The door creaks open and a male scientist quietly walks into the room. He looks somewhat slim yet broad-shouldered, with a clean-shaved face and short brown hair. In his arms is a small folder filled with ramblings and jargon he won't rather read. He glances around the room and notes how busy this individual has been for the past three days. Diagrams, pictures and drawings of various kinds litter the walls while the multiple whiteboards and bulletin boards are filled to the brim with notes and ideas. Lastly, he turns his vision onto the only other person in the room, typing endlessly on the keyboard while taking occasional moments to write on one of the many papers scattered on the desk.

"Professor Mizatoire," the scientist asks in a tone wishing not to disturb, "May I have a word with you?"

The fingers halts from pressing another key, the chittering on the keyboard stopping as the person attached to it stands up to reveal herself. He can immediately tell she hasn't been sleeping, perhaps for at least three days. Her long, brown frazzled hair is a dead giveaway along with her eyebags.

"Heyy, what's up?" she greets with a weary smile, "I haven't had visitors in a while. You're the guy from Everglade, right?"

The scientist simply tosses the folder onto the desk, he never really cared much for its contents past the first five pages.

"This combination of various requests make almost no sense whatsoever." He couldn't help but add, "And to think I was dragged here from more important matters. Why are you wasting everyone's time and resources on impulses like these?"

She stares blankly for a few moments before his inquiry registers in her mind.

"Well, someone has to explore the crazy stuff to see what can be done. Alternatively, I just want to, no harm in that especially since everyone's getting something out of it. Anyways, is the main resource node ready?"

The scientist glares at her for referring it as simply a 'resource node'.

"You need to brush up on your vocabulary, because acquiring this 'resource node' was a costly affair. But yes, it's there for all I know."

To his surprise, Prof. Mizatoire suddenly attempts to stand right from her seat but slams her thighs on the desk's edge with a loud knock. All the papers and trinkets on it bounce for a bit while she tumbles backwards, tossing several sheets of paper into the air. As she slowly recovers from the slip, the scientist catches some of those sheets and picks up more to closely examine them.

"Strange..." he softly mutters.

Research findings on creating artificial hybrids through advanced surgical procedures. A case study about drawing power from someone who innately generates magical energy. A newspaper article about a dragon sighting in Hungary. Old personal musings in shoddy handwriting, complete with childish scribbles.

He sets down the papers and notices that Prof. Mizatoire is already absent, having already left while he was looking at her notes.

"What does she really want?"

--

Today is the big day, at least for her.

A large gathering of various intellectuals is taking place in a massive, recently-leased warehouse in Almodovar. An equally-large fleet of various parked vehicles litter the surrounding block, ranging from humble sedans to stark-white trucks. The event causes such a disturbance that the local mayor has to declare a localized State of Emergency just to give these people some breathing room and hopefully minimize any damages they might inflict if things go horribly awry.

Inside the warehouse, medical supplies and equipment of all shapes and sizes litter the main floor. At the center of it all is the most advanced portable operating theater in the world. It's a giant tomb-like cube where gravity neutralizers lift the patient into the air while robotic arms and tendrils operate with a repertoire of surgical implements, all monitored and handled by trained professionals with AI assistance inside the array of angular pods surrounding it.

Prof. Mizatoire, dressed in a white hospital gown, stands before the cube and sees her reflection on the shiny white surface, one last look at her physical appearance. Once this is all over, she will become something more.

The surface opens up like train doors, revealing a bed on the chamber's floor while the fancy robotic arms and tendrils rest in their casing. She steps into the chamber after a solemn nod and lies down on the provided bed, falling asleep immediately after continuous work. Light from various indicators and instruments around her glow into existence as the gravity neutralizers kick in. Her resting body slowly levitates from the bed and the robotic arms and tendrils spring into life and begins disassembling the body with delicate precision. Outside, the scientist from earlier watches her vital signs and monitors equipment performance with a mug of coffee in his hand.

He turns towards one of the idle personnel and asks, "So far so good I guess, how is she going to incorporate biomass from the dragon over there?"

In the corner of the main warehouse floor, a fuchsia dragon is contained in a temporal stasis field. The stasis field makes it very vague to discern its status. Maybe it's dead the entire time or only on arrival, frozen in time to avoid deterioration. Maybe it's still alive and frozen in time to avoid inhumane suffering. It is definitely smaller than others of its kind, more like a drake or even a whelp but it is loaded with magical energy to the point that a faint mist is emanating from it. How she got the resources for the experiment is a mystery for the ages.

