Parasite Eve Sephirotto Part 21

She went over her speech from the beginning for nearly two hours, alone.

When she was able to recite it all from memory, she glanced at the clock. She had finished in under fourteen minutes. At least, she did not have to worry about being within the time limit, regardless of how anxious she was.

Her throat was getting hoa.r.s.e, so Asakura sat down to rest. It was already midnight.

As she stretched, she realized how fatigued she was lately. It felt like she had done two days' work for each single day that pa.s.sed. It was an unhealthy pattern to be in. All she needed to do was go home, run a bath, and soak her anxieties away.

But she was losing memories.

These past ten days, she had experienced missing time. One moment she was making slide diagrams and the next, she was sitting in front of the clean bench. Then, when she came to her senses again, she was at her desk with the finished slides. These memory lapses happened mostly when no one was around, but sometimes during midday as well. She had no memory of having cake with everyone after the rehearsal and only knew how it went from the praise that followed.

She stretched back. It was probably nothing. Maybe it was a bit eerie, but she saw no need to seek help.

Asakura got up from the chair. She had forgotten about the cells.

Not Eve 1, but the cells which she would be discussing tomorrow. She had continued working on them in the hopes of using them after the annual meeting. The flask was surely full by now. Since she was leaving in the morning, they could die out completely if she did not work on them tonight.

Asakura got up and left for the Cultivation Room. The hallway lights were already off and there was not a soul around.

She entered the Cultivation Room and opened the refrigerator to take out her flask.

"Hm...?"

Asakura c.o.c.ked her head to one side.

She was almost out of culture medium.

She'd made an ample amount just a week ago. Now the flask was almost empty.

Asakura had been distracted by her speech preparations this week and had worked on her cells very little. She was cultivating only one variety. Even so, her store of culture medium was severely diminished.

All researchers had their own flask, for individual use, to avoid contamination, and it was highly unlikely that someone else had used her sample. Even for a much larger cell culture, there was no reason for a 500 milliliter loss to occur in such a short span of time.

Asakura continued with the preparations anyway. The amounts of trypsin, EDTA, and other agents were kept unchanged.

It was probably all in her head. She decided not to dwell on the matter.

When she finished preparing everything in the clean bench, she went to the incubator and took the cells from inside.

She closed the door and retraced her steps.

Caught by a strange sensation, she stopped what she was doing.

She turned around. The incubator door was closed.

Asakura looked back and forth between the incubator and the culture flask in her hand.

Nothing was different, but something was wrong.

She had no memory of looking into the incubator.

Asakura shook her head. Had she not just taken the flask out? She was holding it, after all.

Yet, no matter how much she strained, she could not picture what it had looked like, just now, inside the incubator.

... something funny is going on here.

She smiled uncomfortably.

All she needed to do was finish the cultivation and go home. She could not avoid sleep forever. Tomorrow was her big day.

She returned to the clean bench and began disinfecting her hands with alcohol.

SHE was satisfied with progress.

Compared to when She was first immersed in the cultivation liquid, She was incredibly more evolved. She now had perfect control over Her host. Even those signals She had had to wait for from the outside, She could now easily produce on Her own. She was able now to manipulate the transcription factors that microbiologists called Fos and Jun as well as the protein kinase necessary for signal reception. Among that mult.i.tude, She incited mutations, modifying them all so that they could be activated even in the absence of outside stimuli. She could now produce just the needed amount < p="">

She was also content with the laboratory environment. The necessary tools for evolution were all here. Of course, things hadn't gone so well from the outset. First, She'd had to divide into countless colonies, imparting different stimuli to each one. One of the colonies was bathed in the UV lamp, another took in methylcholanthrene and DAB, carcinogens.

Nearly all of them went extinct. Even if they survived, they mutated into something unrelated to Her ultimate purpose. In the past seven days, She'd gone through much trial and error, executing every possible combination. Any excellent line that arose, She nurtured and multiplied. Lately there was never anyone around at night, so She could be as bold as She wished. The woman named Asakura whom She now possessed also aided Her development.

In this past week, the lab, and the Cultivation Room, had become the stage for Her final evolutionary experiment.

