Random Impulses |
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Having worked in everything from air traffic control to cleaning, Natalie has a varied pool of experience upon which to draw inspiration. Better known for her travel writing, she hopes to break into the field of science fiction -- her first love. Send e-mail to Natalie by clicking on the postbox icon above.
"It's quite incredible, really, Mr. Whitton," the doctor laughed, captivated by a coloured x-ray on the light box. "We didn't even know this sort of thing was possible." Adam Whitton was beyond amused. He sat behind the doctor, tweaking an ear idly, yet painfully. The doctor turned in time to see the hulking arm concede, loosening its grip before falling innocently to the man's side. The look on Adam's bruised face did not fail to relay his anger. "I don't want it any more," he spat. "I wish we'd never attached it." With a sudden, defiant twitch, the arm hit out at the doctor's supply of tongue depressors, scattering them. "You see! You see what I have to put up with!" Adam cried in desperation. The arm started pounding the armrest of the chair. Adam pulled away, dragging the offending object with him. "You've turned me into some kind of freak, with this… this…" He indicated the large, hairy appendage, "this thing!" The arm suddenly flew up and hit an already purple part of Adam's face. "You've got to take it off before it kills somebody -- or me!" The doctor stepped back, aware of the risk. "In retrospect I can see that perhaps we should not have used genetic material from a wrestler, but I assure you we don't need to take it off. Now, if we…" Adam held his temper no longer: "Why the hell didn't we just use my genetic material?" "Because you, Mr Whitton, were only prepared to pay for an arm, which we can't grow by itself. The Cairo Crusher paid for a whole body and only used the foot! Your only other match was a female ballet dancer and that would have taken some serious hormone treatment." "At least that would have been safer!" "Adam, you would have grown breasts!" "And you see this as a problem?" "Look, Adam, as I explained before there was a small glitch in the growth process. For whatever reason the nerve tissue in the upper arm replicated itself more than we expected." "Giving the arm its own brain?" The doctor laughed arrogantly. "Hardly a brain, more of a ganglion really. It merely over-rides some of the messages coming from your brain and creates new ones of its own." "It's trying to ruin my life." "I assure you, it is not trying to do anything. It can't think, it's just sending our random impulses. It's nothing we can't fix. We just need to cut it out." The arm flew out wildly, catching the doctor square on his chin. He fell hard, arms flailing like a spider on a hotplate, head slamming the floor. Adam almost fell with the force of the swing. He found himself staring into the eyes of the partially conscious medico. It was his turn to laugh. "Damn those random impulses, eh doc?"
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