Four men in hazmat suits are carrying a large, sterile container towards the cube. One of them turns to the scientist and tells him that he should stop looking if he is squeamish. He points to the corner where the dragon in stasis is located, the area now obscured by giant curtains. The scientist nods and walks away to take a break.

The entire operation is a great ordeal, every variable must be accounted for just so that the professor's outlandish wishes are realized. To make sure of that, he returns back to the cube after refilling his mug and getting some biscuits to eat. As the hours drag by, the exhausted personnel situated in the operating pods swaps with replacements so they too can rest.

Truth be told, this is neither the longest surgical operation nor the hypothesis with the weirdest premise he has heard of, respectively that goes to the alien behemoth's orgran transplant and the weaponization of cute little girls and their memetic effects.

--

A few days have passed since the operation started. The scientist wakes up to find that everyone around him is packing up. Apparently, in his exhausted slumber he has missed a few critical moments and the point where the operation is declared successful, after which the patient is delivered to the local hospital to recover in the ICU.

A taxi ride and a few flights of stairs later, he finds the room she is residing in. The robot security guard lets him in after a quick flash of his credentials. Inside, he finds her lying peacefully on the bed, completely cocooned by the blankets, and no one else. Earlier, he has a text message to bring a mirror, which is exactly what he pulls out from out of his pocket.

"Hey, uh, I have the mirror you wanted. Did something go wrong?" he asks with concern to her current state.

From the layer of blankets, a hand extends to greet his offering. While it still looks human, apart from the long nails, the way it's opened up looks like it's ready to grip something with no remorse. He sheepishly hands over the mirror and the hand, to his surprise, softly handles it. Suddenly she springs into life, rising up and unfurling her blanket to reveal herself like a reborn phoenix.

"Surprise! How do I look?"

Her long, brown hair has become even longer and is now in a shade of bright pink. Her red eyes faintly glow and has slits for irises while her mouth exhibits more pronounced canines. A sharp-ended tail delicately wiggles into view and a pair of horns jut out from her head. Admittedly, she is actually quite beautiful in her new state.

A moment passes, Prof. Mizatoire holds back her breathing out of pain. Her body is still adjusting to the myriad of modifications applied to it. After briefly stabilizing, she starts admiring herself through the mirror.

"I have to admit, you look pretty good." the scientist compliments while reaching for a styrofoam cup.

"Thank you," the professor replies, "Here, let me help."

She reaches for a thermos placed on a table right next to her bed and pours some hot chocolate into the cup.

"All in all," he begins concluding, "Casualties were reported in obtaining that dragon, several personnel have been critically exhausted, severely pissed off the dragon enthusiasts, burned a hole right through your pockets, and set some surprising new records in the advanced medical community; all for the sake of your rather...unique form of vanity."

He takes a sip before adding, "Tell me, Prof. Mizatoire, was all of that worth it?"

"Yup!" she replies with an enthusiastic smile and a glint in her eye, "Now it's time to move on to Phase Two!"

"WHAT!?" he blurts out, nearly spilling the contents in his cup, "You just went through the most harrowing surgery in your life and that was just the first step!?"

This is never a good sign with her.

Okay, you have pretty much the same symptom as Cruel in that you both rushed your work. The difference is, with Cruel it's really obvious that he just didn't care what happened which caused alot of plot holes, an ending blatantly ripped from a manga, and it made me root for the bad guy instead simply because he had more personality than the good guy. With you, I think you really did get everything down and ended it the way you intended, but you decided to cut corners and jump straight to the meat of it instead of building it up. You also did alot of Tell not Show which greatly affected the tone of this story and left me with a confusing ride.

Your story feels railroaded like a children's book. From the beginning all the way to the end we are fed thoughts about the situation as it unfolded, as if it knows better to lecture us than to let us infer into whatever fate these 2 characters have befallen. It's like you're Ringo and I'm watching Thomas the Tank Engine all over again. Trains puns aside, asking questions to the reader or telling us what they were feeling and what they had been through instead of showing it gradually unfold CAN work...if that was your point.

If your point was to lecture us like Rod Serling (I'm sorry I have to use Twilight Zone again in a CNC. Just google Rod Serling TZ on youtube.) on the dangers of being greedy with god powers, then yes by all means narrate it this way. But you're trying to make us feel for these guys and their plight. You shouldn't be holding our hands all the way. Put them in the situation, let them do what comes natural for their character. Then leave it to us to infer what it all means. If we start theorizing all around and make suggestions as to why and what just happened, then you'll know you succeeded.

