#hovercamera

[pareidoliaonthemove]

A New Policy

Part Two: VIP (Very Important imPosition)

(And since Tumblr is being a pain and I can't find Part One here, you can find it here on AO3).

Apolline Morel looked up as the door gave its discreet chime.

And swore.

She had been the Invoicing and Reception Operative at Tracy Industries’ prestigious Custom Transport Paris office for the last seven years, and had seen all sorts of eccentric – and rich – persons come through the door, and by far Francois Lemaire was the worst of the worst.

She and her colleagues had often dreamed and schemed about refusing the obnoxious idiot service, and they had initially been overjoyed at the thought that they had official permission from the highest authority – Scott Tracy, CEO and homme de rêve – to do so. Until they realised that they would have to tell Lemaire that they would not sell whatever it was he wanted.

To his face.

Apolloine, as had all her colleagues, had consoled herself that the chances of having to actually do so were remote. After all, the Blacklisted persons had all been notified that they would no longer be served by Tracy Industries businesses, non?

Non; or at least, Lemaire hadn’t got the message. Apolline’s heart sank as the man burst through the secondary doors, a damned hovercamera flitting around him, and his wife – Madeline – trailing behind him, with the air of a woman who knew she was about to witness a train wreck and was helpless (and disinclined) to stop it.

“And here we are, at our first stop towards adventure! The luxurious offices of Custom Transport Paree” – Apolline rolled her eyes as his English-language monologue made a point of over-emphasising the proper (that is, French) pronunciation of the city – “where the best designers and technicians will spare no effort – and I will spare no expense – to ensure that I, Francois Lemaire, will be in comfort as I forge yet another world first! The first person to drive up Mount Everest!”

Apolline remembered his previous ‘expedition’ to Everest. It had taken three sherpas to carry the man’s cheeses to the top of the mountain. The outcry from the amount of rubbish that had been left on the top of the mountain – not just holy, but considered an actual goddess – had been the final straw that saw the Nepalese severely restricting access to the mountain. Never mind the idiocy on the descent that saw the man trapping himself and three sherpas in an ice cave. With a yak.

Lemaire’s monologue ended with a flourish as he presented himself to the desk. The holocamera drifted out for dramatic wide angle. “I am Francois Lemaire. Adventurer. Explorer!”

A pointed cough from behind him. “Oh, and this my biographer, Madeline Lemaire.” A vague handwave behind him.

“Your wife.” It was muttered, and not meant for Apolline to hear. Apolline met the woman’s eyes, and was surprised when she smirked. “Give it to him good” was mouthed silently.

Apolline didn’t have a chance to acknowledge Madeline, Lemaire had resumed speaking. “And I have come here today, to Custom Transport Paree to order the construction of a car that will enable me to be the first person to drive up Mount Everest!”

He struck a pose, clearly expecting some kind of accolade or ovation.

Apolline smiled at him, tightly. “Does Monsieur have an appointment?”

He stared at her, bewildered. “I am Francois Lemaire,” he repeated. “Explorer? Adventurer? World Famous? First person to visit Halley’s Comet? I brought the Solar Wind off you people!”

Apolline typed into the computer, as she tried to figure out how to handle this. “Francois … Lemaire …”

The computer beeped before Lemaire could list more ‘accomplishments’.

Apolline looked at the display. Apparently Lemaire had also brought a bathyscape, Artic snowcrawler, and submersible from them as well.

Across the client file display in big, violent red letters was the words ‘Account Closed. Blacklisted’. Apolline’s eyes widened. Management wasn’t taking any chances here, were they?

She took a deep breath, and went for broke. “I am sorry, Mr Lemaire, it appears you do not have an appointment, and that you no longer qualify for a client file.”

Apolline had once been visiting friends in Sicily when Mount Etna had undergone it’s biggest eruption in recorded history. The effects of the volcano had nothing on Lemaire’s reaction.

“I AM FRANCOIS LEMAIRE!!!” he screamed. “I AM WORLD FAMOUS!!! I AM RICH!!!! YOU CANNOT REFUSE TO BUILD MY MOUNTAIN CLIMBING CAR!!! I WANT IT!!! AND YOU ARE GOING TO GIVE IT TO ME!!!”

Apolline got to work on the computer as the man continued his tantrum. DM channels; where was … Ah, here. Blacklist: Situation. She started typing rapidly.

Name: Apolline Morel

Section: Invoicing and Reception, Custom Transport Paris

Details: Francois Lemaire arrived office, no appointment, demand construction of ‘mountaineering car’ to be ‘first person to drive up Mt Everest’. Became hysterical on being told no longer qualifies for client file. Request assistance.

