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"No, but it's functionally the same thing. I assume yours survives unsuspended because it's bonded to the bugs, or... the larger mysteries will probably escape us." She tosses her goggles onto the low-slung table. "The point is, this is good— we don't need any pain-in-the-ass extractions. The goo <span class="mu-i">should</span> just feed off it directly."
"Oh?" you say suspiciously. "Feed off it?"
"That's what it does, <span class="mu-i">Charlotte.</span> It reacts to the blood's suspended C.O.S. and tries to mimic it. But it's the C.O.S. that does it, not the rest of the liquid, other than lending to absorption— but that's not relevant here."
You scratch at the settee. "Could you say all that with normal person words?"
"I am going to take Bug Man," says Pat, "and dunk all of him in a vat of goo, and he is going to come <span class="mu-i">out</span> of that vat of goo with a body that fits his ko— his sense of self. I don't know what the hell that is, so I take no responsibility there. That's it."
"I-I-It's <span class="mu-i">that</span> easy?" Gil sounds offended. "You stuck me with needles just for <span class="mu-i">that?</span>"
You're with him, but Pat just raises her eyebrows. "Uh, you're damn lucky I did? It was this or <span class="mu-i">more</span> needles, champ, and more needles would've been my first instinct."
«Charlie.»
"I-I-If you say so..." Gil rises from the table and retreats back toward you. "So... when is the next part happening? I-is it now, or in a little while, or—"
"I don't see why not now? The sooner this wraps up, the better." Pat stands, jerking her thumb over her shoulder. "The vats are down the hall."
And so they are. You follow her down the hallway— if possible, it's even <span class="mu-i">more</span> poorly decorated— and emerge through a bland door into a room full of pipes and open vats and a strong smell of ammonia. That's absolutely all you can say about it. You're beginning to think that Pat, for all her good traits(??), was not gifted with a powerful imagination.
You have no idea what differs one vat from another, but Pat leads you and a clouding Gil over to one in the second row. It's unmistakably full of goo. "Okay," she says.
«Charlie, primrose. There's something—»
"Okay?" Gil says. "I-I-Is there anything else—"
"No. Just head on in." She pauses. "Maybe visualize the body. It couldn't hurt."
"...Um, sure." Gil flits above the vat. "I-I-I can do that. Couldn't hurt."
"You can do it," you say helpfully. "Positive thinking! You can't <span class="mu-i">drown,</span> I'm pretty sure, you already— I mean, you did that once, and it didn't stick, so—"
«Charlie, his self-image is beetles. Remember? It was altered as part of the process.»«I'm not certain this'll work out completely how you—»
Damnit! "No!" you say. "No! Nevermind! Wait!" But Gil's already geared himself up, and he's already plunging, and as you dash to the edge of the vat Pat's muttering something about a crazy bitch. Beetles run through your open fingers and vanish into the sucking goo.
(4/5)
