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When The Sleeper Wakes Part 5: Revelations free porn video
WHEN THE SLEEPER WAKES
Part 05: Revelations
Copyright (c) 2002 by Kim EM
All rights reserved
"When the Sleeper Wakes" Created by Kim EM and Debra
Rachel
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This story is a work of fiction. Any resemblance
between this story and any actual person, living
or dead, is coincidental.
The story contains mature subject matter. It may contain
adult situations and/or language. If you're not old
enough to legally read this (and you know who you are),
then get out of here before it's too late. You've been
warned.
Permission is granted to archive or repost this story as
long as the text is unaltered, and my copyright and this
notice are included. Oh, and this permission is
conditional upon it's being available only on free sites.
No membership fee, "Adult Check", or other means of
extracting money from people are allowed.
Thanks to Michelle A. for the development of HuggleBugs'
backstory. You can find the original "official" version
of HuggleBugs' history and profiles of its members at
HuggleBugs.
HuggleBugs is a property owned by HuggleBugs, Ltd., and
its use is pursuant to license from HuggleBugs, Ltd.
HuggleBugs, Ltd's site is located at
HuggleBugs.
I'd love to hear from any readers with comments. Email
me at: Kim EM: [email protected]
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Chapter Five: REVELATIONS
I shook my head and retreated to the institutional green
chair. "No more tests until I get some idea what's
going on here. You've been poking and prodding and
running tests and I don't know a thing except you've
been mumbling about 'body suits' and 'hugglebugs' and
meaningless drivel like that."
Elle looked down at me, her arms folded, and appeared to
be deep in thought.
"Look," I said plaintively, "I don't want to be a Wendy
head, but so far I've been jerked from pillar to post,
told nothing, and I still don't even have a clue who I
am. And from the sound of it, I don't think you have a
clue, either."
She sighed and sank to the rolling stool opposite me.
"Okay. Look, yesterday you were found, naked and
unconscious, on an unused catwalk in one of the high
bays of the Vertical Assembly Building. With no idea
who you were or how you got there, NASA security was
called. They gained no clues from examining you, and
turned you over to the medicos. I have to apologize,"
she stated quietly, "that they didn't do that first, but
at the time everyone was running around like morons."
"And?"
"And the doctors couldn't find anything wrong with you,
except that you were out cold and they couldn't wake
you. That's when they called me in. While I was in
transit you started to come out of it, and the idiots
decided to put you under until I could be there for your
awakening. You crossed them up, though, by waking six
hours ahead of schedule."
I looked at her blankly. This was making less and less
sense, even though it was consistent with what I'd
overheard between her and the general.
She continued, "It really caused a flap when you turned
up at the security desk, tastefully attired in a bed
sheet. Even more so, when you professed having no
knowledge of your own identity, there was some real
panic."
"Why the panic? I can understand their concerns about
the security breach, but why should my condition panic
them? As it is, I should be the one panicked, turning
up under these circumstances with no idea who I am or
how I got here."
"That's true enough, and yet... You didn't panic.
Almost anyone I can think of would be a basket case in
your position."
I thought a bit, as she silently watched. "I don't
know. I've thought much the same, that I should be
panicking. And yet I don't seem to be reacting much at
all, which I most certainly don't understand."
"There's another factor. Your body..." She trailed off,
looking speculatively at me. Uncomfortable with the
long look, I stood and walked to the window, looking at
a nearby neighborhood of close-set houses, visible over
the omnipresent palm trees.
"My body?" I finally prompted.
"It's perfect."
"What?"
"I'm not talking about in the aesthetic sense, mind you.
You appear to be in your early to mid twenties, no
visible marks or scars, perfect teeth, seemingly perfect
health."
"That's a problem?"
"It's impossible."
"Impossible?"
"Growing up, people get scars. Childhood accidents,
mishaps, there are thousands of things that can happen.
The skin gets cut or abraded. Bones break. Burns
happen. Nobody, and I mean nobody, grows up with their
body in pristine condition. Plus, there's your teeth.
