Sarah lied at the bottom of a great sea of blackness. She couldn't see her hands or feet. Nothing. But the darkness was tangible. It weighed upon her, holding her down, and enveloping her entire body. However, there was a small circle of light high above her. Somehow, she knew she had to reach it.

She felt a release. She was free, swimming toward the bright circle. The closer she got to the top, the less encumbered she became until she escaped the confines of the dark water and emerged on the surface.

"What did you do to me?" Sarah said as light crept around the edges of her peripheral vision. The first wave of grogginess rolled over her like a tidal wave, her words blending in a drug induced haze. Something smelled like rotten eggs. Nausea churned in her stomach as she nudged up on an elbow, teetering like a drunken sailor, and then collapsed back into a bed. A hand reached across her and grabbed her by the shoulder. Another hand slipped under her head, both working together to raise her high enough to vomit into a plastic pan.

Finally, she released everything she had held back ever since her ride in the hover car. The contents of her stomach poured out, splattering on her chin as she heaved, her abdomen drawing up in a tight spasm. It was mostly liquid, thanks to the fact Wolf hadn't fed her the scrambled eggs and bacon. As those same hands lowered her head and wiped a rag over her mouth and face, Sarah struggled to open her eyes, clawing her way through the mental fog.

"Where am I?" she said. "What happened? What did you do to me?"

"I can assure you," Dr. Curtis Frazier replied, hovering over her, his emotionless face fading in and out of the fog, "we've done nothing to you, except make one minor modification. And you're already healing nicely, I might add."

Sarah eased up in the bed, the room swaying in circles. Her head felt heavy and thick, bobbling on her shoulders. Again, she dropped back into the linen sheets, squeezing her eyelids shut. The reality sank in that she was in a post-op room, her brain analyzing her surroundings and processing the information concerning her whereabouts, and her condition, in slow, methodical increments.

She pried her eyes open gradually, her vision adjusting to the fluorescent lighting. In the recesses of her mind, she calculated whether she should make a run for it. This recent development—being put under anesthesia and being operated on against her will—had blindsided her. They had done something to her, violated her body without permission. If there was ever a reason to run, she had the best one imaginable. But who was she kidding? She wouldn't get far in this state.

Instead of contemplating escape, Sarah went into observation mode. She took in the drab gray walls that surrounded her, noticing there weren't any windows or decorations. Her head rolled to the side. An IV dripped fluids, the line snaking to the fold in her arm below the elbow. She glanced up at Dr. Frazier. Back to the IV. Back to his mop of curly brown hair. Then she remembered their conversation moments before Wolf drugged her.

Her hand flew to the back of her head and located the square patch of gauze at the base of her skull. "Did you put something in my head?"

"An upgrade."

"In my head?"

"She has a tendency to ask stupid questions," a familiar voice said... Wolf walking into the room, the door whispering shut behind him. The dimple in the middle of his chin was smooth with a clean shave.

Dr. Frazier looked his way. "Yes, well, she's undergone extensive brain surgery, so—"

"I thought you said it was minor."

His head swiveled back to Sarah. "The human brain complicates any procedure, but the application was straightforward, an implant connecting to your temporal lobe."

"I'd prefer it if you left my lobes alone."

This drew a smirk from Wolf.

"It's where your brain stores and processes memory," Dr. Frazier said.

"I have one too." Wolf pointed to the back of his head, near the hairline at a flesh-colored circle about the same size as a pencil eraser. A cap covered his implant.

Sarah peeled back the bandage and felt of her neck, sliding her fingertips over her skin until she located the implant on the left side at the base of her skull. "What the?" That's why her head felt like a wobbly spin top.

"You have a hard-wire connection," Dr. Frazier said, "like a headphone jack, a USB or HDMI port of old, or a... you get the picture?"

"Yes. But why? I don't get it." Sarah grimaced and gestured for the men to come to her aid. With their help, she swiveled her legs over the edge of the bed, feeling her world swirl around her as she sat upright.

Wolf's eyes drifted down to her hospital gown that was riding high on her thighs. He stared for a moment, and then adjusted his gaze, making eye contact with Sarah.

A woozy heatwave flushed her cheeks as her fingers scrambled to the bottom hem of her gown, tugging the cotton garment over her knees. Checkered with pale green squares, the thin material stretched long enough for modesty's sake. She huffed at Wolf's wayward eyes. Then, with her legs covered and his gaze diverted, she returned her attention to the man who performed the surgery.

