Self-replicating nanomachines, at least inorganic ones, were still science fiction in this world, and I kind of felt that was a good thing.
As for cloning, NC-Taylor thought it might be possible to clone parahumans, power and all. She had mentioned that there was a Rogue Tinker whose speciality was memory technology when we talked about this. Could she copy someone's memory and then implant that memory in a clone of them? That would be a kind of immortality, I supposed, but I think I preferred the simple alternative of never dying in the first place.
I mean, if I died, it would be nice if there was another person that sprung up that thought exactly how I did to continue my life's work, but I didn't think that would be me precisely. All I could say of that approach was: it was better than nothing.
I stretched like a cat before getting out of bed. Although I had only been in basic training for a little while, my instincts were still strong enough that I quickly made my bed before putting on some clothes. Today was a rare day off from work at the hospital, meaning I would work downstairs at my clinic for part of the day while working on my projects for the rest.
A biotinker was a lot like a chef, at least in the sense that you were often dealing with processes that couldn't be sped up past a certain point, so you were just left while things "cooked." This described my experiments with the algae pretty well, as I could make a change to the next samples and then come back the next day to see the effect of the new generation. That meant that I actually could do a fairly decent amount of work even with my busy schedule, as I was often waiting for cultures to grow, or if I was working on cybernetics, most of my work was done on my cyberdeck in three-point-five times speed, which I could even do while working at the hospital during down periods.
Mostly though, I had been acting less like a biotinker and more like just a regular doctor in my time in this world, even if a world-class doctor. Partly because I didn't want to stand out, that I couldn't hide my creations sufficiently and finally, partly because I didn't have enough resources to start down that research path, absent a few things here and there. But now, I was pretty well set for all three of those obstacles.
Several weeks later
My elfin receptionist led another young woman, around her age, into my office. It was one of my days off from the hospital, again, as few as they were, so I was spending some time downstairs. The techs I hired were fairly capable of handling most routine requests. Really, people weren't that imaginative when talking about mostly cosmetic procedures that they desired.
For the ladies, it usually amounted to a smaller waist, bigger bust, more symmetrical face and metabolic tweaks sufficient to keep all of those things. Men, generally, wanted to look and be stronger, fitter, and taller with similar metabolism tweaks and occasionally also predictable modifications to their primary sexual characteristic.
There were outliers in both genders, of course, but I had designed software that took a person's complete three-dimensional scan and offered a number of options as a starting point. Then the techs or I could work from that starting point and create something that they wanted. It saved a lot of time, and I was rather proud of it, actually, especially since software development was one of my weaknesses.
However, I still needed to be called in for exceptional modifications and things that required artistry that was a cut above, which did happen from time to time. My receptionist smiled and introduced her friend, "Dr Hasumi, this is my roommate, Sarah." She paused and said, "She has been asking where I got my biosculpt done and finally agreed to come to see you."
I glanced at the well-dressed young woman and frowned. Her outfit cost more than the rent I knew my receptionist paid in six months. She clearly didn't need a roommate. I hadn't done any background investigations on her roommates, though, as why would I bother?
"Why are you living with a roommate when you clearly don't need one?" I asked curiously, with my eyes darting to the designer clutch handbag she was carrying. She was the first woman I'd seen carrying a purse in recent memory.
My receptionist looked a little confused, but this Sarah blinked and tilted her head to the side, smiling. "Does that matter?"
It was inappropriate for me to ask in the first place, so I didn't push it. I was a little protective of my employees, though. I shook my head, "I don't suppose so. Come, have a seat," I motioned and then glanced up at my receptionist and dismissed her politely, "Thank you."
After we were alone, I pulled up her patient record. She had already had her full-body scan, so she was at least a little serious. She had a minimal amount of augmentations, but those that she had were high-class. I didn't have any cheesy lines to say to her, like the first biosculpt clinic I went to said to me so long ago, so I just asked, "So, what can we help you with?"