They are perfect. No cavities or plaque, no fillings.
That's not totally impossible, but it is exceedingly
rare. Your breasts, well, not to be indelicate, but
they are fairly large, and there's not a bit of sag or
stretch."
I turned from the window. "I guess I should feel
complemented, but I have the feeling there's another
shoe waiting to drop."
Your cholesterol, LDL and HDL, both are right smack
where they should be. Again, not impossible but worthy
of note. We did some tests and found that your arteries
don't contain any plaque."
"Is that bad?"
"No, but it's damned unusual. I've only seen that once
before, four years ago, and that person had something in
their blood that we've already determined isn't present
in yours."
"So..."
"So basically your body is in a condition that should be
impossible. There are no signs of, well, of anything.
That has the NASA doctors climbing the walls."
"I'm surprised I haven't been packed off to a research
laboratory some wheres."
She stood and returned to her computer. "They wanted
to. I had to overrule them. If there's nothing there
for them to find, keeping you as their research pet
isn't going to provide any answers."
"And this 'body suit' and 'hugglebugs' nonsense?"
She sighed. "It's not nonsense, unfortunately. There's
been a lot going on in the world in the last thirty
years. For some reason, God knows why, there's been an
explosion of the technology of form change."
"Form. Change."
"Yes. It's something the governments have done their
best to keep secret, both ours and every other
government. Imagine the chaos if everyone had the
ability to change their form at will. Wanted fugitives
would have the ability to vanish without a trace.
Duplicates of people ? both the famous and the everyday
? would abound. Imagine someone wants something someone
else has. They could change themselves into a duplicate
of the other person, dispose of the original, and then
take over their life."
"This has already happened?"
"Too many times for me to think about. We've been
working for years to keep it secret, but things leak out
from time to time. Nowadays any reports are mostly
confined to the supermarket tabloids, which nobody
believes anyway, and to a few corners of the Internet."
"The what?"
"It's a new medium of electronic communication. Don't
worry about it for now, you'll find out soon enough.
There are a few newsgroups and story sites online that
have fiction dealing with form change, larded with just
enough fact to keep our security people nervous."
"Umm..."
"Like I said, don't worry about it."
I returned to the chair and sank back, trying to digest
all this. "So. Form change is possible, and it
happens, and the government tries to keep it secret."
"That's about it. There's only one form that's been
released to the public, and that has some sharply
limited capabilities."
"Those 'body suits' you mentioned?"
No, those are still secret. There's been some
speculation in popular fiction, most notably a novel,
"ManFac", by Martin Caidin. There's a lot of proscribed
technology out there. Plus, and this is the thing that
REALLY scares the higher-ups, there's a lot of
techniques that are best described as 'magic'."
"Magic? Really, now."
"No, seriously. Oh, I doubt it really is magic, though
I try to keep an open mind. My personal speculation is
that some of these use a technology that we just haven't
been able to identify."
"What things are we talking about?"
"Well, for instance, there's stories about a medallion
that changes anyone who touches it into the image of the
last person whose clothing it came in contact with.
It's supposedly magical, but it's more likely some
technology that picks up on the DNA of the clothing's
wearer and forces a change to the victim's DNA."
"Wow."
"There's also uncorroborated stories about a mysterious
'shop' that appears and disappears in various shopping
malls, changing unsuspecting shoppers into other forms.
We've tried for years to track down the source of that
legend, but so far without success."
"And the 'hugglebugs" you mentioned before?"
She sat back, smiling, cupping her hands on one knee.
"Ahhh. Now that's the one publicly known and available
technology. Remember the DNA gathering and implanting
possibility I mentioned?"
I nodded, wondering where this was going.
"Do you know what Nanotech is?" I shook my head.
"Nanites?" Again I demurred. "Nanites are very tiny
machines, almost built to a microscopic level. There
are a number of commercial uses, but only one has been
permitted for biomedical use."