She hit send and eyed the time display discreetly inlaid into the desk’s surface. Response within ten minutes, the memo and training packages had said. Well, she’d be testing that promise out today.

She didn’t think she could stand more than ten minutes of this.

They were seven and a half minutes in and Apolline hadn’t seen evidence of Lemaire drawing in a breath as his high-volume tirade continued non-stop. Behind him, Madeline was disinterestedly examining her nails as the holocamera zoomed around the room erratically, closing in and out from Lemaire and careening around in circles, apparently controlled by Lemaire’s hand gestures, his wild gesticulation had sent it haywire.

She was just about to try again to speak when in the ceiling a previously unknown holoprojector flared into life.

Lemaire was finally silenced as everyone in the room stared in shock as a hologram – a very high quality, almost solid appearing hologram – of Scott Tracy appeared standing behind the desk, next to Apolline, as large as life, and almost as physically real.

Mr Tracy turned to Apolline. “Ms Morel,” he said, smiling slightly at her. “I am sorry that you have had to deal with this. Please, take an extended lunch break – with full pay.”

Apolline quickly swiped her employee card at the terminal, logging her out of the system and securing the terminal, and she stood, fighting the urge to curtsy to her employer.

“I am sorry to have bothered you, Mr Tracy. Thank you for your assistance. If you need me, I shall be in the employee lounge, sir.”

Scott smiled, and nodded. “Thank you, Ms Morel. Please take your time.”

He turned back to Lemaire as Apolline backed away, awed to be in the presence of the legendary Scott Tracy, even if said presence was a holographic one.

In the background, Madeline grinned at her, and gave her a discreet ‘thumbs up’ – Apolline smiled back at the woman, and mouthed ‘thank you’ to her.

Holographic Scott Tracy had turned his attention to Lemaire as Apolline ordered the elevator to take her to the second floor. “Now, Mr Lemaire, I believe there are some matters we need to clear up…” was the last thing she heard as the elevator doors closed.

It seemed like every member of Custom Transport Paris’s staff was crammed into the employee lounge.

Apolline barely had time to register this fact when Andre, her manager, seized her by the arm. “Apolline, are you all right? It must have been awful, dealing with that terrible man!”

“I’m fine. But what’s everyone doing here?”

“Word got around that Lemaire was here. We all wanted to see what would happen when you refused him service.”

Apolline snorted. “Thanks. Nobody thought to help me?”

“I think you had plenty of help, without us.” Andre gestured at the security hologram of the lobby and reception desk on display in the centre of the room.

Apolline stared. A holographic Lemaire was scowling at the equally unimpressed holographic (double-holographic?) Scott Tracy. “What’s happened?” she asked.

“After you left Mr Tracy ‘reminded’ Lemaire that he had been blacklisted, and no Tracy Industries companies would serve him.” Andre started.

“And Lemaire kicked off about how that it was illegal,” snickered Juan, one of the designers.

Andre glared at him. “Mr Tracy’s just finished going through the legal details of why and how that is allowed,” he continued. “Mr Tracy either has a very thorough knowledge of business and customer service law, or he has been very well briefed, very quickly.”

“Shhhh!” someone hushed from near the hologram. “It’s starting to get good!”

Everyone pushed closer to the hologram, those in front sitting or kneeling down to allow a better view for those in back.

The tiny Lemaire was pouting, “I don’t know why you’re making such a fuss, nobody died! Anyway, if the car that your company provides fails, you run International Rescue. You can stop people dying because your company provides inferior products.”

There were outraged gasps around the room. Most of the designers were casting longing looks at the door with clenched fists, but were being held in place by their friends from other departments.

Lemaire kept going. “Is that why you started International Rescue? So you can play the hero when your substandard products fail and put people in danger?” He was attempting to poke the hologram in the chest with his fingers. “You put me in danger! I could have got back from Halley’s Comet if your company had given me a safe spaceship.”

Scott Tracy’s eyes blazed. “MISTER Lemaire. I must warn you that, as per the signage, for security purposes the premises integrate security cameras, and that what you are saying is slander.” A hand appeared from behind Mr Tracy, disappearing into a red and black checked sleeve, and lightly touched his shoulder. Muttered words and Mr Tracy made a visible effort to calm himself, before speaking again and the hand disappeared.

“Mr Lemaire, your stated purpose for commissioning a quote ‘mountain climbing car’ is to ‘drive up’ Mount Sagarmatha–”

“Um, No! I’m going to drive up Mount Everest! I said that VERY clearly. Mount EVER-REST.”

