flexible-biology
SCIENCE FICTION FANTASY

Flexible Biology

Flexible Biology

by jammer5121
20 min read
4.77 (11300 views)
adultfiction

Hello hello. I'll keep this brief, since you're probably not here to read "from the author notes". However, given that this is the longest piece of writing I've ever successfully completed, I decided I wanted a forward. This story is the result of a ton of time and effort (and no small amount of excellent editing feedback from users uncajerf and Jujuma), yet the end result is something I have gone back and forth on with myself for over a year now. I'm worried it's too long. I'm worried it's too dull. I'm worried it sounds unnatural. Basically I'm worried it's not ready. But I figured I've done about as much as I can at this point so let's just post it and move on. If you do decide to read it, I'd love to know what you think.

Jammer

**************

Upon preliminary inspection, the species, which I have named Chimera, does not appear particularly noteworthy. One is most likely to encounter the parasite shortly after hatching but prior to implantation. During this state of its lifecycle it appears as a small, gray colored worm approximately the length of a fingernail. The most distinctive aspect of the creature is how it integrates with its host species. Chimera ingests neural tissue for sustenance, and in every other known example of this behavior the result is the swift and gruesome death of the host. With Chimera, however, the manner of ingestion does not appear lethal to the host. In most cases, it doesn't even appear to be noticeably detrimental to the host, at least from the perspective of maintaining stable biological functions. As the parasite develops, it gradually replaces the cells it consumes with a replication of the host material. This new "pseudo tissue" is grown from the parasite's own body and works remarkably well as a substitute for connective pathways. The duplication is so precise that it can mimic many of the primary functions of the host tissue. While changes to a host's behavior can vary, and grow more significant with time, Chimera appears to prioritize keeping its host alive and functional. This makes sense given the significance of the host in the parasite's reproductive cycle.

Aryna stopped typing and lifted a hand to brush back a strand of dark hair that had fallen over her eyes. She re-read the abstract of her report. This was, without a doubt, the single most significant discovery of her scientific career, so she really wanted to avoid any typos. She thought it looked good.

It was only a couple months after landing on this otherwise unassuming planet, that she'd first identified the creature. Once the significance of the discovery became clear, it quickly became the focus of her research over the following two years. This report would be the culmination of that effort, and it very well may alter the course of the rest of her career - hell, her entire

life

.

Unfortunately, she would have to wait. In fact, she'd have to wait quite a while. It'd be nearly another ten months before the faintest ripple of what she'd found made it back to anyone who cared; that was the reality of being on the frontier of human exploration.

Thanks to long range astronomical scans, humanity had known for centuries about the world Aryna now called home. However, it was only recently that the survey teams had ventured far enough into the void to land on it - thus, her presence. One Fully Independent human operator, one completely self-contained scientific research station, and three years in an unexplored biosphere to poke, prod, and discover as much as she was able about how this alien ecosystem functioned. Her goal was to give the Settler Vanguard a knowledge base to work from. The hope was that having a detailed record of the life on this planet would mean the colonists wouldn't stumble blindly into a threat they were unprepared for. There were too many examples from humanity's early attempts at colonizing alien planets that showed what devastation could be wrought by ignorance.

First Contact Biologist wasn't bad work. The pay was good, and it was always interesting, but there weren't many who sought it out as a career. The level of training required combined with the long stays on undeveloped worlds made other professions more appealing for most of Aryna's peers. For all those reasons and others, she'd been surprised to discover how much she loved it. There was something about standing on the surface of a world that no other human had ever seen with the naked eye. With just her tools and her mind she pried open the secrets of this place and laid the foundation for humanity's continued growth. It felt significant.

Aryna originally planned on only undertaking a single First Contact mission to build experience and money. A decade later this was her third such mission, and each had felt more fascinating than the last. Isolation was the only true struggle. Without a form of FTL transportation, she was cut off from the rest of humanity until her pickup. Right now, the survey team that had brought her here was in the middle of their three-year loop through the local star systems. They would be dropping off and picking up other research personnel in stations just like this one before finally swinging back around to collect her.