For example, you never see me telling you what Terry Mosfet outright concluded given his situation except at the end when it was too late. I led him around, made him naturally follow a trail, made him do the work, and it is as you said in your CNC: you were able to fill in the blanks on your own and it satisfied you.

Speaking of which, is this suppose to be a part of a saga of some sort? Because I feel like I just opened a comic book to Part 5 of Strange Tales from Outer Space, where our heroes are trapped in a forever spiralling event horizon as a previously mentioned Alien Artifact (see Issue #4) was just rescued by crewmember Zed.

Know what I'm sayin? If this was a TV Show, I'd turn it off right now because I was being spoiled and I needed to watch it in order.

As I read your whole plot, I was much more interested in the entire context of their situation (which you never explained) rather than what transpired because I felt like I just missed something I should have read beforehand and I needed that info to understand what's going on and why. And no amount of infodumping in a single paragraph can ever establish a setting properly that way. All we know of Jak is that he's a family man and Zed that he's kind of a jerk with a god complex but it felt like they've been established already and you're just re-iterating these facts.

Actually to say that Jak is a family man is kinda stretching it. That would imply that he actually has motivations and dimensions in his character and he's in this space mission for them and that he cares about what this mission is about. No, all I really know is that he's this whiny astronaut who just wants to go home and see his wife and kids. Like they're cardboard cutouts that he carries around and talks to and if you take em away, he's pretty much a flat character. All we ever know about Zed is that he went to school with the guy and he has a great but scary imagination.

The way I see it you had 2 ways of introducing your chars and story. You could've absolutely started from the beginning, built up their friendship with slow subtle sequences to make us feel for them when they eventually disagree. You could also build up their quirks like show Jak constantly looking at a family photo, have crayon drawings in his cabin, or have him talk about his kids or how he met his wife constantly. For Zed, its easier---just have him ultimately concerned with power with less disregard for their safety. Have him crush a cockroach for no reason to build on his ends justify the means philosophy. So that eventually when Part 5 (this story) happens, we would be much more invested in their plight.

The second way is the complete opposite. Let us fill in the blanks. Start exactly where you started now but cut out the narration. Mention things objectively and let things play out. Use the dialogue to surgically drop hints about their character. Maybe let Jak say stuff like "She was really something, you know? Kissed me for good luck and all." then have Zed retort with "Well she ain't here now, but she can be!" Immediately, even if we know nothing about your infodump, we can immediately see that Jak is rather emotional and caring while Zed thinks you can just make your own happiness in this world.

In Michael Crichton's Sphere, it was never really explained what the Sphere was. So you can get away with never explaining the artifact. We just need to know how it was found and why the characters got into contact with it.

And sorry if I have to use my work again as an example, but remember when you read about terms like SOCs and the SOCnet and Sigils and Links? Not once did I try to define them outright. Instead I let you figure it out based on the context of the situation. I mean yeah later I did define it, but I also provided more need to knows because at that point you'd already figure out what it was and my explanation was a reward for your attentiveness.