“Mount Sagarmatha, and after your disastrous previous ‘expedition’ – and the numerous crimes you commited during that time–”

“What ‘crimes’? Now how’s slandering who? I committed no crimes!”

Mr Tracy stared. “You mean other than making false statements to gain your climb permit? Fraudulently claiming you had climbed other 8,000ft peaks? Fraudulently claiming you had appropriate insurance. Mistreatment of the Sherpas you hired? Interfering with burial sites?”

Lemaire shuddered. “I was not going to share a camp site with corpses,” he declared. “After all that fuss they made about ���polluting’ the mountain, you think they’d clean up the corpses. Health hazard, that is.”

“Mr” – and there was no mistaking the disdain in that title – “Lemaire, Mount Sagarmatha is a recognised burial ground. It is dangerous to try and remove from the mountain anybody who cannot realistically be saved. What you did – pushing the bodies off the mountain – was a crime. And as such, the Nepalese Government deported you and banned you from ever returning to their country again.”

Lemaire waved his hand dismissively. “I’m not going back to Nepal. Why would I want to? Much better to drive up Mount Everest from Tibet. The route is all planned.”

There was a sigh. “In any case, other than approved helicopters at both North and South Face base camps, no mechanised vehicles are permitted on Mount Sagarmatha or Mount Chomolungma. Even Thunderbirds are forbidden under normal circumstances. As per our agreement with both the Nepalese and Tibetan Governments, International Rescue do not respond to calls from the Holy Mountain, other than at the request of the governments.” The disembodied hand returned, resting comforting on Mr Tracy’s shoulder.

Apolline shuddered. How many calls for help from dying mountaineers had they been forced to ignore? He heart ached, but she realised that the phrase ‘Holy Mountain’ was how Mr Tracy reminded himself that his help, there on a literal goddess, was not appropriate.

Lemaire sniffed. “Nobody will deny me. Nobody turns away the money I can pay. I’ll drive up Mount Everest. I’ll be the first person to do it, and the world will be watching.” He turned away. “And I’ll make sure everybody knows that Tracy Industries refuses to serve customers.”

Suddenly Lemaire spun back, again stabbing fingers at Mr Tracy’s holographic chest. “And don’t get any ideas about stealing my idea! I’ll sue you into poverty if I find out you’re even thinking about driving up Mount Everest before me!”

Lemaire turned again and flounced out of the building, the holocamera faithful tailing him, with Madeline reluctantly behind. Scott Tracy’s hologram remained, standing in front of the reception desk, hands on hips and frowning at the retreating ‘explorer’

In the employee lounge, people erupted into cheers and catcalls at Lemaire. There were backslaps and hugs all around.

All of which fell to awed silence as the hologram of the reception lobby disappeared to be replaced by the lifesized Scott Tracy. An eyebrow went up at the packed room, before he spoke. “Ms Morel?”

Apolline stepped into the holograms reception field – although she suspected from his reaction that when Mr Tracy accessed it, the reception field was greatly expanded – assisted by a push from Andre. “Yes, Mr Tracy?”

His eyes raked her, assessing, “I wanted to make sure you were alright after your … unpleasant … experience earlier.” His eyes darted around the room. “And I must say, I am very pleased to see you so ably supported by your colleagues.”

Mr Durand, the General Manager, stepped forward. “Please forgive us, Mr Tracy. Mr Lemaire has in the past been an unpleasant person for many of our staff to deal with. When it became apparent that he had returned, despite his Blacklisted status, many people hoped for the satisfaction of seeing him turned away.”

Mr Tracy nodded, thoughtfully. “I hope I didn’t disappoint.” A pause. “And, to further reassure you all, the recording of Mr Lemaire’s statements here today will be forwarded to the Nepalese, Tibetan, and Chinese Governments. If anyone is foolish enough to supply him with the vehicle he is trying to purchase, he will be stopped before he can get anywhere near the mountain.”

There was a general murmur of approval throughout the room, and Mr Tracy frowned again. “Mr Durand, you said that Mr Lemaire has been unpleasant do deal with in the past. Can you please forward to an elaboration on that to my email? And sometime in the next fortnight, please provide a list and broad details of any comparable clients. It appears we need to educate some of our customers as to how to behave politely in public.”

The General Manager nodded, as another murmur of appreciation went up around the room. Mr Tracy turned back to Apolline. “Ms Morel, I am deeply sorry that you had to deal with that outburst earlier. If you feel you need it, please do not hesitate to take time off. I will make sure you receive full pay for any time.”