Having done this twice before, Aryna thought she'd had a good idea of what to expect. It was fascinating to discover how different species developed in varying environments, but most people were surprised to learn how often the same types of features would appear despite the light years separating Earth and her missions. It made sense when you knew that more than a thousand years ago, the theory of convergent evolution had been proposed to explain how similar traits could evolve in seemingly unrelated species.

The idea was that life often needed to solve similar problems (movement, energy, sensory input, etc.), and so evolution arrived at similar solutions. Once humanity began finding, and then studying different forms of alien life, it turned out the theory didn't just apply to organisms that evolved on the same planet. If an alien world had life and an atmosphere, Aryna expected to find lungs. If the local star was close enough to illuminate the planet's surface, then she expected most creatures to have eyes. While these biological structures may not be precisely like those found on Earth, the wild imaginings of early sci-fi that proposed sentient clouds of gas or hyper-intelligent beings of pure light had given way to the comparatively more mundane realities of interstellar biology based on many of the same principles seen on her homeworld.

Chimera, however, was something truly unique.

The degree of parasitism exhibited in this specimen was far beyond anything Aryna had ever imagined she'd discover. Of all the biospheres throughout explored space, this creature appeared to be something special. Its capabilities derived from the astounding adaptability of its genetics. Chimera seemed to possess the ability to rapidly rewrite its own DNA in order to integrate with any manner of host it happened upon.

Aryna had yet to find a species on this planet that wasn't susceptible to it; anything with sufficient biomass, approximately ten times the size of Chimera itself, appeared vulnerable to serve as a host. Very few other species had any defenses against infection. The majority of potential hosts Aryna had studied seemed to focus their defensive behaviors exclusively on avoiding infection, because there didn't seem to be anything they could do once infected.

But these were things to consider another day. It was already late, and she needed a break.

Powering down her workstation, Aryna caught a brief glimpse of herself in the reflection of the now dormant screen. She looked... well she looked like she'd been alone on an alien planet for a couple years. Her eyes were tired. Her hair, though she kept it tied back, was long and messy. Her dark skin was... actually, her skin looked pretty good. A daily wash and moisturizing was one of her simple joys. Still, she looked utilitarian, if anything, and that didn't make her feel particularly proud of her appearance.

Sighing, she stood up and stretched, rolling her shoulders so that a little of the tension left her lean muscles - but only a little. She stuck diligently to the rigorous exercise routine required by those in her profession. That meant a few hours at a desk didn't truly tax her body. The source of her tension was more fundamental and, in her situation, harder to relieve. She felt it in the restless way she unconsciously fidgeted when sitting still. She felt it as a perpetual tightness somewhere deep in her core. Mostly she felt it in the way her mind would often drift away from work to more pleasant, and far less professional, lines of thinking. It was something she was going to have to take care of.

Walking to the biolab's pressure hatch she palmed the access panel, and the door

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whooshed

open to reveal a short blonde woman standing virtually in the standard green technician's jumpsuit. She was scrutinizing a data tablet, and had clearly been waiting for Aryna to finish her work in the biolab.

Aryna smiled, "Good evening, Eighteen-thirty-four. Have something to report?"

The other woman looked up from her datapad but did not return Aryna's smile. To someone unaware, 1834 would probably have passed as human, at least for a few minutes.

"Yes, ma'am," 1834 replied. "We had a small pressure leak on Deck Two by the medical wing. One of the seals developed a pinprick hole. Probably just wear from the storms we've had recently. Since we aren't in orbit, it wasn't really an issue, but I replaced it to be on the safe side."

Eighteen-thirty-four had a compact and efficient figure. In many ways her form reflected the needs of her position. Since station technicians were responsible for keeping everything in working order, they had to be able to both fit into cramped places and work with heavy loads. A short, strong body was perfect for that job. Despite the lack of significant endowments, Aryna found her eyes lingering (as they usually did) on the subtle curves evident beneath the uniform.

