Print “Yeah, I know.  Apparently, none of the transplanted material took in any of the others.  Sudden tissue rejection.”

“Do you know the prognosis for Harry, here?”

“End of the line for the program.  If it doesn’t work with him, the effort dies.”

“Literally and figuratively.”

She winced.

“Didn’t mean it that way,” he said.

 “Bill, let’s review his history before we start.  OK?”

“Sure.  Shouldn’t we anesthetize you-know-who?”

“In due time.  I don’t think he’ll recognize what we say.  It’s all medical technology.  Most outside this lab don’t understand it, either.”

“Just the same, let’s put him under and start the first cycle of the procedure.”

“Fair enough.  Harry, come here.”

Harry walked back over to the white-suits and expecting his hunger and thirst issues neared resolution.  The man called Bill pulled Harry’s arm up and swabbed an area with white cotton that reeked with the sickening smells from earlier.  He winced when the needle went in.  Soon he yawned.  Minutes later he walked over to his quiet corner of the lab away from other cages, curled up and relaxed on the cot, still hungry and thirsty.  One of the white suits flipped pages back and forth and added a comment or two with words that confused Harry. 

“… procedures with stem cells much different than when technology first …”

“Two decades and hundreds of thousands of xenos later …”

“… less latency…”

“Tissue rejection …”

“Longer run-up before …”

“… sterile versus non-sterile…”

“Humanoid.”

Harry Branscombe fell into a deep sleep.

 

Twelve hours later, to the minute, he awoke to feel a slight tingle at the top of his neck.  He tried to reach back to the spot, but discovered his arms and legs strapped to a hard metal table.  Bright lights bored into his eyes.  The sickening smell once again hung heavy in the air.  Hums and beeps played off in the background and he tried to see the source.  They immobilized his head, too, with a strap across his forehead.  Harry’s head and body seemed to exist on different planes, a severed connection between the two.  He started to panic and wiggle, however, the straps held him hard against the metal surface. 

As he struggled, the hums and beeps grew louder.  He relaxed a moment and heard the intensity and volume of the electronic noise diminish.  The exertion gave him a headache, anyway; and as he rested, the throb in his temples subsided. 

Harry’s mind buzzed with different thoughts than he had before.  No longer placid and compliant, he raised questions in his mind about location and status.