<strong>Office of Doctor Steinman</strong><br/><strong>Site #144</strong><br/><br/>The shark snap of rubber echoed in the large empty space as Steinman removed his crimson gloves and set them upon the desk.  In the dim twilight, clad in an impeccably spotless white labcoat, he looked for all the world like a ghost, tall and thin and transient.  His face was uncharacteristically enthusiastic, from the subtle twist of his lips and finely trimmed mustache to the faint glint in his cold gray eyes.  He had seen the results of the scans, and they were beyond anything he could have imagined.  It was completely unlike the ones he had taken nearly one year ago, when<em>Mother</em>was still newly awakened from its birthing chamber.  It had evolved so rapidly that it was only barely recognizable as the same brain.  It was unique, alien, and<em>beautiful</em>in ways that could scarcely be described.  Even now he was unable to find the answer to the question consuming his every thought:<em>Was this evolution spontaneous, or was it a <strong>conscious choice</strong>?</em><br/><br/>Dr. Steinman pressed a hand to his chest and exhaled slowly, the excitement threatening to well up within him.  He could only barely keep a grin from sliding its way up his face.  The very<em>idea</em>was enough to give him palpitations.  A creature that could knowingly force its own physiological development, that could<em>control</em>it and adapt along whatever lines it wanted to!  It was the power of a god, the power to erase all weakness both within and without.  If<em>Mother</em>could change itself, what changes could it make to the rest of the world?  It had already displayed the ability to transmogrify a perfectly healthy human being into a breeding facility.  But that was the instinctual reaction of a mere animal, back when it was still a newborn.  If it was made to fully comprehend this ability, would it not be possible for it to alter that injection to produce whatever changes it desired in a human host?<br/><br/>With a casual gesture the man plucked a scalpel from his coat pocket and twirled it expertly between his knobby fingers.  He watched the way the fading light flashed against the cruel, reflective surface of the blade, then flicked his wrist, embedding the tip in the far wall.  It landed directly in the center of a board plastered with photographs of various scientists and GenCorp employees.  Specifically, it landed directly in the left eye of a certain troublesome woman that had yet to be dealt with.<br/><br/>"Whatever changes it desired..." Steinman muttered breathlessly, gently stroking his thick black goatee.  "Or whatever changes<em>I</em>desire.  Human host.  Control GC-472, control transformative enzymes.  Implant genetic blueprints for GC-473 within GC-472, improving upon its design, removing flaws.  GC-472 restructures enzymes to initiate genetic restructuring of host.  Destruction of old memories; Tabula Rasa.  Result: fully formed specimen of GC-473, 'built to order' in a matter of days, even<em>hours.</em>Surplus funding allocated to other experiments.  Minimized chance of human error.<em>Perfection.</em>"<br/><br/>Steinman paced over to the board, his slender arm whipping towards the handle of the scalpel and grasping it tightly.  He seemed tempted to slash it across the woman's face, but decided against it, instead pulling it from the surface and depositing it back into his coat.  Instead he pressed his thumb to a small, almost invisible pad beside it, causing that part of the wall to flip around and reveal a perfectly normal landscape painting.  The man smiled as the dozens of photographs beside Tamis's, all of them slashed to shreds, silently disappeared from view.