"So, you stuck a device in my head. Why? To keep track of me."

"It fulfills that purpose." Dr. Frazier bit the tip of his tongue, which was odd. It appeared like a habit to occupy his body while his mind contemplated what to say next. "You can't run anymore. You can't remove the implant from your head without killing yourself." He hesitated. "I misspoke. You might survive with your abnormal rate of healing compared to the average human, but it would be messy, leaving you with long-term issues."

At the edge of the bed, Wolf put a hand on Sarah's shoulder.

She shrugged it off. "Hello. The last thing I want right now is to be touched."

"Just trying to help you stand."

"I can manage on my own, thank you." When Sarah placed her bare feet on the tile floor, she shivered. The chill rushed through her body and made her teeth chatter. "This place is freezing. Can't you turn up the heat?"

"You're still recovering from surgery," Dr. Frazier said. "You'll warm up soon enough."

Wolf addressed Dr. Frazier. "Why don't you tell her the real reason for the implant? So it doesn't make us look like a bunch of heartless fiends."

"Too late for that," Sarah said.

Before Dr. Frazier could respond, a nurse entered the room with a wheelchair and guided her into the seat. Sarah didn't object to the help. Maybe it was because the nurse had no part in bringing her here. The woman seemed like a caring person with a warm smile, but she worked for them, which gave Sarah cause for concern.

Dr. Frazier and Wolf followed the woman as she pushed Sarah out of the room and into a long hallway void of color and life. Pale gray walls with black baseboard trim stretched down the corridor. At the end, a set of double doors reflected a faint glare of the dim lighting.

"Concerning the surgery, we don't intend to track you like an animal, Dr. Lawson. May I refer to you as a doctor?"

"You may."

"Splendid." Dr. Frazier smiled, sheepish. "The implant can impart knowledge and skill to you in ways never possible before."

Sarah thought about the article she had read about zapping a book into the human brain. What would be the point of that? There would be no enjoyment gained from ingesting an entire novel, plot, climax and all, in one fell swoop. She assumed the admiral had much more in mind, likely something far more devious.

They reached the end of the hall as Dr. Frazier continued, "We're taking you for your first brain download, Dr. Lawson. We have twenty-five-years' worth of research that may assist you in developing the serum."

Wolf said, "See. It's all for a noble purpose."

Sarah cut her eyes toward him but remained silent.

Wolf placed his palm on a scanner and the doors unlocked, and they entered the lab where earlier he had stuck Sarah in the neck with a syringe. Dr. Frazier showed her over to an area in the center of the room.

They had never left the thirteenth subfloor.

Sarah reclined in something akin to a dental chair, only this chair had a set of cushioned clamps on each side of her face that held her neck straight. The headrest had a hole that allowed Dr. Frazier to plug her up to the memory station. She had no recollection of when the machine started. One second, he was talking to her, asking her a string of questions, and then she became lost in a dreamlike state.

The memory download flashed through her mind like a video in fast forward, but it resonated deeper, seeping into every crack and crevice of her brain. It started with a medical textbook—an actual paper bound one—burning streams of data into her subconsciousness. Images of doctors in surgery appeared, followed by scalpels, blood vessels, a cardiovascular system, the human heart beating in rhythm, and the neurological processes of the brain with synapses firing electrical impulses of energy, all-in rapid-fire fashion.

The cinema of the mind played out as if Sarah had experienced it firsthand. She felt it like an intense dream. She heard it too. Ambient background noises. Pages flipped. Pencils scribbled notes. The human heart pounded in her ears like it was her own. Instructors passed down knowledge in classroom environments, and she learned at a lightning pace, drawing in multitudes of information by the Terabyte—one million times one million in vast quantity. But oddly enough, the process didn't feel mind rattling or forced, but smooth and natural. The flow of information connected with her neural pathways, syncing perfectly with her brain. She didn't lose or miss anything. She learned it all.

When Dr. Frazier unplugged her from the memory station, the download ceased, like going from a starburst to a black hole. No sight. No sound. Nothing.

Then someone turned on the lights and the sound. Sarah's eyes fell over the white-walled laboratory—equipment and worktables sprawled out across a tiled white floor. The sanitized ivory surfaces gleamed in the overhead lamps that hung from, yes, a white ceiling. The glare was blinding for a few intense seconds like bright sunlight reflecting off snow.

For a moment, it seemed as if she had plummeted from the soundless and lightless vacuum of space back to an environment with an atmosphere. Re-entry. Or better yet, disconnection from a mainframe.