Apolline gathered herself. “Thank you for your kindness, Mr Tracy. I am perfectly all right. I do not need any time away from work. And it is I who should apologise to you. I am sorry that I disturbed you to deal with this matter.”

Mr Tracy smiled easily. “No apology necessary, Ms Morel. I am afraid we did expect something like this when we instigated the Blacklist, it’s why we set up the Blacklist DM. The people we have been forced to refuse custom are … not known for their social skills, and tend to operate with little regard for safety and the welfare of others.”

Apolline bowed her head. “Then I am sorry that you have to deal with them, Mr Tracy. Hopefully, this will be the last time.”

Mr Tracy sighed. “I doubt it, Ms Morel. Unfortunately, other companies will build what he wants because they cannot afford to turn away commissions. And they will wash their conscience by saying it falls to others to ensure the rules he will break are upheld.”

Someone else spoke up then. “Do you really not rescue people off of Mount, uh –”

Mr Tracy smiled. “The highest mountain in the world? It does get rather confusing about the name issue, but it was only fifty years ago Nepal and Tibet agreed on the official height of the mountain. And as for agreeing on an official name … Well, miracles do happen.” Then he sighed. “And yes, as I told Mr Lemaire, unless we get official requests from the appropriate governments, we do not respond. It is part of the agreement International Rescue has with the Council of World Governments that allows us to operate. We wouldn’t park a Thunderbird in a church, we will not park one on the mountain. Everyone who climbs the mountain does so knowing the risks, and they must accept the consequences.” He seemed to wilt, “It’s hard, but we must do it.”

A klaxon sounded, and a voice announced, “International Rescue, we have a situation.”

Mr Tracy glanced over his shoulder, before turning back to his employees speaking rapidly. “I’m sorry, I’m going to have to go. But thank you again, Ms Morel for your sterling work in a difficult situation, and thank you, everybody, for your support of your colleagues. It’s always a pleasure to see people who work together and look after each other. Mr Durand, I look forward to working with you to ensure our people are treated correctly. Tracy Island out.” The hologram fizzed and blinked out, the view of the empty lobby returning.

“Wow.” Apolline didn’t realise she had spoken until Andre placed a hand on her shoulder.

“Do as Mr Tracy says, Apolline, take some time. I’ll take over the desk for the rest of today.”

Apolline shook herself, and went to speak, but she saw the rest of the company nodding at her, encouragingly. She reconsidered. “Thank you, Andre. I think after this morning a break from reception will be welcome. I will work on invoicing today, if I may.”

Andre glanced at Mr Durand, and they both shrugged. “If you feel that’s best for you, Apolline,” he said.

Mr Durand nodded. “And before everybody returns to their work, may I please request that you provide me with details of past … unpleasant encounters, both with Mr Lemaire and other clients, as Mr Tracy requested. Hopefully we will be able to prevent further such displays.”

The room broke up, Apolline snatching her lunch from the refrigerator before joining the huddle of Invoicing and Reception staff returning to their backroom offices. As she joined in with her own stories of horrible customers, she felt a sense of pride. Not just in herself, but in her colleagues – her friends. Coming to work was still a pain many days, but Tracy Industries went out of its way to treat its people well.

And today proved how far out of its way it would go.

Notes:

I MAY have been fantasising a bit about employers who actually care about and support their employees.

I may also have been catching up on some reading / viewing and had a convergence of Mt Everest (name used for simplicity) related 'texts' (most of which is 'Dead Lucky: life after death on Mount Everest' by Lincoln Hall) - and I now understand MORE about the logistics of doing so, and understand LESS about why anyone would be so insane as to wish to do so.

I hope everyone has employers and colleagues as supportive as Apolline has.

[kiseichew]

Im-patient

A semi-original Parasyte fanfiction. Prompt: A doctor performs the first head transplant. By the end of the surgery, the recipient's original body had greatly degraded. Even if something had gone wrong, there was no going back. It was only a question of whether they would lose one life or two today.

It was the year 2130, and the world was about to witness the first vertebrae-to-cranium full head transplant. The surgeon presiding over the highly experimental operation was one Doctor Jonathan Jameston, the foremost specialist surgeon of Xenia Hospital.

As the most senior surgeon and head physician, he had the unenviable task of making sure the transplant succeeded. Thousands of eyes were watching and waiting to condemn the procedure should it fail. The transparent smartglass walls of the specially made public operating room would display the surgery as it progressed; there was no room for mistakes.