So, I don’t really know where to begin my story. It’s a bit weird to think about, since it kinda happened really fast. Really, going from being some high school dropout to the Ambassador of Interspecies Relations (and yes, it’s the stupidest acronym ever) in under a month is a strange thing to talk about. Lots of people, lots of interviews, everything just changes instantly. Thinking back, I think I kinda do have an idea of where to start. It started with the dumbest dare I ever accepted.

~~~

My name is Rick, short for Richard. I’m seventeen years old, dropped out of high school, and work at a rover shop to earn my ration tickets. Oh, and I’m a martian. Don’t let the name fool you, I’m a full blooded human just like anyone else. I just happened to grow up on Mars rather than Earth. It was around fifty years ago that we managed to terraform the Martian surface enough to support life, and ever since, small settlements have been cropping up. I’m third generation, which sounds like it’d be super cool but in actuality it’s rather irritating. The population up here is really small, and we’re kinda like celebrities in a way despite being really normal. I look things up all the time online; we’re like some kind of novelty. ”People in space! How do they live, how’re their lives compared to ours?”

We’re just normal people, trying to make it by under some slightly different circumstances.

Anyways, since food and water is pretty limited, everyone works somewhere to earn ration tickets. Growing crops was the easy part; maintaining enough to sustain a population was where it got tricky. I suppose in that light, I was unlucky to not be born to a farming family. You’d think they’ve got more power than the government up here, and I can’t say you’d be entirely incorrect. Anyways, I’m sidetracking with useless gobbledigook. The dare is what’s important here.

I was with some of my friends, whom I refer to as such for convenience sake, dared me to stick my arm into a rock. Like I said, it was a stupid dare. The rock looked kinda like a gauntlet, and so all the time local kids would stick their hands in and things to pretend they were some sword-in-the-stone-but-with-a-glove hero. So what fun it would be for a grown guy to do the same for some people he only occasionally hung out with to get off to. Naturally, I thought I’d put my hand in, maybe have a few pictures taken, and we’d all get a good laugh out of acting like idiots. It never occurred to any of us that it might suddenly glow and wouldn’t come off of my arm… well, actually, that’s not quite right. That’s what they thought; in fact, what had happened was it ate my arm. Ridiculous, right? A rock, eating a person’s arm. If not for OTIS immediately binding with my nervous system, I might’ve had a really bad day.

Oh yeah, I named him OTIS. Not because I like naming inanimate objects that suddenly consume and replace body part. No, I named him because he started talking to me. I was understandably terrified at the time. The very first thing it said to me was “Good day. I have assimilated with you.” This was proceeded by it asking “Wait… just what are you?”

In my defense, I recovered my nerves quickly, and began having a conversation with the rock that was now my arm and hand. After a short introduction, I discovered it was apparently some form of ancient biomechanical limb designed by the original Martians to provide protection and ease of living. This brought up a few important questions for me.

“Original Martians? There was really life before us? And wait, how did they make a… a supercomputer gauntlet out of rock? And how’d they make you biomechanical at that? And why the hell can you speak english?” I never really got any answers to my questions, because OTIS, whom I named that as an acronym for Old Tech Intelligent Stone (genius, I know, go screw off), was having some difficulties remembering things. It did, however, remember that it shouldn’t have been able to function with with anything but the Original Martians because of the composition of their bodies, and that they worked on a sort of hive-mind system.

Well, after I managed to catch up with my “friends,” it became apparent they couldn’t hear OTIS, and were freaking out at how calm I was over my arm now being a hunk of red rock. Really, I think it was more that I’d had enough to simply numb me to everything. It occurred to me though, that despite OTIS being apparently stone, he was surprisingly light. Not that my arm wasn’t suddenly weighed down, but more like it wasn’t weighed down as much as I’d expect. It was maybe another five pounds, ten max. I went home after figuring that we were getting nowhere, and from there, things got a bit troublesome.

Two things popped up from me and OTIS meeting up. The first thing is that I became a sort of medical mystery. Luckily, there wasn’t enough of a real governing body to lead to me being kidnapped and experimented on, but I had doctors pounding on my door almost constantly and was hounded to and from work. I also had to deal with the difficulty of getting clothes on, which, lemme tell you, is no small feat. The sensation of touch is surprisingly necessary to completing tasks like that, and it’s great if your arms are symmetrical so they definitely fit through your damn sleeves.

The second thing to occur is, and this part I still don’t fully grasp, the awakening of the Original Martians. Apparently, OTIS was meant to be a trigger, a sort of beacon that they should reawaken from their slumber beneath the surface. Their arrival was met with, understandably, a lot of fear, because they weren’t exactly as we’d imagined. Usually, you’d think little green or grey men. But hey, that was what we’d gotten from Earth. In all honesty, that might have been better. No, the Original Martians were… bacteria. Colonies of bacteria taking humanoid form, a hivemind of clones. It’s so peculiar to think about, really, a world of bacteria.

At first, it looked like there was gonna be war. Earth was gonna condemn us all, and blow us to Kingdom Come. Then, through the luckiest turn of events, OTIS recovered enough of its memories to reveal a stunning truth to me: we humans, were originally born of the Original Martians. The single-celled organisms believed to have been the original proponent for life were in fact seeds sent by them, like their children. The introduction of the Mitochondria, however, vastly altered them from their propagators, and while Mars slowly wasted away, Earth thrived with its new branches of life. Once I revealed this to the rest of humanity, I was naturally ridiculed and nearly killed as a traitor to my species (seriously, people love to hate, don’t they?).

Working with the Original Martians through OTIS, I managed to hold down a war while research was conducted, and the truth became known. The reason I was compatible with OTIS was that a birth defect led to some of my cells somehow not having mitochondria, making me compatible enough with Martian Technology to act as the bridge between species.

That’s the thick and thin of my story. Of course, there’s a lot more to it than that, but hey, I’ve got a meeting to get to. Brokering peace is no simple task, and OTIS starts to get really annoying when I take too long doing things.