Intermission Five -
Sergei
May 3
rd
, 2021 - New Eden, California - 1:37 pm
"You look exhausted, Sergei," Dr. McKenna said to Sergei Petrov as he entered the room, his partner Andrei having headed down to the canteen to grab them some lunch. "I know it's not exactly thrilling having to come here and ejaculate as many times as you can into a jar, but we're working to synthesize it as best as we can. Hopefully soon we'll be able to let you just sit and rest at home without needing you in here every few days, but because you've been here, we've saved hundreds of thousands of lives that we wouldn't have been able to help otherwise."
"Da, I know, the work we do is important, but it still feels hollow, even with Andrei here," Sergei sighed, handing another small jar of his jism to the doctor, who put it immediately into a storage container designed to keep it viable as long as possible. In an hour or so, it would get run through a separator, which would split it into tiny doses, that would then be sent out to hospitals all across the nation. His doses were viable for about a week, so the reassignment protocols were still being used relatively sparingly.
Supposedly the Germans had found a way to stabilize the reassignment vector into a pill form that remained viable for up to sixty days, but so far the Americans hadn't been able to replicate that. Sergei had heard the Germans were offering to share research with the Americans and the Brits, but so far, that offer had been viewed with a bit of suspicion. Sergei hoped they acquiesced soon, simply because it would mean he wouldn't have to come into the lab and masturbate into a jar several times a day. His protection and US citizenship was dependent on his cooperation.
"Think of how many non-heterosexual people you've kept alive, though, Sergei, if it ever gets tough," Dr. Eve Merriweather said. As the ex-wife of the man who'd developed the lock and key part of the Quaranteam serum, she had found herself at odds with Dr. Adam McCallister's work, even before he'd had them kidnapped to Russia. Now that she'd escaped (both from him and the Russians, although reports now claimed Adam was working for the Germans) and returned to California, she'd dedicated her life into cracking as much about the serum as she could and undoing some of the horrible work her husband had baked into humanity's last gasp at survival. "I know how difficult all this can be, but that's why we try and bring as many of those people in to meet you as we can, so that their faces will live on in your memory. To help you can keep in mind who these people are. So that you know actual people whose lives you saved, rather than them all being abstract numbers."
"I get this, Doctor, but you know, it still seems unfair that I can have only one partner, compared to the many you both have," Sergei chuckled before glancing at the door with a frown. "Do not tell Andrei I said that. He will consider me jealous man who wants more cock than he can handle. Are you any further into understanding why I'm different, Dr. Merriweather?"
"We're still trying to understand how my ex-husband's work ties into this," Eve sighed. "I can't say I'm especially thrilled about being paired up with a man for my survival, but it did keep us alive as a species."
"How is your new man, Watkins?" Sergei asked her. "Better?"
"He's... well, he's quite a lot different than Adam was," she said with a soft smile. "It's... nice, being able to talk about... feelings with a partner. We've only been together for less than a year, but I already feel infinitely closer to him than I ever did with Adam. And Nathaniel's existing partners are all good and charming women, so they have done their best about making me feel at home."
"It is much better than we had it in Russia," Sergei agreed. "There is no doubt about that. Better food. Better accommodation. Certainly, much better weather. But do I really need the security detail, protective forces around me at all times? I am no head of state, no super soldier."
"Well, you do have magic running through your veins," Eve told him. "There are probably only a handful of people like you in the world, whom the serum is reacting in a significantly different way."
"Da," Sergei said, "but is it true the Germans have someone like me?"
"It is," Eve replied. "And there are reports of a few others in other places, but it's still insanely rare. We haven't found anyone in the United States reporting such a condition yet, and we've had doctors on the lookout all across the country, now that they know how someone like you would react to people pairing with him."
"I am happy to be of use, Doctor," Sergei said, sitting down on the chair, picking up the carton of orange juice that was provided for him. He ended up drinking a few gallons of orange juice or pineapple juice each day, just to keep himself both hydrated and to keep his body up and running. It sounded like it should be easy work, masturbating into a jar several times a day, but it actually depleted his energy reserves quite quickly. "I must ask, Doctor... why are we asking those who use my sperm to get reassigned to remain entirely quiet during their reassignments? I heard one of the other scientists, Dr. Varma, mentioning that to you, but I had not heard as to why."
"There are... issues that can happen when we allow people to talk during that narrow window, so for the time being, we're insisting that no communication happen," Eve told him.
"That is unfortunate," Sergei replied, scratching the back of his neck. "They always look so enthusiastic when they make contact with my sperm, so eager to learn."
"That's part of the problem," Eve grumbled beneath her breath.
"What was that?" Sergei asked her, as he started to change back into his day to day clothes, instead of the hospital scrubs they had him wear around the labs.
"Nothing," Dr. McKenna said. "My colleague is just tired and crabby, that's all."
He nodded sagely. "This feeling I too know," he said stoically. "That feeling that you are trapped in never ending loop, that each day only runs into the next, a cycle we cannot escape."
"It's not
that
bad," Bill laughed. "You're well fed, you've got your own small mansion, you've got personal security."
"Da, but this is not my
home