Around the glass-encased room, the amphitheater held hundreds of anticipatory watchers, ranging from wealthy benefactors to medical experts to staff within the hospital. The rest of the room was filled with large hovercameras vying to get the perfect view. Thousands more people were watching the streams each camera fed to their respective network.

While Jameston checked the equipment setup, a particularly audacious reporter aimed their camera to hover beside him. “Sir, do you have any comments on this monumental event before you begin?” asked the tinny voice coming from its speaker.

He gave it a disgusted look. “If you’re looking for soundbites, feel free to replay the director’s interview from last week. And keep cameras away from the operating areas at all times. I don’t need to remind you of the malfunction a few months back that left States Station 14 in shambles.” There were still vultures picking at the ruins of that bankruptcy.

The camera backed off. Behind him came the rapid clicks of Director Meriau’s heels, no doubt swooping in to catch the attention of the camera crews and smooth out their PR.

“Please excuse Doctor Jameston,” called out Meriau. “He claims his expertise is in the operating room and isn’t fond of people who can talk back.” A weak chorus of laughter erupted.

Jameston scoffed.

“Moreover!” she continued. “We are embarking on a new frontier, not in space or the wilderness but here in our very cities. This surgery was only approved after extensive testing and trials in our efforts to further the well-being of our species. At our current amount of development only certain demographics are eligible, but the treatment is sure to be safe…”

Jameston let the salesman-style spiel wash over him and worked on double checking all preparations. He didn’t know how she had the energy to fake such intense vigor and enthusiasm, but Meriau could talk for ages if given the chance. 

He met Nurse Zheng’s eyes past the operating room’s smartglass. They nodded to confirm that the team was done with preparations within the surgical area. Both the donor and the patient had been set up on their monitoring surgical beds, bodies flushed of foreign matter and carefully given custom mixtures of anesthesia.

He could also feel the team’s disdain for the audience watching them, but there was nothing to be done. If anything went wrong today, their current lack of resources would make the next few years difficult to survive. A success on this scale would bring in much greater resources that they dearly needed, but any sort of failure would have them remembered as the hospital who gambled to defeat biology and lost.

Jameston pushed open the door to the decontamination chamber.

-----

Even with the assistance of autopilot nanotech scalpels and wound-sealing nanomites, the experimental procedure was a complex team effort that took over two hours. By the end of it, the recipient's original body had greatly degraded. Even if something had gone wrong, there was no going back. It was only a question of whether they would lose one life or two today.

The donor had been a formerly athletic young man named Timothy Sarkovich, who had become comatose due to severe brain damage. He had offered his body for medical advancements shortly before being pronounced braindead.

The operated-on patient, Antonio Ramirez, was one of many old, rich benefactors who had patronized their hospital. Jameston knew his will had even more money designated to them in the case this surgery went wrong, but money unfortunately wasn’t the main resource they needed. If he died, the situation was one powderkeg away from imploding once his will became public.

It had taken multiple trials to find someone compatible with the donor’s body down to its antibodies, and even further tests to make sure the body wouldn’t reject the patient anyway. Due to the nature of this treatment, relying on anti-rejection medication was unviable; only a perfect match would do for both the patient and the hospital’s PR.

As the nanomites flushed the remaining anesthetics out of the patient’s new body, it began to stir. Jameston lowered the strength of the false lungs and external heart, making sure Ramirez had begun breathing for himself once again.

It appeared the takeover was a success, but there was no telling how well it had worked until the man had woken up fully and began controlling his new body.

While nanomites continued closing the last of the surgical wound with artificial skin, Jameston monitored the patient’s vitals. He could tell Ramirez was beginning to stir.

The world outside held its breath.

Slowly, gradually, Ramirez sat up, as if his arthritis and old age had followed him to the younger body. Jameston had no idea if it was a facade or genuine.

He gestured to signal the others to discreetly remove the original, nearly deceased body. Best not to draw attention to it. “How are you feeling?” he asked the patient.

“Like someone cut my head off,” creaked Ramirez’s voice. He shook his head. “How long am I supposed to stay down?”

“The nanos should have healed everything internally, but it would be safest if you took at least a week of rest,” Jameston said, mostly for the benefit of the viewers. Ramirez didn’t look at him while he spoke, which was somewhat irritating, but the man was already aware of this information; they had gone over the procedure and expected recovery multiple times beforehand. “For the moment, I would like you to try to walk around to be sure the nerves have connected properly,” he added.

