The Laboratory: GenCore.

[Rueyn]

The Laboratory.

Many had speculated, but no one ever could know for sure what the huge mansion - bigger than The White House - was for. Settled half-way between Springfield and Branson, Missouri, the place was less than suspicious. Conspiracy surrounded it, branching out to the idea that perhaps - if there were ever a nuclear issue that was, say, brought about by the third World War - that all the important people could be housed comfortably.

Penmore.

Some speculated that it was a military bunker, what with the special steel-reinforced concrete that's energy-efficient, and resistant to various forces of nature (notably tornadoes, in an area prone to them). But others believed that, perhaps, it had something (and everything) to do with the under-ground travel system, and onslaught of caves that had been bored and drilled out by man-made devices. Perhaps the underground city that was neither confirmed or denied - but did, in fact, exist - had needed a diversion to help keep it quiet. After all, even the big riggers who traveled through the complex underground with deliveries wouldn't talk about what they'd happened upon, or what they saw while on their trip.

It was in that city, deep in the underground of Missouri, that an underground laboratory conducted their most top secret of experiments. GenCore. Ran for, and funded, by the military itself. What the secret scientists prided themselves on was the ability to successfully splice genes; the combining of DNA, or the insertion of differing strains of DNA, into a human fetus to produce a brand new species. Of course, this species was many - considering the numerous tests and trials they ran, - hadn't been named, thus far, since you couldn't categorize a lump sum of different crosses into one. But they were very real, and very much kept under lock and key. No one left, no one got in. That included the specimens that were alive and well.

The First floor that was only accessible via underground, upon first entry - if you were dubbed qualified - and passed the retina scans and voice samplers, and had a card key - was nothing more than the office; the dorm rooms where the scientists who didn't leave for many reasons, slept, after and before their shifts. A huge granite desk was set dead space in the middle of the gray-on-black tiled floor and it was usual that the receptionist, Julie Anneson, was manning the phone and multiple computer screens. Of course, they had a front they kept up: they were a science lab, after all, and the need for genetically modified seeds was on the teeter-totter scale of being needed, and being loathed. Yet still, the supply and demand kept her busy. One could even assume she had no clue as to what was really happening beneath her station.

Nevertheless, each room that branched off of the main room, was equipped with a bed.. a desk.. and personal food storage. A small closet that could hold spare pairs of clothes, for those 'just incase' situations. Each had a bathroom, though each had dispensers in place instead of bars or bottles of soap. They had everything needed to sustain themselves for days on end, just in case of a lock-down.


At the very end of the quasi-office was the option of a stair well, or an elevator. Both required the same security clearance to pass: the retina scan, the voice recognition, and the swipe of a keycard. Upon all three of those, the system would recognize which floors should, or would be, accessible to an individual.. and thus, would disengage minor locking devices accordingly.


The first stop down, Second floor. It could have easily been confused with a family medicine facility. They had their front desk that dealt with the charts, incoming and out-going patients as written in by the medical scientists. Carpeted floors of dark blues, checkered with a near turquoise green to accompany the paler, off-white walls. There were two separate wings, however: one for human patients, and one for their own creations.

The human wing was equip with fashionable (as far as a doctor's room could be) with examination tables, and chairs for those who may accompany the patient. Glass jars full of swabs, tongue depressors, and gauze. Cabinets full of any tool that may be needed for any situation or scenario-- be it stitching a wound, or simply running lab work. There were eight rooms like this, seated with polished wooden doors and metallic doorknobs.

As far as the creations wing went.. well.. the floor was tiled with sterile white. The walls were half-tiled, and half-wallpapered with the same off-white wallpaper that made the human wing seem more fitting and suitable. There were rails outside of the doors, and each door was made of steel, and those doors could only be opened from the outside by means of the keycard the doctors were required to have, doubling as a nametag. Inside the rooms was the very same white-tile flooring, seated with a drain in the middle. The tables weren't padded, and in each of the eight rooms, the tables had different restraints to choose from -- to be used in case one of the experiments wasn't as willing as they would prefer. The cabinets were steel, as well, and housed a number of different tools, monitors, and your typical every-day doctor's necessities. Much like the ones in the human wing.

This was where the specimens were brought to be poked and prodded, and regarded.


