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| Earning the Wings; A thesis on intervention on evolution. | |
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| Topic Started: January 21 2009, 02:19 AM (28 Views) | |
| ZeikHunter | January 21 2009, 02:19 AM Post #1 |
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"It will only hurt a bit. After this, you will be world-renowned,” I proclaimed as I stuck the up-link into Warren's right hand. “I hope you're left-handed,” I remarked afterward. Warren Fesala Jr. was laying face-down on a table with a hole for his head which was lined with leather so he didn't cut himself, but could still speak and react. He needed it when the line was inserted and he yelped. “Doctor Entrana, are you sure this will work? No one's tested it yet, after all,” Warren argued. “That is the reason you are here today. You are my alpha. You will be the first to take flight, without balloon or propeller. You will be a cherub of steam,” I proudly spoke. I took out a big needle and quickly injected it into Warren's rear. He says he lost all feeling in his body, and soon he was knocked out. He was none the wiser to what he would become. The first thing Warren reported to feel was the cow skin around his face. Then his amber hair shuffling. His body became familiar again. But there was one drastic change which Warren never felt before that moment. He felt metal pressing on his back and some hot air caressing his neck. In shock, he pressed himself up with his arms and sat facing me as I grinned. He yelled at me, “Mirror! Mirror! Let me see what you've done to me!” I nodded, walked off and pulled a full-body mirror in front of his test subject. We were both awestruck. Warren Fesala Jr. had brass angel wings. Warren hesitantly felt his left wing. The cold metal slid across his fingertips. It was unreal. Then, after he tensed up from the initial cold shock, it moved. I, Dr. Frederick Entrana, jumped in to explain my work. “Sensors are attached to your spinal column. They receive pulses from your brain just like your other muscles. However, instead of molecules giving it energy, there's a coal stove that ignites on your command. All you have to do is think about what you want it to do. Just... think.” I stepped back to let Warren experiment. I quickly took out a page to take note of the action. Warren put an elbow on his thigh and leaned on his arm. He furrowed his brow and both wings simultaneously flapped. He jolted back from the power of the brass add-ons. Warren then alternated left and right wings, tried moving in the opposite direction, and practiced steering. At last, Warren stood on the ground and lifted himself into the air. When his feet lost stable ground, he kicked around and swatted with his hands, so likewise, he spun throughout the room. When Warren realized the reaction, he told himself to stabilize, and his body answered by straightening out. I stood, applauded and cheered, “Bravo, Warren. You're a shining star overcasting the road of evolution.” Warren bowed and inadvertently did a front flip. He slowly dropped to his feet so he wouldn't turn upside-down again; he was fairly dizzy from the confusing ride he took earlier. He sighed and listened to my study procedure. “Take this diary. Write down everything that happens to you and your wings this month. Put as much detail as you can. I want as much information for my thesis. This could be the best thing that will happen to the both of us. Good luck, Mr. Fesala.” “I hope to see you this time in May, Professor,” Warren admitted, extending his hand to shake mine. After a vigorous handshake, Warren opened the door out of the classroom. I heard the steam venting as, I assume, Warren flew through the university halls out into the streets. 12 April – The wings have yet to mistreat me. I have begun to test their limitations with altitude and speed. This afternoon, I flew a good five meters above the deck of an airship. I was surprised to find out that this height was when the wings ceased to repel enough to sustain flight. I managed to land on said ship and descend gently to Earth. Tomorrow, I will test flight speed above the city. Of course, may no harm come to me and may I see the sunset tomorrow. This page was an excerpt from the aforementioned diary. On the thirteenth day of April, Warren flew over the city. He vastly underestimated the amount of coal he would be burning and, over the clock tower, he ran out of fuel. He was... impaled by the spire. There was no predicting this, nor was there any way of preventing it. All I know is that Warren earned his wings and will be sorely missed. Maybe in the near future we will harness the power of lightning, air, or some ingenious energy source we have yet to know about. Despite the tragic death of Warren Fesala, Jr. and Experiment 1, I will continue to lift mankind off the ground, not just in mass groups, but one at a time. If I fail at giving my peers wings of brass, then at least they will receive grand feathered wings when they pass on. That is all I have to say about the wings of man. May no harm come to you and may you all see the sunset today. |
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