Lauren woke up the next day. A dull pain coursed through her entire body. She groaned at the dryness in her throat and the too-bright light of the room.
"Back to the land of the living?" She turned her head to find Finch seated beside her, a small blanket covering his lap. She took in the sight of him in his crumpled suit, scratching the short beard he had grown in the past 24 hours.
"How long have you been in here?" She croaked. He stood up and grabbed the pitcher of water at her bedside. He poured a glass before sitting on the edge of her bed.
"Let's just say that I got to you right when your physician did." He helped her sit up in her bed as he scolded. "I don't know who I'm more mad at, Tab and Sanchez for going along with your lunacy or myself for not seeing it coming."
"Come on, Daniel. What's science without some lunacy?" she reasoned. "If you must blame someone, blame me, the crazy old woman who’s set in her ways.
"Oh, don't worry. There's plenty of blame for all parties," he said. "So I've got bad news and good news. Which do you want first?"
"Bad news." She answered as she shifted.
"Bad news is that we're not sure what happened during your cloning. Sanchez and Tabitha think it might be your body's defense against such a large dose of the nootropics but nothing concrete so far. They're still combing through everything for a real answer." He handed her the glass and waited for her to take a sip before continuing. "We're not sure if what happened will have any lasting effects on your mind as well. We hoped that the procedures could at least slow down your disease but now we're not sure."
She set down her glass, slowly taking in his words. "Okay. I hope after all of that, there's some good news."
He smiled. "Your MRIs and blood work have come back clean. That's partly why Sanchez's team can't figure out what went wrong. Also, the procedure doesn't seem to have aggravated your disease so once we check on the quality of your extract and make some adjustments to the drugs and equipment, we'll be able to do move on to more clones and extracts."
"Well-," Lauren started just as Tabitha crept into the hospital room and locked the door behind her. “I just did something bad.” She giggled as Lauren and Finch looked at her. “Sanchez’s techs just finished the final cleaning of Lauren’s extraction.”
“Final cleaning?” Lauren questioned. "What on Earth is that?"
“Sometimes, older extractions can be like old footage. It’ll cut out at odd times or literally be fuzzy and indistinguishable at moments, so we have techs who specialize in cleaning the older extractions. Think as it as light editing for your memories,” Tabitha explained. She took the in-room hologram projector from off the wall, her eyebrows furrowed. She pressed the buttons on its side and detached a small port from it. “We weren’t sure how clean your extraction was so we sent it in and I have the final copy.” She took a small memory device from her pocket and inserted in the port.
“Does Sanchez know that you have it?” Finch questioned, watching her work.
“Um, it depends on how you think about it. I didn’t necessarily tell her that I was taking it but if she honestly thought that this thing wouldn’t find its way into my possession, we should be concerned.” She fiercely tapped away on the device, finishing with a satisfied nod of her head. She mounted the projector back on the wall. “Why? Do you think that we should wait until the corporate money men show up before we watch it instead of doing it now?”
Finch shrugged. “Are we seriously going to start being overly cautious now? Start the projection."
She hit the light switch on the wall before taking the chair that Finch abandoned. The image buffered on the wall, projecting a young Isaac Finchner. He walked down a street with his head thrown back in laughing. "No need to resort to violence. We'll get there in a minute." The point of view swung to the left, revealing a young Margo, walking arm in arm with Lauren. "It's just up ahead! You're going to love it!"
Margo groaned. "The last time someone told me ‘you'll love it’ I ended up vomiting into a trash can at an amusement park. Pardon me if I'm skeptical, Ike."
Tabitha gasped. "I don't think I've ever seen any footage of them this young."
Finch opened his mouth to reply when the trio on the projection passed a familiar place. "Is that Miller's grocery? I barely have any pictures of that place before it got hit in the riots." He tilted his head as Lauren's view moved in time see the L-Train by Eighth pass by, glowing in its glory. "Lauren," he started. "How old is this memory?"
Lauren shushed him. "You didn't inherit your grandfather's love of surprises, do you?"
The footage blipped, skipping forward in time to show Ike in front of an old run down building. Most of the windows had either been boarded up or broken and the decrepit neon sign above it advertising the "Pins and Needles Tattoo Parlor" seemed a strong breeze away from falling to the street. Ike stood in front of the building and held his arms up. "What do you think?" He asked.
"I'm thinking about the last time I got a tetanus shot. This is a mess, Ike." Lauren quipped.
"Admittedly, yes, the outside is a dump but check out the inside." Ike reasoned as he pulled out a set of keys. He unlocked the door, a haze of dust greeting them. He waved to them. "Come on. This is the good part."
Another blip skipped them into the parlor. In the dark, Lauren could make out the faded crimson paint on the walls. The old black leather chairs barely held any stuffing, the soft material either exploding through the punctures of the chairs or scattered in various places of the room. A thick layer of dust covered the long cherry wood bar that separated the receptionist station from the rest of the room.
Ike leaned against the counter with his arms crossed. "The final appeal for legalizing extracts is today. With the testimonies from the trial patients and medical doctors, it's only a matter of time before the business goes straight, which means regulations, licenses, guidelines, taxes, the whole boring thing." He shuffled his feet on the dusty floor. "The more I think of it, the more I think about me opening up my own shop. A legitimate one, this time. With my medical degree and patents, I've already got my foot in the door on the legal side. I have the clientele, between past clients and word of mouth, not to mention that I've made a name for myself of running a clean shop. It'll be an uphill battle but it's possible."
"Is it really?" Margo asked. She analyzed the room as she listed off items. "I know that the extracts have been paying the bills so far but the new equipment, the shop itself, the licenses. Don't forget the cost of renovations because it'll take some serious money to get this up to code. Is that feasible?"
"A couple of local doctors have come to find me about what I've learned in the field and for some tips on helping hospitals switch from just saving the wax-brains to doing extractions themselves. As one of maybe seven extractors who have worked with hospitals before and the only with a medical degree to back up their knowledge, let's just say that they’re willing to pay me for my time. Quite generously, in fact." He replied, a sly expression spreading across his face.
"Really?" Margo questioned as she moved to his side. She took a seat on the counter, waving away the minor dust cloud around her. "Well, I guess the only question I have is do you have a name in mind?"
"Margo, I'm making a major life decision here. Names kind of flew over my head."
"The Think Tank." Lauren offered. “Simple, easy to remember and a little corny, just like Ike here."
Ike rested his head on his young wife's shoulder. "The Think Tank. I like it."
Lauren's projection sputtered, images of the past shop intercutting themselves with the night she walked into the shop again that night months ago. It finally settled on Ike's and Margo contented faces in the hazy room.
"The Think Tank."
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