Down again, you had the Third floor. (Same security functions.) The third floor resembled a jailhouse, to put it best, but were truly the living quarters of the specimens who were capable of being housed in a more suitable environment. The 'rooms' were personalized cells, held closed with steel doors and small viewing slots towards the top, and only openable by the scientists with the appropriate cards. This, obviously, meant that the specimens could not get out on their own accord.. There were no windows.. no carpet.. and no colored wallpaper. If anything, it looked more like scratch-proof vinyl.

The cots within were suited to the size and weight of the specimens; each were fitted with plain white sheets, a white hospital-esque blanket or two, and a simple cotton pillow.


These rooms were otherwise empty, unless you counted the specimen housed within. Except for one..


The next two stops - the Forth and Fifth floors - would deposit the scientists into an air-locked room. Lining the walls were blue lab coats of all sizes, and above them, boxes of rubber gloves. Face masks, shoe covers, and eye protectors. A step past this room was where the scientists passing through would be scanned - much like the full-body scanners the TSA had installed in airports.. only, not for metal or other potentially hazardous items. This scanner went as far as to get a basic reading of cell counts, and a reading of breathing, and whether or not there were any contaminates on the persons. Airborne pathogens, also included. Given the chance you passed, you'd have access to either of the only two floors that did indeed resemble a laboratory.

Most of the area consisted of large tables with multiple drawers, housing utensils and tubes. Atop the tables were various equipment ranging from microscopes, to incubators with hand-only holes leading to the insides of the darked out boxes. It was where the scientists performed their most secretive research, much like the kind that had led to the ground-breaking discovery and ability to thus create the specimens being housed on the third floor.

However, the fifth floor was much more complex. The large and vast area only lit dimly with fluorescent lighting; the dull hum from the electric circuits almost deafening at times. After all, there were numerous tubes and psuedo-wombs set up, with specimens growing inside in an unknown goop and goo that was mostly translucent in color. Each one required filtration, and the occasional shifting of the creature's position, not to mention the constant monitoring of vitals that were displayed in LCD form just beneath the glass. Rows upon rows of these pod-like machines took up the majority of the area, save for the tables placed here and there for the means of clipboards and chart resting, when one's hands were to be otherwise occupied.

No scientist could leave the floor without first entering a decontamination room, and again, passing through the scanner system.


Sixth floor, going down. One of the lesser secretive floors, the sixth floor housed the contents necessary to grow and nurture plant-life; Everything was situated in columns, and categorized by type; be it edible or non, modified or not. The lighting was harsh in some areas, and dim in others. And if one took the time to walk through each aisle that had been created by means of dividers and sectioners, it would have been apparent than GenCore was responsible for supplying most of the farmers of today with their crops. With a single seed, each cell was enhanced; it would double the put-out, double the size, and created it's own insecticides. That was where the public tended to have a problem with it, but, whilst being caught up in the unique ability to create new species, the laboratory put off the scientific research the FDA should have required to pass the seeds. Thus, who knew what the hell they were eating anymore? GenCore had given numerous press statements, as had the FDA -- the seeds were safe. The food was safe, as far as they were all concerned.

Probably the most stunning of this floor, however, wasn't the seed-baring plants that made millions per year.. but instead, the rather large and beautiful flower set off to the left-most portion of the floor. It was new; a never before seen species of flower that had been created right there, in the lab, beneath a microscope. It resembled an African Violet, though a hundred times larger, and spotted with black and yellow flecks throughout the eight, 26 inch petals, and down to the base of the bloom. Attempts to recreate the plant had failed multiple times, thus, it was regarded quite highly by the few scientists who preferred working with the creations that weren't at all able to fight back.


Seventh. The temperature on this floor was naturally warmer, given it's depth, though it was well ventilated by means shafts that lead up to the ground level. While ran by electricity, much like the rest of the laboratory, had the power went out.. the emergency generators would kick on and keep everything running normally at least for a good few months, if need be.

The floor itself wasn't partitioned into rooms at all; there were no columns or beams, or dividers put into place. No partial walls here and there, just a large open space. There were, however, two doors on the far wall that lead nowhere but to a cubby-like observation deck. Down below, on the actual padded floor (and by padded, think astro-turf), was where the specimens were pitted against each other (or certain scenarios) in order to put their reflex to the test. Reflex, speed, and agility. All things that the military was intrigued by, when it came to modifying human behavior-- or, in this case, not-so-human behavior.