"Thanks for that, Eighteen-thirty-four." Aryna started down the hallway towards the mess hall. "Make sure everything is in your report for Eighteen-thirty-five tonight."

"Already done, ma'am. Just wanted to let you know before heading over to Recycling."

"I appreciate it, Eighteen-thirty-four," Aryna replied. After a short pause, she added, "And hey, I'm about to grab something to eat if you wanted to... join me?"

Technically, 1834

could

eat, but it wasn't common for her kind.

"I appreciate that, ma'am, but The Protocol is becoming insistent." 1834 tapped her head and gave a small, rather unconvincing smile. "Just wanted to give you that report. Enjoy your dinner, though."

With that, the woman turned and walked down a side corridor towards the recyclers. Watching her go, Arnya felt a prick of loneliness that had sharpened to quite the point over the last two years. Sighing, she continued towards the mess hall.

As the only fully independent human being for dozens of light years in any direction, she missed having conversations that weren't directly task-related. While 1834 was unquestionably capable, an intellectually stimulating discussion wasn't something the technician could provide. This was due, in part, to the fact that in a little under half an hour the cellular and biological components that made up the Semi-Independent Human Construct known as 1834 would be broken down and recycled into a nearly identical version of the woman. That "person", who will be called 1835, will wake up tomorrow to resume the tedious routine of maintaining the research station. During this mission, there had been 833 previous versions of the Type 1 Technician Construct- thus, Type 1 Version 834, shortened to 1834. The name was not creative.

There were lots of opinions on Human Constructs (often shortened to HCs or just Constructs), but in Aryna's line of work one couldn't really think of them as people. Although they are created from human cells, even have human brains, they are not capable of independent thought or actions beyond those directly associated with their responsibilities. HCs are more like organic machines. While grown from cells instead of being built from parts, and thus appearing nearly indistinguishable from humans, Constructs are, nonetheless, only tools. Eighteen-thirty-four's brain - just like the brains of all her predecessors - was based on a scan of a technician back in the colonies who'd been trained specifically to maintain this class of research station. The tech's knowledge included all the minutiae involved with carrying out routine maintenance, troubleshooting problems, and performing virtually any necessary repairs. Everything else from the mind of the original person that wasn't required for those tasks - memory, personality, empathy - had been stripped away.

There was one major caveat with the Construct system. Given time, HCs could develop their own personalities. This was a problem since a free thinking Construct may decide it doesn't want to follow the commands it is given. Unfortunately, all the tinkering that the Construct designers had done with the brain hadn't yet revealed a way to prevent this eventuality while also leaving the HCs sufficiently functional. Hence, The Protocol: Constructs lived for a little less than 24 hours before being recycled and recreated, effectively resetting their minds every day. Near the end of their lifespans, an overwhelming compulsion to return to the Recyclers began to take over their psyche, eventually becoming irresistible.

In any case, the use of HCs has proven to be the simplest, cheapest, most effective method of carrying out the majority of basic human tasks, and especially the most dangerous ones - like those on alien planets.

They didn't help much with the isolation, though. HCs were not conversationalists, nor did they express a lot in the way of emotion, opinions, desires, or anything not directly related to their work. They were tools, and that was how they saw themselves. Still, Aryna had liked 1834, in that irrational way that human beings came to like things that could not reciprocate their affection.

Aryna had made a discovery that could assuage the loneliness a little, but she wanted to get something to eat first.

-----------------------

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With a full stomach, and feeling significantly more relaxed, Aryna left the mess hall and made her way to the research station's HC Growth Chamber. A trick she'd learned late in her original stint as a First Contact Biologist had proven a lifeline when the long days and silent nights had threatened to become too much. As the only fully independent human on board, she was allowed near absolute control over its systems. The computer would warn her if its algorithms determined that whatever she was about to attempt would be dangerous, but with very few exceptions, it would not prevent her from doing it. This included allowing her access to the HC growth controls.