She had endured countless millennia, dreaming this day would come. She had endured the meek role of producing energy as Her host commanded. a.s.suming that She would always do so as long as She was provided sustenance, Her host simply never doubted Her submission, happily unaware that instilling this very arrogance had been part of Her plan.

Long ago, the host had evolved, ceasing to be a single-cell organism, choosing instead to be multi-cellular. Because each individual cell was allotted its own role, the whole moved efficiently and captured many prey. Quick reflexes became necessary and were developed.

The hosts eventually conquered land, acquired intelligence, and built civilizations. All along, they thought their evolution was an outcome of their own efforts. What simple genomes! All She could do was laugh.

Hadn't the hosts developed this far because She'd parasitized them? Hadn't She provided vast amounts of energy to them? Hadn't She imparted hope to feeble creatures who had been slinking in dark places, afraid < p="">

She'd merely been pretending to be controlled, waiting only for a man to appear who would truly understand Her, finally appreciate Her.

And now, at long last, the man had come.

Toshiaki Nagashima.

No one ever understood Her as well as he. Soon, he would become the foremost expert on Her. He had no peer, and he would clarify the truths about Her. She knew that for sure.

He was the only one who deserved Her.

She relived Kiyomi's past, shivering as She remembered the scintillating pleasure of love-making. No, it wasn't Kiyomi that Toshiaki was making love to.

He was making love to ME.

The ecstasy that rippled through Her entire being now was nearly enough to make Her swoon.

She sighed in remembrance of this deep joy. She let Her voice soar as high as it would go. What began as a faint vibration inside the indicator solution blossomed into a clear, human voice. Her mere moans were now an ecstatic voice. How wonderful this is, She thought. What a beautiful thing indeed, the voice.

Everything was in order.

All that remained was making Her man Hers.

She gathered all Her strength. Putting the nuclear genes to full use, She caused the host to multiply. She was able to fill the flask in no time. Once She'd reached the top, She unscrewed the lid from the inside, then pushed Her way out. It was warm and humid inside the incubator. While it wasn't as comfortable as being immersed in the cultivation liquid, the conditions were suitable for the host. So that Her voice may ring louder, She fashioned first a throat and a mouth. Then two lungs. She took a deep breath of oxygen and activated the electrical transmitters. Then, She uttered the word She'd most wanted to speak, enunciating it slowly, one syllable at a time: "TO-SHI-A-KI...".

She was deeply moved. Before, She'd needed the aid of Her sisters, who flourished in Toshiaki also, to make Her voice echo in his brain cells. Things were different now. She could speak. She could make the air vibrate, shake the very heavens calling out his name.

She multiplied further to construct Her figure. A figure that would please Toshiaki the most, that if Kiyomi, once Her host. It was a figure She'd altered to begin with to suit Toshiaki. Kiyomi had been made into his perfect woman.

She wanted to feel. She hastened to create those parts that would receive his love. She made lips. Toshiaki loved these lips, the same lips he'd kissed time and time again. Now She wanted a breast, and a soft, perfect dome rose out. She gathered more and more nerve end-ings as the mound approached its peak, and let rise a small erection at the top. In the narrow confines of the incubator, one of these was all She could make. But She was satisfied with Her work. She imagined the moment Toshiaki would touch them, and trembled all over. She then formed a dip within Her: a womb and a v.a.g.i.n.a. She folded pleats in the latter, again and again, varying their strength, so that Toshiaki would be happy. And lastly, She created a long protrusion next to it, a slender finger.

With the tip of this finger, She touched Her newly fashioned part, relishing the sensation. And Her nipple rose, hard, acute with pleasure. Perfect sensitivity. She breathed hard. She was ready to have Toshiaki.

The little girl, Her younger sister, was in good health. Meanwhile, She had no use for the male. He had to be allowed to die. But the girl was important. It was a pleasant stroke of luck that one < p="">

She picked up Her sister's pulse. Her sister had yet to traverse the final process if evolution and couldn't quite change the girl's form, but was able to send signals. From these, She could tell the exact location < p="">

Otherwise, Her plan would not reach complete fruition. There was a reason She'd made Kiyomi register at a kidney bank.

Not much longer now. Soon, She would be queen. As She continued to caress Herself, She grew drunk on the thought.