Slowly, but gaining speed, Ramirez began to get up from the bed. Jameston stood by his side in case the transfer had disoriented him.

Though Jameston didn’t care about appearances—one of the hospital’s specialties was extreme cosmetic surgery—the murmur coming from the crowd watching them through the glass reminded him the average person watching was likely unnerved by the contrast of Ramirez’s ancient white hair and wrinkled face sitting atop the young and once-handsome body. He said quietly, “If you like, we can offer an immediate facelift and full hair restoration in private.” Despite his low volume, he knew the cameras would catch and caption his words.

“No, thank you,” said Ramirez, still not looking back at him. “I don’t need any plastic surgery.”

Jameston leaned back in surprise. Ramirez had been one of their most frequent “customers”; he was well aware of the benefits of making an appointment with a paper trail.

“This body feels strong and healthy, far more than the previous one,” Ramirez continued, flexing his arms.

 Jameston felt the creeping awareness that something was wrong.

Despite his misgivings, the formerly old man had started walking out, and Jameston had no choice but to follow him.

The glass door was pushed out of their way. Without the transparent barrier, the crowd’s uttering was much louder than Jameston had expected. It was clear that their team was making waves, but he was no longer sure if they were good ones.

He met Director Meriau’s eyes and tried to convey the feeling that she should be cautious. Her cheery expression dropped a fraction.

Ramirez was already walking towards the stage’s exit and Jameston barely managed to clap a hand on his shoulder before he left the viewing area. He sensed a shock of fury, then impatience, before Ramirez turned his head.

“What is it?” the man snapped.

Jameston opened his hands, pretending to be helpless. “I’m sorry, but we need to confirm the donated body is working well,” he said. Ramirez should have been aware of this too. Jameston hated repeating himself, but it was safer to pretend it was unplanned if his patient didn’t want to cooperate. Suggesting that the procedure had somehow decreased the patient’s mental facilities so that he needed a reminder would be as bad as an outright rejection.

Ramirez turned to him fully.

“Please stretch out both arms and bend forwards towards the ground,” he said.

For a moment, he thought the other man would attack him. 

Ramirez eventually obliged and spread his arms open wide, glaring at Jameston.

A sudden buzz swept through the air before he dropped like a sack of flour. Jameston froze for a second, hearing wheezing and coughing coming from the now prone man. He was horrified to see the man claw at the place where the surgery had sealed him back together. In that distress, Ramirez’s facial features looked like they were melting.

Thinking quickly, he hauled the patient up against his shoulder, braced his body like the other man needed his support, and walked briskly towards the operating room, dragging the near-limp body along.

From the side of his eye he saw Director Meriau make the hand signal to shut everything down and the security to usher the public out immediately. She met his eyes before he closed the now-opaque smartglass door.

Jameston hauled the man that he had thought was Ramirez onto the surgical bed and turned on the diagnostics tools. Frustrated rage welled up in him.

As the programs booted back up, Meriau entered the room. “What’s the problem, Jameston?” she asked, her cheery facade now gone in favor of cold pragmatism. Her eyes raked over the shuddering body and its horror movie-like facial features before pinning him.

“There’s absolutely no reason this should be happening,” he said. “We’d already confirmed a partial graft of the patient onto the donor body before.” He lifted one of the man’s hands to display the grafted finger. The attachment location was invisible, with no scars to be seen, and it was behaving as expected of a finger. Not so the man’s head.

“Put me back,” croaked Ramirez’s voice. His head had stretched itself out grotesquely, draping past the headrest of the surgical bed.

Both Meriau and Jameston ignored him. Meriau asked, “Are we certain neither this host body nor the patient body had complications?”

“I double checked the preparations,” said Jameston. He gestured towards Zheng’s team, who were ignoring the ruckus in favor of making notes and tidying the room. “They did everything right. The only reason this would happen is if the body is rejecting him.”

Meriau narrowed her eyes. “And the only reason he would be rejected is if this isn’t the Parasite we picked.”

Jameston nodded. The distressed mental waves of the dying Parasite was distracting, but he was more concerned about the fallout. An impatient imposter stealing Ramirez’s place had set them back years.

While Parasites had done “head transplants” to themselves in secret, this was the first transplant in human awareness. They had hoped the fame would bring in more “donor bodies”, as other places would be unable to successfully copy it without the awareness that it only worked for their species. The fact that their very existence was considered a 21st century folk tale made the discerning hospital’s choices of patients seem almost random.

Not all of them were lucky to have picked a young, healthy body at the beginning, and even the youngest and healthiest of them were approaching their expiration dates. They would need many new bodies to find matches without the deadly risk of rejection.

