Day 3-Color choices

The third packet lay on the table in front of you, though this type the device was not so draconian as it was insidious. Gone were the ten sewing needles, replaced by 3 needles long enough to puncture concrete pillars. The feeling of not seeing the device was decimated by the realization that the 3 needles were to be injected into your spine, right where they do lumbar punctures and draw out spinal fluid. You were sure that you had pissed someone off in the medical department, despite all reassurances to the contrary.

Yeah, fuck them all.

Still, you were left with the unenvied choice of jabbing that sucker into your body and thus you were grateful that Monica, having given you an apologetic look, had helped you lay on your stomach in the living room of the suite and then placed the two different colored vials in front of you. Each was labeled, again, with a specific color and scanner tag, though you noticed that they also gave you a peculiar looking third vial. It was very strange to see, especially since you had some time to really wonder why the sudden change on Day 3.

The first, marked Orange O-1, was from the neurological division that was often at the cutting edge of neuroscience and dealt with extensive brain and spinal cord functions. It was really cutting edge stuff that had paid dividends for the company in their fight to get three new dementia **** to market. Two had ended in disappointing Phase 2 trials while the third was still trapped in a research phase for increased human trials. You were always glad to pitch in when they came to you for help. Figured the bastards would do this to you.

No good deed goes unpunished, eh?

The second, marked Pink P-1, was from the Genetics Division. It was peculiar that they had sent one testing regime to you, considering the earlier application had done similar things (or you suspected, though without proof, that there was some sort of competition between the two groups) You weren't too sure what this would do, other than it would cause your semen to do something on a genetic level.

The third vial, though, caused you a bit of trouble deciphering what exactly it was. All it was labeled was Black B-1, from your lab. It was, in effect, one of Samantha's black projects.

Monica looked at the three before she turned and glanced at you. "Which one, baby?"