"Well, I'm not sure you can. I've gone to numerous clinics in town, and they could either help me with part or couldn't help me at all. I'd like to get everything handled at the same clinic. I'm very interested in similar modifications as Elise has, but I also want to be one hundred and eighty centimetres," she said brightly.
I blinked. She was short. I glanced internally at her patient record. Did she want to go from one hundred and fifty-five cems to one-eighty? That was a twenty-five-centimetre increase in height, which was quite a lot to ask of biosculpt treatments. I had been rather lucky, and Dr Hasumi was only about seven centimetres shorter than I was. It was no wonder many clinics refused her service.
There were plenty of biosculpt clinics that would specialise in radical exotic-like alterations like she was seeking, but mostly they didn't offer heavy-duty biosculpt at the same time.
"We can do that, but you have to understand you'd be spending quite a lot of time in one of our tanks every day for one month, yes?" I asked her, doing some mental calculations. This could have been a single-day affair if it wasn't for the height requirement.
She nodded and said, "Yes, that is absolutely no problem. I also want to receive some additional services as well, over and above the cosmetic treatments." She listed off a litany of practical biosculpt, including muscle and bone lace, ballistic skin weave, as well as the nanosurgeon and enhanced immune system installation. Almost the whole nine yards.
I clucked my tongue. A big spender, she was, "We can do all of that. I've recently received approval to classify this location as an outpatient surgical centre as well, but I don't presently have the approval to conduct the last two surgeries, namely the nanosurgeon and immune system enhancements."
She looked disappointed, but I held up a hand, "I had been thinking about getting a locum, though, until I am. I know a number of gifted surgeons who would be willing to work on a PRN basis for me, so we should be able to accommodate you, assuming you're satisfied with the end result."
She brightened then but asked, confused, "A locum? PRN?"
I winced internally. It had finally happened. I had become the trope of the doctor that threw out random Latin and Greek words as if everyone knew what I was talking about. Locum tenens was a Latin word that directly translated into lieutenant. In a medical context, it meant someone hired to perform a doctor's services when the primary doctor, for example, myself, was unavailable. And PRN was an abbreviation for pro re nata, which most people may recognise if they read their prescriptions before getting them filed at the pharmacy and means "as needed."
I thought it was a little pedantic, but honestly, it was one of the reasons I was sitting here in Dr Hasumi's skin. I didn't need an education in medicine so much as in medical culture. Technical jargon, I understood, but there was a lot of arcane phraseology in medicine that wasn't strictly speaking technical, and that was only the start.
A new resident that needed to be taught how to use the almost industry-standard patient charting software in a hospital? That is expected; you did learn several versions of it in medical school, but who would remember it? But if I planned on basically buying Taylor Hebert a medical degree, I wanted to leave as few clues to such a thing as possible.
"A substitute surgeon," I replied simply and then said, "Well, let's see if I can satisfy you with a suitable metamorphosis."
After that, I pulled up her nude three-dimensional scan on the holographic display on my desk. She wasn't shy at all and inched closer on the edge of her seat to see. As she told me what she wanted, I quickly got an idea. Rather than Elise, who wanted the petite, almost fey look, Sarah wanted a more traditional, elfin one. Tall, slender, and supernaturally beautiful. Like Galadriel from The Lord of the Rings novels or the film adaptation from Earth Aleph film that we all had watched before Mom passed away.
She told me that this sort of exotic template had become popular based on the fashion of the richest people in the European Community last year. It was kind of like when an actress would wear a stunning designer dress to a party, get photographed and then a few months later; you'd see knock-off versions of that dress on the rack at certain stores.
Her present face had fairly round features, and as I kept making adjustmentsto her requests — literally painting on my desk-display with a special stylus in quick economic motions. Finally, I said, "You know, you will barely resemble yourself..."
I pulled up a closeup of her face now and what she had me design next to each other on the holo display for her to look at. There was very little overlap, but she seemed to love the angular, high cheekbones, to say nothing about the exaggeratedly long ears. She grinned, looking excited, "I know, it's going to be so cool!"