"Which is?"
"There's a company, called HuggleBugs, Ltd., which
manufactures and sells to the public nanites designed to
cause form change."
"Why? If form change is so dangerous, then why allow
this form?"
She colored slightly, then went on. "It was kind of an
accident."
"An accident. Right."
She sighed again, then started talking. "It all started
on a sheep farm in New Zealand. In the early Nineteen-
nineties, a livestock researcher named Prue Walker was
experimenting on increasing the productivity of a herd
by raising all the animals in the herd to championship
levels. Using a solely DNA-based approach there was
some promise of success, but no immediate
breakthroughs."
"Okay," I said. "I assume she stumbled onto a method of
changing human genes?"
"Something like that. There was an accident. I won't
go into the details, but it caused the transformation of
her assistant from a husky football-player type into a
somewhat petite woman."
"It changed a man into a woman? This form change can go
that far?"
"Oh, yes," she laughed ruefully. "In fact, that's one
of the primary markets for the HuggleBugs product.
After Rose's accident ? that's the assistant's new name,
by the way ? their emphasis shifted from animal to human
research. Their method, though, proved unpredictable,
and was irreversible, so they needed to find something
else."
"And that was these 'nanites'?"
"You've got it. They refocused from a purely DNA-based
transformation to a highly controllable and reversible
transformation with the nanites. They brought in a
couple of programming gurus to design the nanites and
then program and build a failsafe form of
transformation. It's a shame, too, because the nanites
have the potential to do far more than what the world's
governments will allow"
"So how did it get on the market if that kind is thing
is so dangerous to society?"
"Well, for obvious reasons we don't publicize the
restrictions on form-change technology. Since most
research into that sort of thing is done in either
universities, major corporations, or government
facilities, we don't have any problems keeping tabs on
the research and deflecting it away from anything that
would cause problems. The problem here was that the
research was done at a fairly remote sheep ranch on the
other side of the world, without publicity, and they had
brought their first product to market before any of the
governments twigged to what was going on."
"Ouch. So the genii was out of the bottle at that
point?"
"Precisely. We've been able to limit their product line
to two fairly narrow products. First is a nanite that
causes temporary changes; the other causes permanent
alterations. Both have some fairly elaborate code built
in that limits their usefulness for the kinds of things
we're trying to restrict. Even so, it's been a major
pain in the rear."
I thought a moment and rapidly figured out what she
wasn't telling me. "Your real concern, the government's
concern, is it's potential usefulness for espionage,
right? So when I appeared, looking like my body had no
history, you and the other intelligence people assumed I
was the product of one of these technologies."
"You're quite close to the mark."
"If it's true, if my body was created ?- or changed ? it
seems to me I wouldn't be much of a spy with no idea who
I am, who I work for, or what the bloody hell I'm
supposed to be spying on."
"I know. That's part of the mystery. Who are, or were,
you, how did you get into the VAB, and why?" She keyed
something into the computer, and within a few seconds it
shut itself off. "The only thing any of us have been
able to come to consensus on is that if has to do with
the upcoming Endeavour launch."
"Endeavour?"
"It's one of the space shuttles."
"Space shuttle?"
She sighed once again, something that seemed to be
becoming a frequent part of her repertoire. "I keep
forgetting how much you don't know." She stood and
gestured me to do likewise. "I'm going to have to get
you some reading material."
I laughed. "Stranger In a Strange Land."
She froze, raised one eyebrow, and asked, "How do you
know that title?"
"Stranger? Valentine Michael Smith and all that? I'm
not sure. I must have read it at some point, I expect.
Why?"
"It's something you may remember from before your memory
went away. It's a possible angle, at any rate."
I was dubious, but given everything that had been going
on, I wasn't prepared to dispute her. She took another
close look at me, then nodded towards the door. "I
think we're done here. Put your clothes back on; I
think it's time for us to move on."
"Where are we headed now?" I asked.
"Texas."
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To Be Continued....
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