Author Topic: BCP Records: Hart, Sylvia (Read 416 times)
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BCP Records: Hart, Sylvia
« Sept 20, 2009 18:30:59 GMT -6 » 		Quote
Grade Growth
Current Rank: Private

STR: F
DEX: F
CON: F
WIS: E
|-Points Used: 1 of 12-|
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Thread List

Threads that deal with Sylvia's storyline are color-coded according to the Story Progression Section. Threads that deal with another character's story are Yellow. Threads that deal with the CVC Storyline are Red. Threads that are finished carry parts of the Companion Story, which delves into greater depth from the viewpoint of another character.
  • First Meeting: Sylvia meets Anthony James Cook at John C. Fremont. Narrated by Selena.
  • Fruits & Falcons: Sylvia meets Dagny Uy Phong, Ari Karamzov, and Roth O'Roak and helps steal an African Gray Parrot. Narrated by Alicia.
  • Out On the Courts: Sylvia meets Connor Dwyre in the Campus Grounds Basketball Courts. Narrated by Setsuna. [FINISHED]
  • Collapse: Sylvia attends an massive assembly called by Staff Sergeant Max Fightmaster. Narrated/Attended by Alicia.
  • Understanding the Inevitable: [Continued from Out on the Courts]. Narrated/Attended by Selena.
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Story Progression
Prologue
Chapter One
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Miscellaneous Links
Character Sheet
NPC Directory
Companion Story
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Below will be all of the closed threads organized within each post (or more if necessary) representing each chapter. They will be written in Third-Person Limited, but may also incorporate First-Person POV depending on the characters involved. For continuity, the events that take place occur in secrecy; no one knows of this unless specified in the post.

« Last Edit: Nov 19, 2009 8:03:49 GMT -6 by hart » Back to Top  
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BCP Records: Hart, Sylvia
« Oct 25, 2009 10:55:31 GMT -6 » 		Quote
~Chapter One~

~The Price of a Dream

A lone man sat in his office, browsing through several documents from past research projects, scanning through with veiled curiosity and sentimentality, grinning at the naivety of his younger years. He was such an avid researcher back then, full of hope and idealism, thoughts of fame and recognition for his work, and the dream of helping all of humanity constantly went through the mind of that young man. His hypothesis was believed to be full-proof, that it had to exist.

That was when reality set in for him.

There was no gene that solely regulated behavior; nothing more than a failed hypothesis. He believed he found it, something that could help treat people’s behavior at a more fundamental level, its root cause, rather than treating symptoms of depression or anxiety with maintenance drugs. But when further research crippled that hypothesis, that his proposed gene was discovered to be nothing more than a accessory, his high idealism sank to pessimistic expectations. He could not face his colleagues after promising that discovery, and he shrank back to his laboratory.

That was back then, however.

He filed all of his past papers onto the side, tying them together for his records of past achievements, until he came onto a paper that he authored, one that won him the Nobel Prize in the field of Science in that year.

It was regarding a special gene that encoded a protein responsible for regulating cell communication within nerve tissues. It affected the sensitivity of nerve cells to stimuli and could either increase or decrease their response. The protein was named after him and he received the recognition his younger self wanted along with grant money to continue further research.

The award didn’t mean much to him and he simply piled it along with everything else; it was just another part of his past, just another achievement in his life. And that was it.

A phone call came.

He grabbed the phone with practiced efficacy; a skill he earned when he was in high school, earning minimum wage by servicing customer problems with their computers.

“This is Dr. Rahjad speaking.”

“Have you picked up the envelope?”

That voice. He recognized it. It was the one who wanted hired him due to his prize-winning discovery.

“Yes. I did. I’m glad to see that it’s working on subject A03. What surprised me was the combination of antidepressives with several other experimental medications. The side effects were expected, but I am quite surprised it worked.” He answered.

“Why are you surprised? It sounds as if you didn’t expect it to work at all.”

“Of course not.” He said, walking over to the nearby window, “Testing a treatment with a subject known to have a serious history of depression as well as other neurological disorders, I’m surprised the subject hasn’t rejected the medications during the course of treatment. The level of drugs in A03’s body is beyond the normal level for adults.”

“That is no cause for concern. After all, you are the one that has made this all possible.” His employer spoke, “Also, thanks to you, we’ve been able to safely determine which drugs have been most effective in suppressing neurological activity.”

“But a clinical trial is needed before we can put this before the FDA.” He stated objectively, “We should consider an experiment on a group of people of varying ages with differing physiological and psychological profiles instead of relying on subject A03.”

“I’ll take that into consideration, doctor.”

He sighed heavily into the phone.

“I'll contact you in a few weeks. However, there is something I need to inform you of. It’s about certain members of the project who’ve decided to risk everything we’ve done for their own personal gain. It seems they have allowed their personal opinion to overtake their professional judgment.”

“...what do you want me to do?”

“A solution is already forthcoming, doctor. However, it was necessary to inform you in case you met with grave difficulties. Still, all you need to do is to focus on your work. If everything pulls through, you will be more than just rich and famous. Doctors and scientists will be referring to your work for years to come. Think of this as an investment that is worth more than what money can offer.”

“I will. Thank you.”

“I’ll contact you again. Please continue with your work, doctor.”

The line closed and he returned the phone back to its base, heaving out a sigh as he leaned back on the recliner. He stared at the stack of papers tied together on his desk, then at the photograph of his family nearby. He placed the photo face-down on the desk, and placed the stack in a box filled with papers, and closed it tightly.

He thought back to his employer’s warning.

“I wonder how long it’ll be before it’s my turn?”
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« Last Edit: Nov 3, 2009 20:18:08 GMT -6 by hart » Back to Top  
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BCP Records: Hart, Sylvia
« Oct 25, 2009 10:56:37 GMT -6 » 		Quote
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