Several cages lined the walls, the doors left open when not in use. It was where the awaiting specimens were kept whilst the scientists readied their data and monitors, and certain devices that they intended to deploy. Be it firearms, tear-gas, or certain other technologies that weren't quite well known just yet; regardless, the intention was to push the specimens to the limit to see just what they were capable of when a certain level of rage set in. The ones that didn't react properly were deemed failures, and scheduled for either re-testing, or extermination.

There were, strangely, different staging props that were collapsable and stacked just beneath the viewing room. They were complex in making, and took quite a little while to put into place. It all just depended on what scenario they intended on running the specimens through in any given particular session. Sometimes, on the clock, on this floor - and the sixth and eighth - you could feel the very structure of the building rumbling and shaking steadily.


Eighth floor.. one more to go..

It was on this floor that many of the scientists had taken it upon themselves to pass along the slur that it was a ward, and not a floor. It held one of the highest security clearances possible, and only the most experienced scientists were allowed, and given the advantage of having the minor locks disengaged so that they may enter from the elevator or stairs.

There was no carpet. There were no windows. There were no doors.. just concrete and walls that had bars meant to support shackles and chains. While kept clean, the cement was permanently stained with blood in nearly each of the small cube-shaped rooms. Many of the experiments that took on a rather heightened sense of self and too-intense, and un-trainable rage, were kept on this floor for hours on end until they were either sedated or deemed 'restricted.' Along with the un-trainable creations, were the ones who simply were not of sound mind; ones where something had went wrong during the process of being given life, and were left lacking.

By no means was it quiet, and not at all cool, despite the climate control options-- the floor below was just entirely too hot, and since heat raised, the would-be chilled concrete was a sickly warm, all the time. The air was feverish and thick with humidity; some could have said it was fear, and empaths would have certainly said it was plain and simple unease. Nobody liked the eighth floor, though they made their rounds, if only because it was their duty.


Ninth floor. The final floor of proverbial hell. This floor was the most hated, most foul, and most sorrowful floor of them all. Most of the scientists avoided this floor, and left it to the one they'd put in charge, incidently, one that they'd created.

The ninth floor was mainly set up to house the incinerator; the destroyer of all things that had gone wrong. The destroyer of evidence. The incinerator was akin to the kind you'd find in a mortician's workspace, sans the fact that it was large enough to deposit at least ten bodies at a time, if need be. The ash and smoke would find it's way through the vented smokestack, and be released into the air with the other pollutants that escaped so casually and discreetly.

There were cages, however; not nearly as many as on the other floors, and these were more archaic in structure. They were simple: thin, much like a chain-link fence, and only padlocked from the outside for easy access, for only one had the keys to go from one to the other as needed. Inside these cages were the sickly experiments; the ones who'd never stood a chance once being allowed to grow. The ones that were horribly disfigured by means of lacking body parts, or organs-- the ones that would never amount to anything successful, and wouldn't at all serve a purpose to the laboratory. And that wasn't mentioning the ones that strangely came down with an illness that was incurable, or preventable-- for these creatures, the specimens they were, were susceptible to the more rarer diseases; especially when something went wrong in the early stages, and went undetected. These specimens were left to rot and ultimately die in the cages, howling, yowling.. whimpering and making any noise they were possible of, given their defects. It was maddening.

Running through the middle of the floor were large steel tracks, much like those found in a subway; and running on those tracks, were numerous black cars linked together, with blacked out windows. Some with blinders, some without. The transit system was efficient, and only occasionally went above ground to pick up loads of supplies only to return to the laboratory's bowels.

The train cars, however, were pulled by a very sleek steam-powered engine that was manned by no one; a constant auto-pilot set in place by the technicians so that no one's identity would be risked by the arrival and departure of the train in the not-so-secretive places above ground. It was the one who had the task of loading and unloading the carts with whatever deliveries may have been scheduled for the day.. the same one that had the task of dragging the dead experiments to the incinerator after bagging them.

The ninth floor was hell. The scientists knew it, Aesis - the one - knew it.. and yet the laboratory still functioned normally, despite the despair taking place in it's bowels. No one suspected it, after all. From the top level, all was normal: all was well, all was fine, nothing was amiss.

No one got in, and no one ever really left.