"The great thing about stem cells is that you can make them into whatever you want, if you're just specific enough." Jurgen had never adopted the formality that came with all of his accumulated medical knowledge; there was even rumors that, despite the diplomas on display at his office, he was predominantly self-taught. But his demeanor (and successes) made him a perfect fit for the clientele of Los Angeles; his Norweigan accent made him even more charming.
Ralph Herrington was immune to those charms. But the surgeon came highly regarded for his skill, discretion, and love of a challenge. And so, he put the palm-sized plastic case on Jurgen's desk. Inside the case was several locks of hair.
Jurgen raised an eyebrow. "Is this the item you mentioned?"
Ralph nodded. "Got it from her hairdresser; cut on the set of 'Don't Bother to Knock', one of her last films before she went blonde. He was a fruit, but even he knew a goddess when he saw one. Kept it in a tin box for a few years, before I got my hands on it; vacuum-sealed it right away. Got it tested, as soon as the technology was there..." He pushed the box, gently across the desk. "It's her."
Jurgen picked up the box, studying it. "That, right there... is priceless. You've seen what I've done for Jean so far, so you know what I can do. Now, I cannot guarantee we'll get what you want out of this. I can only guarantee that these locks will not survive."
Ralph looked over his shoulder; from his vantage point, he could see Jean reading a magazine. The sight transported him. "Y'know, Doctor - she kissed me once; 1956. I was an usher, working an Arthur Miller double-bill. She was there, she asked me about the play, wanted something smart to say to her husband. I told her what I thought, and she was happy with it. She kissed me. I never saw her again. I left New York the next year; never saw her again, either.
"Jean wants this as much as me; she's dedicated her life to it. We're deeply invested in this. You pull this off, she gets to be her. I get to feel those lips again. That's worth it."
***
Jean knocked on the door of Jurgen's lab. Jurgen answered the door with a bowl and whisk in hand. "Jean, so glad you're here! Your husband sent you to check on me?"
"He's still in Vancouver, but he says he won't take me on the Japan trip if I'm still in bandages! Let's do this already!"
Jurgen showed off the mixture drizzling from his wisk. "You see this? These are your new lips..." He directed her to a small oven, and a petrie dish within- "...and here."
Jean peered in. The petri dish was lined with a translucent gravy; in the center, it raised and separated in the shape of two pale, but unmistakable beestung lips. "Your husband's Christmas present is on schedule." Jurgen brushed the next coating of lipase on the lips, making them glisten. As he smoothed over a few trapped air bubbles, one popped, and the lips quivered.
Jurgen let out a sharp laugh, but he saw Jean's revulsion. "It's alright! These are like your breasts and your calves, and they will feel just as much a part of you when we're done." He traced Jean's mouth with a finger "You will be the most beautiful woman who ever walked the Earth."
***
Nine months later, there was a knock on Jurgen's door. "Dr Lund, I represent the Herrington estate. May I come in?"
Jurgen looked up at the monolith in the suit. "Is this about the funeral? I didn't know I was invited."
The monolith produced a tablet and began scanning through it. "One year ago, you came into possession of certain effects, for the completion of a surgical procedure-"
Jurgen walked to his couch, to make himself comfortable. "Yes, and as I told Mr Herrington, it was unlikely that anything would be recoverable. But it was done in the service of his request. Did he receive satisfactory results for his contribution?"
"Dr Lund, I'm not here about-"
"You were there with him, at the clinic that day, when we took the bandages off. Do you remember what he said, after he kissed her? I do have it on video..."
"He did say that he hadn't kissed those lips in over 60 years," the monolith demurred.
"-and he recognized them! His face was filled with delight! I'd say he was satisfied, sir. I imagine he had the best two weeks of his life. But you're not implicating me with anything after he left the clinic."
"No, my visit is about business you conducted after that point."
"Oh, I see..." Jurgen smirked. "Well, I admit that Jean's success inspired me. I created my Monroe mold over a decade ago, but I gained a new appreciation for its beauty. Apparently, I wasn't the only one."
The monolith scanned through his notes, "36 procedures, doctor."
"Well, someone's been asking around. My office, and certainly I, understand privacy laws enough that I never reveal such information about any of my clients. Just as I have no intention of revealing anything about Mrs Herrington's procedure. Or is that what you would like me to do?"
The monolith put his tablet aside, and tucked his hands in his pockets. "The estate has no intention of taking legal action."
"Grab your things," Jurgen clipped. Walking briskly, he pulled the Monolith's attention to the front door. "Well, I don't know what we have to talk about, that can't wait for the clinic, tomorrow-" Jurgen yanked on the doorknob, and nearly fell to the ground; it was locked.
The Monolith was standing over Jurgen; he was holding a knife. "I'm here to collect restitution."
***
Jean sat in the limo, urn in her lap. The first plumes of smoke were starting to appear when the Monolith entered. He presented the tablet to Jean. She looked over the picture gallery of the late Dr Lund, every stab wound exposed and circled with red lipstick.
"I had to turn him over, for the other 13," he offered.
When she was satisfied, Jean looked at the Monolith, and gave her million-dollar smile. "Thank you." And then she turned on the alarms.
inspired by the Discover magazine article, "Scientists Make Progress in Growing Organs from Stem Cells"
No comments:
Post a Comment