There were perfectly sanctioned reasons for her to personally request a Construct be created. Many tasks were easier with an HC to help, and she needed to be able to operate in situations that the station's limited programming was not prepared for. Ever since The Bloodless War, no human tech contained any true A.I., so it was up to the human operators to think dynamically about the needs of the mission. Aryna reasoned that, sometimes, her personal needs

were

the needs of the mission.

Letting the access panel on the door scan her palm, Aryna entered the HC Growth Control Room. It was a large, circular space with a dozen cylindrical glass chambers each about three feet wide. These chambers grew Constructs to the specifications dictated by the station, and they did so quickly. If needed, the facility could produce two dozen an hour, so long as it had the resources. For now, Aryna just needed one.

Stepping to the interface console, Aryna called up the HC Creation Window and loaded her saved user profile. Several basic HC profiles existed, ranging from the most common Type 1 Technicians and Type 2 Janitorial Constructs, to less used Type 8 Medical and Type 9 Research Assistants. Aryna's custom profile had been based on the Type 9, but with several personal modifications.

The Type 9s were theoretically very useful. They were the most intelligent and adaptable Constructs, intended to help, as might be presumed, with day-to-day tasks in the science labs. In practice though, she felt they still required too much of her attention to be much of a time saver for her; she mostly worked alone.

Initiating the growth sequence, she stepped back and watched as one of the twelve construct chambers began to fill with nutrient solution. The display indicated that Construct 9252 would be finished growing in a little over 31 minutes, though it would take a bit longer for the newly created HC to be fully accustomed to operating outside of her technological womb. Pleased with herself and with growing anticipation, Aryna left the equipment to do its work and returned to her personal quarters.

-----------------------

An hour later, Aryna felt much better, having taken the time to leisurely clean up. A long, hot shower left her feeling refreshed and energized, and she lay on her bed dressed in a comfortable robe sipping some wine. This was a new vintage she hadn't tried before from the station's synthesizer catalog. The description assured her it was very good, but she'd never really been the best with wine. Despite that, the drink felt appropriate tonight. It was a night for indulgences. She was looking over some data from a few in-progress experiments when a notification alert

beeped

from her door.

"Enter", she called, setting her tablet and wine on a bedside table.

The door opened and a tall, fit woman in the standard gray research station jumpsuit stepped in. She stopped just inside the door and said, "Good evening, ma'am Ninety-two-fifty-two reporting. How can I help you today?" She spoke in the even, professional tone that all Constructs used.

Aryna stood up and approached 9252. The "woman" had cream colored skin and a shock of still damp red curls that complimented her smattering of freckles. The Construct's appearance was customized per Aryna's uploaded profile, and her creator appreciated being able to add personal touches. In fact, she'd modified the appearance of all basic Constructs to be more in line with her... preferences. She figured it made no functional difference to their operation, so why not make them a touch more pleasant to look at? It was the same reason she had altered the programming in the system that assigned clothing to the HCs so they all received jumpsuits that were, technically, one size too small for them. The fabric of the jumpsuits stretched in truly lovely ways across their bodies.

Gods, she was feeling horny tonight.

"Ninety-two-fifty-two," she said, "I'm providing you with a new designation. From now on please respond to 'Kim'."

"Yes, ma'am," the Construct responded dutifully. "I am Kim."

"Thank you, Kim. Tonight, you're going to assist me with an experiment on methods for mitigating the negative psychological effects of human isolation. The sample size for this study is one. Please refrain from commenting on any inconsistencies you observe in the scientific methodology. You may include them in your final report to me if you wish. Do you understand?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Good girl," Aryna said softly, then slightly louder, "Now take off the jumpsuit and follow me."

"Yes, ma'am," Kim repeated in the same even tone.

Aryna turned back toward the bed and, with one hand, pulled free the tie at her robe's waist. A shrug of her shoulders let the garment fall to the floor. Her skin prickled for a moment, but the bedroom was warm and she was still quite comfortable even when naked.

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