WARNING: This chapter contains description of blood and act of cruelty. Viewers discretion is advised.

The chilly surrounding air, the dull, chalky colour covering each wall, and the bright-lit fluorescent light on the ceiling filled up the scene. The sound of machinery hummed like whispers in the background. Everything was discreetly prudent yet eerie.

A woman stood at the corner. A knee-length white coat draped over her frame. She was almost invisible, blending in the surrounding if not for her brown, neatly done bun hair. The oval stud glasses sitting atop her nose bridge glistened when light reflected on it.

In a dexterous move, she slipped her hand into a thin rubber glove, one after the other. Subsequent to the routine, she turned motionless, devoured by her indistinct thoughts.

Eyes locked on the counter digital clock, she waited for time to shift. As if on queue, the sliding door behind her glided open right before the stroke of 7. She swivelled almost hastily. A wave of excitement plundered in, tackling a curve to form on her lips.

Two lab assistant entered, pushing a stretcher into the room. On it laid an adolescence, seemingly lifeless.

"Good morning," one of the assistants began, catching sight of the name tag clipped on her assigned superior's coat. "Dr Braile," she finished with a deep look.

Hearing the low deep voice, Dr Braile's turned slightly. Just enough to have a glimpse of where the peculiar sound originated. "Morning. You must be new," she replied.

"Yes, I just started yesterday. I'm Thalaa."

Introduction wasn't something Dr.Braile took for favours, but since the new trans looked rather charming, she mustered a nod of acknowledgement.

Trans was what —these human males look-alike— was called. The programme was introduced two years ago in sanction for the previous sex reassignment procedure.

Protesters finally won after countless fights in court. They were demanding rights on how to represent themselves. It was triggered after fractions of male images blew up on the internet a few years back. More of the past was inevitable to arise along with the recovery of technology.

The higher court granted their appeal considering it was for appearance, as appearance was something everyone should have the freedom upon.

Moreover, they were a more stable resemblance of men compared to the pods. At least that was what everyone believed.

From the corner of her eyes, she looked at Thalaa, astonished by her amazing transformation. A fine cut stubble was already growing on the side of her face, and her chest was broad and firm; possibly, she had done a mastectomy by the looks of it.

After the brief pondering, Dr Braile shifted her attention towards the being now lying centred in the room. She studied the man-looking subject momentarily; decent height, bony but all body parts appeared to be present, lesions were covering his skin. A harsh wound was visible on the side of his shoulder.

The layer of cloth covering its lower part was removed by the other assistant, likely knowing the procedure. Dr Braile held up its shaft, examining its testicles. The reproductive organ was their biggest aim for a breakthrough.

"Cicy, get the cooler ready," Dr Braile instructed.

With a simple nod, Cicy paced to the back and seconds later came back with Dr Braile's requested apparatus. Their procedure looked likely strange to Thalaa. Although, this was her first time watching the sperm extraction process live.

When Dr Braile subsequently brought forward her scalpel to the subject's testicles, Thalaa grasped her hand. The unwanted respite earned her a grunt of contempt.

"I thought we are doing a TESE," Thalaa said calmly. She bent her head, somewhat nervous by Dr Braile's sudden scorn expression.

"That. Is. Unnecessary," Dr Braile said with gritted teeth. One of the things she despised most was an interruption of her work. Yet thinking the assistant was new, she tried to restrain her temper.

"But it's alive," Thalaa stated, willing herself for sympathy even though she never conceded pod men as human before. She looked over at the laying being; its chest was still moving up and down, validating its life.

"It is a plant! Do you give anesthetic to a vegetable?" the doctor raged.

Thalaa glanced at her colleague, Cicy, who was giving her a look of disappointment. She bit her lip and put her hands to her back. The very little bravery she had not more than a minute ago instantly replaced with worry.

"Take her out of my sight! The management has the audacity of sending untrained personnel to me," Dr Braile spat out.

"No!" Thalaa suddenly dared to disagree. She knew if she were to walked out, everything she had worked for would be in vain. "I mean, give me a chance. I assure you, I won't repeat this mistake," she said with confidence.

When the doctor's eyes met hers, she put on a smile. With it, a hint of red appeared on the doctor's cheeks. One thing Thalaa possessed was good looks. It also brought her this far, cutting many lines along her way.

The doctor pulled her eyes away somewhat reluctantly, confused with what was happening to her. Her anger didn't diminish, but somehow she felt fair to give the new assistant another chance.

"Fine," she replied coldly.

Setting the issue aside, Dr Braile heeded back to her work. On the first incision, the subject writhed. It was customary to her after much similar situation. But from the corner of her eyes, she noticed the colour on Thalaa's face draining.

"It's an intrinsic thigmotropism. It can't feel pain," she explained.

However, Thalaa wasn't listening; it was like her brain had shut sound from her awareness. Her eyes were stuck on the blood running out from the pod man's skin before it stirred to its face. Its eyes and mouth were unscrewed, a strain put on its expression for what felt like forever to her before it completely went numb.

The last of its breath, as its chest stopped palpating, accompanied with a single drop of tear rolling down its eye.

Another hour was forcibly spent by Thalaa watching what looked like an autopsy. The dead pod man was cut open with no such difference than a lab rat. Every possible organ that could be used for transplant was taken, and its remains were put into a plastic bag like no more than trash.

"Take it to be disposed of," Dr Braile instructed.

To be continued...

***

Thank you for reading, I'm sorry if this episode makes anyone uneasy, but it is a necessary part of the story to progress.

What do you think of Dr Braile?

Oh ya, on the banner is the photo of Thalaa.