I shrugged and continued working. It took about an hour for her to be satisfied, which wasn't that long on an exotic consult like this. Finally, I shifted to clothes mode, which was very simple. I could pick a number of preset clothing options, or I could paint a simple outline of a dress, and the machine-learning system churned on that for a moment before populating her body in a similar dress as I outlined.
Somewhat similar, anyway. My power didn't help me overly much in drawing clothes.
She vibrated with excitement at the end result, but I was humming, not quite satisfied. I made a few small adjustments to the hair and then tilted my head to the side. Why wasn't I satisfied? She looked quite elfin, but she didn't look quite like a magical elf lady, and that was my mental image.
Nodding to myself, I opened up the internals of the projection and made a few adjustments. The holograph blinked and shifted and was replaced by the same woman, except her hair almost glowed and glittered in the light, exhibiting the ethereal and magical quality I was looking for.
Sarah gasped and said, "Yes, yes, yes! How did you do that? Can hair do that?"
I shook my head, "No, but techhair can. Let me see if I can show you." Internally, I was programming a simple routine on my own techhair to mimic it. It didn't come with this "magic elf hair" preset, obviously, but it was programmable.
After a moment, my hair shifted to pale, almost platinum blonde and then began glittering in a manner similar to the projection. "Techhair is a cybernetic installation, of course, but we can perform that here." I couldn't, legally; although I had installed a number of similar implants at the hospital, I would make sure my locum could.
That sold her, and she even agreed to pay for everything up-front, too. She would be able to do most of the work today, enough that she would leave looking like a petite elf girl, and she would gain about a centimetre of height a day after that. I'd have her surgeries scheduled for a week or two out, as I had to call a couple of people to see if they were interested.
My surgical Attending might want some extra income; he had been a little shocked that I already owned my own practice, such as it was, anyway. NC-Taylor's memories were telling me that it was always good to kiss up to your boss, especially when that kissing up included either tangible benefits or free booze.
While the girl was escorted to one of our tanks, where she would spend the entire day, I opened up her file and finalised the treatment plan that the techs would use. It had to be chopped into segments over the next month, which I could then send to her as digital calendar appointments.
My post-treatment prescription today would include some physical therapy exercises for the next week; it always took a while for someone to get used to augmented strength, even if the muscle lace didn't provide as much benefit as a cybernetic prosthesis.
It had been my experience, thus far, that people rarely followed this advice. I couldn't really throw stones because I hadn't either when I got the same treatment years ago.
I nodded after a moment of contemplation. As long as she doesn't immediately try to give her boyfriend a handie, it should be fine.
I laid my hands in my lap, behind my large desk, as I regarded the Meditech suit that requested an appointment with me. I was careful not to let anything show on my face, but I was a little concerned about his arrival today.
You see, all of our biosculpt tanks were either stolen entirely or partly-reversed engineered versions of the stolen Meditech model that Wakako had stolen from a Biotechnica clinic and sold to me. I was a little concerned that they had been tipped off, and this was a threat that I either had to come to Jesus and pay what I owed them or else. Large corporations were notoriously rough with small companies that infringed on their intellectual property, even if many parts of the Meditech product were, in fact, copied from its competitors as well.
And a small company? I didn't even have the arrogance to claim that. I was tiny. If I was some back alley Ripper or semi-illegal biosculpt clinic, they'd never bother, but I was a mostly legitimate clinic on track to have an EBITDA of over a million Eurodollars this fiscal year, assuming things stayed on track for the latter two quarters. So I was probably worth shaking down to them.
For a young woman that was allegedly only twenty-nine going it on her own, that was amazing, to say nothing of the actual younger woman that wasn't even twenty, yet, that I actually was. Most businesses failed, and I went into my clinic with the idea that it would probably, fail. If it did, I had a couple of other ideas, anyway.