Their species, unable to multiply, was dying out.

Meriau stared down at the Parasite who had taken Ramirez’s place. “You should have waited,” she said. “Is the original dead?”

“Let me back,” it groaned. Its voice was no longer human.

“There is no going back,” said Jameston. “Your stolen body is dead.”

“If you answer our questions, we may find you a new host,” Meriau told it. Jameston looked at her, surprised as always that she could lie without a single flicker in her signal.

It groaned again. “Killed it last night. Saw transplant planned. My body was dying.”

Meriau let out a human-like sigh. “Had you not taken over its host, we could have transferred you more safely,” she said honestly. “But you have complicated our plans.” Her hair merged into a shining blade, as clean and sharp as any scalpel. “For the crime of self-destructive impatience, I sentence you to death.”

The Parasite shrieked and twisted to defend itself, but Meriau easily bisected its sluggish tentacles and decapitated it fully.

Without saying anything, Jameston sent the dormant nanomites to cap off the bleeding of the host. If they were lucky, it was still salvageable as a host or spare parts for another one of them. Unfortunately, it had likely degraded a great deal due to the stress of the usurper and the long-term lack of a proper controlling brain.

The pieces of said usurper he left to wither away on the floor. Even dying parts were capable of small bodily invasions, which would be troublesome to purge. It was best to wait until it was fully dead.

Cynically, he compared its feeble struggling to how their species was doomed to die no matter how much they stretched their lifespan.

Meriau stood next to him. “Is there a way to salvage the PR problems from this?” she asked almost rhetorically. She looked down at the remains of their years of work, and nudged a piece that had stopped twitching with her shoe.

No human expression showed on her face, but he could sense the resignation from her.

“You know that’s your job,” he said. No doubt she could sense the frustration in him as well. It was echoed by the others around them; they felt of anxiety, anger, irritation, despair, and more.

“I was hoping you had thoughts,” her voice said. His senses said she hadn’t expected anything otherwise.

Jameston shook his head. It was easy to get lost in the collective murmur, but he didn’t have the luxury to do so when they had to face the media soon. They needed to seem as normal as they could. “Other than cleaning this mess up and finding someone compatible, I’m as lost as you.”

“Into the slavering maw of humanity together, then,” Meriau said as she exited the glass room.

[laurel-kathleen]

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A post shared by Laurel Kathleen Barrett (@outa_control_saturn)

When your #drone decides to point the wrong direction in the middle of your recording you get to make a #grandentrance. #spinpretty #havehoopwillspin #travel #gratefulhoopers #hoolahoop #hoopaddict #hoopdance #hooper #hoopersofcolorado #hoopingdotorg #flowmiesofearth #sacredcircle #coloradospringshoopcollective #flowfriends #hoopjam #hoopersofig #hoopersofinstagram #hooplife #perpetualflow #hoopspam #travelinghooper #hovercamera #passport (at Colorado Springs, Colorado)

[gabyglifestyle]

#playing with the #hovercamera #lifeatvillaforte #sunday #lifeonthepurplelane #domingao (at Itaipava, Rio De Janeiro, Brazil) https://www.instagram.com/p/BsT4237A1rS/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=1awb79ccv83yo

[089dj]

Die Sonne genießen 😎 http://perkins.photo #perkins #amazing #photography #foto #fotograf #münchen #picoftheday #seeitfirst #hovercamera #drohne #bayern (hier: Perkins Photo Munich)

[arcphotographics]

[xink3r]

‪I took a shot by myself with drone cam in the space where I worked. ‬

[thunderboltdrones]

Economical Drone Rental Services

Not everyone wants to buy a drone. Many do not want to get into the hassle of storing it safely and maintaining it. Several companies have used this fact to their advantage and have offered drones for rent for a specified time. The prices and the models vary. So do the time allowed. Following are listed some of the companies offering economical prices for drone rental services.

Doheny Drones

Doheny Drones offers its drones for mostly commercial purposes. The company provides two types of rentals: short and long term. They even provide a certified operator with the drones. Moreover, it also helps the user company to transition from renting the drone to owning it.

Cameralends in New-York

This company offers rental drones for entertainment purposes. Company provides rental of DJI Plantom 4, Plantom 3, and Plantom 2 Quadcopter.

Aerials Company

The company, stationed in Los Angeles, provides professional drones pilots (cameras which include the 6k Red Epic Dragon, Alexa Mini, Sony A7s, and GoPro Hero 4.), experienced camera operators (company trained pilots) and custom built drones (these drones can fly with weights up to 20 pound dedicated for commercial projects).

