Lizette picked Emmett up from the hospital the morning after the procedure. The pain wasn’t too bad: a
sore throat, some tenderness at the back of his hip. It smarted as she helped him up into the SUV, soda
bottles and fast-food trash crunching under his feet.
The real damage was de eper down, a trauma that only distance from this place could heal. Why had no
one told him it was going to be like that? Why hadn’t they stopped when they realized he was awake? His
hands shook as they fumbled for the seat belt.
Terms like medical malpractice and punitive damages came to mind in Abby’s voice. No doubt he’d have
a case. Yet the thought of going to court made him uneasy. Why would anyone trust his testimony, when
he wasn’t even sure what had happened himself?
When Emmett had awoken from the procedure, he had found himself in an unfamiliar room. His head
was woozy, his pain big and slippery. The sun’s position through the tinted window told him it was
afternoon.
The nurse from before came in, grabbed a clipboard off the back of the door, and checked the readings on
a be eping machine. “You’re awake.” “What—what’s happening?” Emmett’s voice was a rasp, his throat
shredded.
“Procedure’s over,” the nurse chirped. “Everything went good. We’re gonna ke ep you overnight just to
be safe.” “Lizette. I need to—” “I just spoke with her. She’s gonna get you tomorrow. She was worried
about you. You have a good friend there.” A smile sparkled at the corner of her eye.
Who was this woman? She seemed a mile apart from the one he’d met in the waiting room that morning,
the one who sped him through pre-op checks.
“Why didn’t you tell me what was going to happen?” “Happen?” She lowered her clipboard. “No one
told me anything.” “Mmmm.” She furrowed her brow, sympathetic but sk eptical. “You don’t remember?
We talked before the procedure. I took you through it st ep by st ep: the bone marrow extraction, collecting
the stem cells—”
“Shoving a feeding tube down my throat?” “Remember I said we needed to ke ep formula flowing
through your GI to counteract the nutrient d epletion from the Ema C-8?” Emmett didn’t remember any of
that.
“Must’ve forgot,” the nurse said. “I don’t blame you. That general anesthetic is no joke.” “What
anesthetic? I was awake the whole time.” She hiccupped with accidental laughter, then swallowed it
down. “Sorry. But no. We’d never do a bone marrow harvest without a general anesthetic.”
“It didn’t work. The anesthesiologist, she said—” “She? Your anesthesiologist was Dr. Agarwal. Jason
Agarwal.” But Emmett could see her clearly: tall, dark-skinned, cheekbones sharp as razor blades. Had
he imagined her? Imagined all of it?
“Don’t stress,” the nurse said. “Probably just a nightmare. If you like, I can try to get your friend on the
phone? Might be nice to hear a familiar voice.” Emmett decided he wanted to speak to Lizette more than
he wanted to argue.
“Please.” The nurse was right. Lizette’s voice was a salve on the rash of his anxiety. “How’re you
feeling?” He was tempted to unload. If anyone would believe him, she would. But something held him
back. The nurse’s version of events had planted a seed of doubt in his mind; he could feel it unfurling,
wrapping its tendrils around his memories and twisting.
It was for this reason that, even as they pulled out onto the road, and the oppressive influence of the
hospital receded into the distance, Emmett still didn’t say a word. If he mentioned his strange,
nightmarish memory of the procedure, she wouldn’t be able to let it go. She’d insist the nurse was lying,
forbid him from moving forward with the trial, maybe even contact his family if he put up a fight. He
couldn’t let them interfere. He’d waited his whole life for an opportunity like this. He had too much at
stake to let it slip away.
“So what happens now?” Lizette said, merging onto the freeway. “Are you supposed to start dropping
weight right away?” This he remembered: it would take two to four weeks for his new stem cells to start
growing. “Plus, it doesn’t really work without the injections,” he said.
He had an appointment scheduled at the Cronus Health office the following week to receive his first dose
of Ema C-8. After that he’d have to schl ep down to Chula Vista weekly for check-ins, at least to start.
In the meantime Monstera had asked him to ke ep a health journal via their online participant portal. This
part of the process he looked forward to, acc epting it as a personal challenge. He couldn’t pour his heart
out on his blog, but he’d write the best damn health journal Dr. Saito had ever seen.
Appendix G—Health Journal
PARTICIPANT DETAILS TRIAL ID: OBXII202305 PARTICIPANT NO: 82941 DOB: 12/8/94 SEX:
M HT: 5'11" START WT: 323 LBS Date of Entry 5/12/23 Current Weight (lbs.) 324 Lost to Date
Calculated BMI BMI Category -1 Lbs.
45.2 Morbidly Obese Please describe your physical, mental, and emotional state as pertains to this
clinical trial. Hi—my name’s Emmett. Not participant number 82941. Because I am a human boy, not a
robot. Be ep be ep boop.
Lol j/k. (You’re already regretting letting me do this trial, aren’t you? XD) Okay, so it’s been a few days
since the gene therapy procedure, which I just have to say—what the fuck. I was... “not pr epared” might
be the understatement of the century. Perhaps “totally blindsided” is closer to the mark? I probably
missed the detailed rundown of what was going to happen in that mountain of paperwork you sent me, so
I’ll forgive you this time. But when you start charging people $200–300 K for the pleasure, maybe you
should make sure they know what they’re getting into??? ̄\_(: D)_/ ̄ Jokes aside, I’m actually not feeling
great. In addition to dealing with the—trauma feels like too strong of a word.
How about *emotional and psychological aftereffects*?— of the procedure, I felt pretty weak and
nauseous after leaving the hospital. I couldn’t bring myself to eat for a whole 36 hrs. Crazy, right!?! Lol
sob.
Yesterday was better—I’m feeling good and eating pretty normally. But now that my body’s past the
initial shock of it, my mind’s starting to catch up and it’s freaking out a little bit. Honestly? I’m feeling
kind of scared. Obviously I haven’t lost any weight yet—in fact, I’ve GAINED a pound, as your
automatic calculator so helpfully pointed out to me (NEGATIVE pounds lost?! Is that REALLY
necessary?!?).
And even though the nurse said I shouldn’t expect to see any results for a couple of weeks, I can’t help
but feel hopeless. I’m sure your product’s great and all, but you have to understand how many different
pills, potions, and diets I’ve tried to lose weight. None of them have worked and now I’m doing this
trial—probably my most drastic attempt yet—and part of me is just kind of d epressed about it.
Like, why do I have to be this way? Why’s it so hard for me to control my weight like everyone else, to
just do the things I KNOW I’m supposed to do, like eat less and exercise more? When’s the last time I
even went to the gym??
Ugh, I should go to the gym.
Of course I’m going to give the trial more time—at this point I don’t have a choice—but no, my
“emotional state as pertains to this clinical trial” isn’t great. As of day four, it feels pretty unlikely that
this trial will work out any better than my previous attempts to slim down. In a month, six months, a year,
I’m probably going to be even bigger and more hopeless than I am now. Begging you to prove me
wrong:’<(