All we can do is do the best we can...."
Mr. Hollan's expression grew contemplative, feeling a hunch that many people wouldn't get what they needed in time.
A spark of an idea ran through his head, as he sharply looked up.
"What.. What about about assigning engineers as Nanite Doctors or working with Doctors in each hospital, to maybe coordinate our efforts -- to help get nanites to the most critical as soon as humanely possible, instead of waiting for them to be screened?"
Mr. Lantan gestured outward in helplessness. "Maybe. That may be a good idea, but that kind of thing would take years. Right now this is the quickest way. I'll bring that idea up to the board at the next meeting."
He straightened up, and closed the folder, holding his hand over it. "That's all, thank you."
Mr. Hollan inclined his head, then turned around leaving the office. He liked dealing with Mr. Lantan -- primarily because he was a very approachable, and genuine person, and he never made you feel beneath him. He wandered the halls of the top floor until he got into the elevator to go to the basement.
His thoughts wandered back toward his 'boss'. Mr. Lantan was a senior member of the council in Tech-Nol, who oversaw every operation that went on in the building. When he first met Mr. Lantan, he didn't expect to be greeted as a friend, within certain boundaries. Formal within casualness. It was a big change from most of the relationships he had in engineering school.
The world was on the brink of a change, and he hoped it'd be all wonderful, but one could never tell sometimes.
[TBC]
[Previous: Prologue] [Next: Chapter 2]
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