Dr. Frazier unplugged the cord from her skull, released the clamps from her head, and then moved the reclining chair back to an upright position. Wolf offered Sarah a hand, and she didn't resist this time, standing on shaky legs. Soon, her balance returned, and she beheld the laboratory, the same one she had visited before the surgery.

A white electron microscope with black knobs and dials caught her eye first. It occupied a table to her right. Sarah started for the instrument, but Dr. Frazier pointed toward the back of the lab where an ultra-high-definition screen filled the wall.

"Computer. Begin instructional video TX-Bio-347." He turned to Sarah. "You'll get this later in a download, but the conventional way is easier in the beginning. We don't want to force feed you too fast. Besides, it's a cool video presentation."

The monitor lit up with a brilliant ocean blue color ensued by a low bass introductory note of music. For theatrical effect, subwoofers thrummed in the ceiling.

A great barracuda swam across the screen, swishing its tailfin in a natural motion that propelled the fish through the water. Sarah watched it disappear at the edge of the display. After that scene, a much larger fish with the same shimmering scales and blotchy spots burst into view. In size, the presentation compared this one to a female great white shark—a graphic of the metric system appeared beside the giant creature—displaying the length of the new fish at six meters, over eighteen feet long.

"That," Dr. Frazier said, "is a great barracuda as well, but with one enormous difference..."

"I know," Sarah replied. "I was there in the flesh, rescued my future husband from one of them. They injected human growth hormone into its pituitary gland, causing its abnormal size. Then they drew the serum from the gland and synthesized it in a lab."

"The Ocean Blue Corporation was to blame for the science behind the serum, which dates back to the early years of the millennium. They were the first to produce the serum, as you so well know. Then we got our hands on it and later recruited you to work on the space station to improve upon it."

"But you couldn't keep me."

"No. But we have you now." He gestured to the screen. "There's more."

Next, a large shark emerged from what looked like a cold greenish hue of water. A female voice in the video identified the creature as a Greenland shark, measuring in at over twenty feet. The shark's battered and grayish skin almost blended in with the surrounding sea, reminding Sarah of a giant, stubby cigar.

Wolf spoke up, "Scientists believe the Greenland shark can live to be over two hundred years old."

"Because of its slow metabolism in the frigid waters of the Arctic," Dr. Frazier added. "Our research leapfrogged off the data we got from Ocean Blue. But we need to perform extensive tests on the Greenland species and isolate the cells that regenerate at rapid rates. We also need to narrow down specific DNA markers that produce its longevity of life, and then transfer that to a human being, a different task altogether. But one we believe you're up for."

The next creature to appear on the monitor was a jellyfish, small compared to the shark, but transparent and glowing with pulsating lights.

"Turritopsis dohrnii, the immortal jellyfish." Dr. Frazier smiled. "The life form begins as a polyp on the ocean floor, then its cells transform it into a mature jellyfish. But the most interesting aspect of their biology is that they never die. It's quite an amazing feat of nature. They simply revert to a polyp again, cells rewinding the hands of time. Finally, they return to maturity again. They live forever." He turned to the screen. "Computer. End the video."

The display morphed into a white wall like the other partitions in the room.

"And then there's you," Wolf said.

Sarah bit her lower lip and folded her arms.

"You basically have a Ph.D. as a medical doctor now," Wolf continued, "a neurosurgeon, to be exact. Add that to your doctorate in marine biology, and you can make quick headway in your research on the serum. But I think the first place you should start is with your own DNA code. There's something unique about you, Sarah. And you need to figure out what that is."

"Sorry to disagree with you, Doctor Wolf," she said with a smirk, making him frown, knowing he obviously wasn't a doctor, "but I think the priority on my to-do-list is to get samples from a Greenland shark. After that, the jellyfish, and then my code. First, I gather all the samples and the information they provide, and then I turn the microscope on me. If I'm going to do this, I'm going to do it my way."

"But I think you should—"

"Do we have an understanding?"

Wolf soured up like he had bitten into something awful. "Very much so."

Dr. Frazier cleared his throat. "After your work on the serum, you will receive downloads on the microgravity part of the mission. Things have changed technologically since you were last in space."

"That's my territory, Dr. Frazier," Wolf said. "In addition, after we wrap up the research, you get to help Admiral Jax select the participants. The crew, if you will. Your crew of astronauts. You're the one risking your life. The admiral trusts your judgement."

"Then off I go in search of a Greenland shark."

"No. Off we go."