HoverCameras

This company, also from Los Angeles, provides rental drones for local as well as for regional use. They are even willing to go international when and if need arises. The drones are flexible in the sense that they are willing to take any shot required be it super close or super wide, be it low or high crane shots.

SkyeCamCompany

This is another company from Los Angeles. This company provides aerial drones and photography services in the heart of Hollywood. Apart from drones are radio controlled multi-rotor aircraft which give almost unlimited options for unique angles and camera movement without the limitations of full size helicopters. Company's workers also have great experience, engineering skills, extensive knowledge and piloting skills as well as the ability to fly all types of drones and cinematic cameras. More help thunderbolt drones

Zaw Studios

Company provides drones as rentals for making videos and movies for commercial purposes only. Company also offers the service of its own pilots who are well-skilled in film making and photography. This company also resides in Los Angeles.

Drone Dudes Company

They are a prolific team of aerial cinematography specialists and technicians. The professional company not only provides drone as rentals but also its own professionals for making footage in hard to reach places. The staff also specializes in the use of remote control cars that allow for amazing tracking shots and precise motion capture. Their decade of leadership in live action motion cinematography is what makes them one of the best.

Blue Skies Company

The company provides drones in any location in the USA. Additionally, company provides equipment and own professionals. Also the company has discounts for regular customers. Services included are film making, aerial photography for a variety of occasions, advertising client's brand by handing a sign to a drone rental. Choosing a drone is as easy as going to the site, clicking on it and adding it to cart. Payment is through PayPal. A deposit before has to be paid though. The payload capacity is as follows:

· 2 lb for the Phantom 2 Vision Plus

· 3 lb for the Phantom 3 Pro

· 9 lb for the S900

DIY drones rental in Seattle.

The company provides next series of drones: ZigBee, WAAS, UAV, Thermopile, SVN, Sketch, SiRF III, Shield, RTL, ROI, PWM, PPM, POI, PID, PIC, PCM, OSD, NMEA and others. Some of the drones have the capability of autonomous flight, without a pilot on ground or in command center in control. They are non-military and non-commercial. They typically fly for "recreational" purposes as long as the pilots/programmers keep them within tight limits on altitude and distance. Usually the UAV is operated manually by the Radio Control (RC) mechanism at take-off and landing and is switched into GPS-guided autonomous mode only at a safe altitude.The DIY Drones community has created the world's first "universal autopilots", ArduPilot Mega (APM) and its similar but technically advanced Pixhawk. They combine sophisticated IMU-based autopilot electronics with free autopilot software that can help any RC vehicle in transitioning from an RC vehicle to a fully-autonomous UAV.

[yamasen]

ic! berlin Hubert #icberlin #sunglasses #eyeware #hovercamera (眼鏡専門店YAMASEN ヤマセングラスワークス)

[coldgrove-blog]

The Hover Camera - $499.95 Hire a photographer with wings or have a Hover Drone follow you around taking 4K/13MP pictures/videos and sending them directly to your phone #camera #selfiecamera #parrot #hovercamera #finephotography #4K

[rhythmcontrol]

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A post shared by Richard B Weglarz (@weglarznation)

#queenmary #longbeach #hovercamera #passport (at The Queen Mary)

[jusjeruk]

Drone selfie paling keren yg pernah gue coba wkwk Hover Camera Passport #hovercamera #hover #hovercamerapassport #drone punya fitur face detection ama gesture command jadi bisa ngikuti kita dari ketinggian tertentu wkwk berasa kaya ironman ma jarvisnya untung cepet sadar #hampirkalap

[laurel-kathleen]

#sunset chaser. #colorfulcolorado #pikespeak #gardenofthegods #HoverCamera (at Colorado Springs, Colorado)

[avalancheshop]

Hover Camera finally arrived! Lets film and fly! #avalancheproshop #switzerland #cransmontana #hovercamera (at Avalanche Pro Shop)

[pcfans]

什麼無人機適合初學者 入門級航拍無人機推薦

4.HOVERCAMERA小黑俠跟拍無人機HOVER CAMERA小黑俠無人機非常受歡迎，主要定位是娛樂跟拍，採用了可摺疊的設計，242g的重量可以讓你隨身攜帶。

Source

from 新聞 - PCNow https://pcnow.cc/p/1OO0bc4668.html via https://pcnow.cc

[ninibert]

Hovercamera from Damian Velasco on Vimeo.

Creative Director, Relay