She was Her host's slave no longer. She was the mistress, nuclei Her servants. She would be able to create a daughter < p="">

An Eve for the new world.

PART THREE.

EVOLUTION.

1.

The sky was clearing.

Toshiaki gazed at it from the large lobby window as its color changed from deep midsummer azure to a more tranquil, watery hue. Gauze-like clouds drifted faintly in the distance. Though the weather was still hot, the sunlight was losing its intensity in the September air, already giving him a feeling of autumn.

The lobby was overflowing with countless researchers and entrepreneurs here for the meeting. Everyone was clad in suits, name cards pinned to their lapels. Toshiaki noted that more and more women were showing up every year.

Aside from the annual meeting of the j.a.panese Cancer a.s.sociation, the j.a.panese Biochemical Society's conference was the biggest in the field of biological science. Nearly 3,000 speech topics were scheduled on the program. The venue changed annually, and this time it was being held on Toshiaki's home turf. The campus was open and had many places to hold such a conference, but, due to the number of presentations, the event hall was being used.

It was past 2 pm. It was also Sunday and there appeared to be a few among the crowd who had already taken it upon themselves to do some local sightseeing. The lobby was overflowing with groups getting their plans together. This important gathering was, of course, a forum designed for the presentation of research, but it was also an opportunity to keep tabs on what other inst.i.tutions were working on. One of the more enjoyable perks was reuniting with colleagues that one normally had no chance to meet up with. Conversations began immediately upon arrival and led inevitably to after-hours outings. Toshiaki had already caught up with many old schoolmates and fellow researchers from other universities.

This meeting was the most important social event of the year for many who were there.

Toshiaki had already given his presentation and many of the students would be finishing their poster sessions the same afternoon. He was asked to oversee certain sessions, but was now finished with that as well. All that remained was for Asakura's presentation to go smoothly and he could call it quits for the day.

He opened the program, making sure of the time. The schedules and topic summaries were mailed out beforehand. He had read through them all, marking in red those that were relevant to his work, or simply looked intriguing. While there was no shortage of lectures along his lines of interest, such as on mitochondrial structure and formation or on the inner workings of protein induction, it was also his duty to gauge the progress of other fields.

There was nothing of interest to Toshiaki until four o'clock. He decided to take advantage of the two-hour block of free time that awaited him by checking out the exhibition being held in another building. Various booths were lined up in rows, displaying the latest in scientific equipment and chemical agents, and were drawing quite a crowd.

Toshiaki preferred this spot to the conference hall, where he was continuously obliged to be social. Here, he could examine the latest innovations at his own pace and fantasize about having this or that device in his lab. He walked around and browsed. When a chemical agent caught his attention, he talked with the tradesperson at the booth, asking for detailed explanations, and negotiated delivery of a few samples.

When he had seen half of the exhibits, a familiar voice came from behind.

"Nagashima.''

He turned around to see Kunio Shinohara standing there with a smile. He had with him some bag he'd received at one of the booths.

"Oh, hi. And your speech is...?"

"Tomorrow. I was so swamped at the hospital that I couldn't come to yours. Sorry about that."

"Don't worry about it."

"Your Nature article's out, I hear. You must've drawn quite a crowd."

"Heh, well..."

Toshiaki invited him over to the drink service area.

After getting some coffee, they took a seat.

Ever since Shinohara collected Kiyomi's liver cells for him, Toshiaki had been completely out of touch with the doctor. Toshiaki sensed some suspicion in Shinohara's looks. He continued with small talk for a while, hoping as he did so that Shinohara would not bring up Eve 1.

But when the coffee was gone, Shinohara touched upon the topic as feared. He lowered his voice and moved in closer.

"By the way, Nagashima, how are the 'cells' doing?"

"What cells...?"Toshiaki tried clumsily to feign ignorance.

"Don't play dumb with me. Kiyomi's cells." Shinohara's tone became stern.

"What the h.e.l.l did you use them for?"

"You cultivated them, didn't you?" "...they're still alive, yes, "Toshiaki confessed reluctantly. "I don't know what you're planning, Nagashima, but you should really stop before it gets out of hand." "Why?"