The first step was done, with the paperwork signed. The three-month extension was officially logged, and the subsidies were reinstated, putting a lot of things back to normal and the way it should be. I wondered how long do I have to keep cleaning his mess, luckily each of his mistake become a place where I learned a lot of things in personal and let me understand this world better. Walking out of the building Cathy was waiting by the van, her expression a familiar map of maternal concern. It softened into a warm, relieved smile when she saw my face.
"Everything go alright, sweetie?".
"Better than alright," I said, offering her a reassuring grin.
"It's handled… Extension granted, and our subsidies has been reinstated... Miss Reis is… very efficient."
"That's one word for it," Cathy chuckled softly, a note of tension leaving her shoulders. She opened my door for me.
"There's one more thing, though. Before the donation. She wants a quick word with you. A consultation, she called it."
I slid into the passenger seat. "Oh that, she told me about it, and give me this card and told me to go to the medical wing…where is that?"
"Click! Oh, the medical wing is not that far, just around the block..." Cathy's take the card from me and tapped it on the car navigation screen. I nodded my head and Cathy drove with away.
We drove the short distance to a more medical-looking annex of the GMRD complex. From the outside it looked like a hospital, and from the inside it was definitely a hospital to me, the environment shifted from stark bureaucracy of the previous office, to quiet and clinical vibes.
This time, Mom accompanied me inside. We were led by a silent attendant into a small consultation room—softer lighting, two comfortable chairs, a low table. A viewscreen was set into the wall, currently dark. Mrs. Reis was already there, standing by the window, a data-slate in her hand. She turned as we entered.
"Mr. Hardcox… Mrs. Hardcox. Please, sit." Her voice was its usual crisp, professional self, devoid of warmth but equally devoid of any personal malice. She was a functionary, and this was a function.
We sat. Cathy perched slightly forward, her hands clasped, while I leaned back, adopting a relaxed but attentive posture. Miss Reis remained standing, a picture of impeccable authority.
"The documents you signed pertain to your compliance with the immediate mandate… This meeting is to ensure you possess a complete understanding of the strategic rationale behind the government's significant investment in your case… Since you have chosen to willfully ignored your duty before….".
She tapped her data-slate and the viewscreen on the wall illuminated, displaying a stunningly complex, colorful genetic sequence.
"The preliminary analysis of your previous sample has been processed… The results have confirmed your official designation." Her flint-grey eyes met mine, not with a challenge, but with the flat gaze of a scientist examining a remarkable specimen.
"Sael Hardcox, you have been classified as a Priority Class 1 genetic asset…".
I nodded slowly, taking it in. The term was grandiose, but in this world, it was clearly a technical classification. "I see… And what does that designation entail?"
"It is reserved for individuals possessing specific, highly valuable genetic markers," she explained, her pointer finger indicating a section of the DNA strand on the screen that glowed a steady, pristine white.
"First, your genome is entirely free of radiological degradation… You are a pristine template. In our current environment, that is a significant rarity."
"A clean slate, that is…something," I mused, looking at the glowing code that was, apparently, me.
"Precisely. The second marker is of far greater consequence.". Another section of the strand lit up, this one a brilliant, vibrant gold.
"You carry what we designate the Rho-Immune Gene. It is a dominant allele… Any offspring conceived from your gametes will not only be free of radiation damage but will possess a complete and total immunity to radiological poisoning… They will be the healthiest generation this world has potentially ever seen."
A low whistle escaped me. 'That' was a game-changer, that wasn't just fertility; that was a legacy. "Total immunity. That's… impressive."
"The statistical probability of this gene's expression is approximately five hundred thousand to one," Miss Reis stated, her voice a model of clinical precision.
"In our entire district, with a male population of just over three million, you are the only confirmed carrier." Next to me, Cathy gasped softly, her hand flying to her mouth. Her eyes were wide, not with fear, but with a dawning, incredible pride. She looked from the screen to me as if seeing me for the first time.
I, however, felt a profound sense of clarity. The puzzle pieces snapped into place. The immense pressure, the personal case manager, the heavy penalties—it all made perfect, cold, logical sense now.
"That explains the strict protocols," I said, my voice calm and analytical. "The government can't afford to have an asset like that refuse to participate... The investment and the potential ROI are too high."
Miss Reis gave a single, sharp nod of approval. It was the first sign I'd seen that she acknowledged I had a functioning brain. "An accurate assessment… Your full cooperation is met with privilege and support... Refusal, however, cannot be tolerated, the penalties would be applied maximally as a necessary deterrent, a message to the population on the seriousness of our collective survival."
She was laying out cause and effect, not making a threat. I appreciated the clarity. And it made sense that the government hounded me like that.
"However," she continued, and the screen changed to display a graph of social and financial metrics skyrocketing. "Should a child be born confirming this genetic inheritance, your status would elevate from Priority 1 Asset to Proven Case... Your influence and privilege would rival that of the highest echelons of government...".
I leaned forward, elbows on my knees, studying the graph. It was a compelling incentive. Power, security, recognition—everything my old self back on old earth would've wanted. The privileges alone would make anyone in this world live with ease.
"Do not misconstrue this as singular adulation,.." she cautioned, her tone leveling out again. "You are not the only Priority Class 1 male… There are others in other districts... You are a confirmed asset, but you are not yet a proven result, you are an important case file, But just a case file nonetheless…due to your previous track records…"
She tapped the slate and the screen went dark. "This consultation is concluded…. You now have the full operational context; The next phase begins now." She gestured toward the door. "A medical team is waiting for your medical checkups and final pre-donation screening. They are expecting you."
I stood up, feeling utterly steady and calm, thanks to her consultation, I now got the full picture of everything that is going on for me on the government side.
"Thank you for the information, Miss Reis… It's appreciated."
She merely gave another curt nod, already turning back to her data-slate. "Proceed to the medical suite, Mr. Hardcox...".
Cathy looped her arm through mine as we walked out, her grip tight with excitement and awe. "Sael… a Priority Class 1… I always knew you were special."
"Well, even I don't know that I was that special, Mom,". I answered as both of us headed to the medical suite, led by an attendant that were waiting for us outside.
The attendant led us from the cool, informational space of Mrs. Reis's consultation room into a warmer, more clinical environment. The hallway here was a softer shade of beige, the lighting brighter but less harsh. The air carried the faint, clean scent of antiseptic and something vaguely floral, an attempt to soften the medical sterility. We stopped at a door marked 'Pre-Screening Suite 7B'.
Cathy gave my arm a final, reassuring squeeze before the door slid open with a soft pneumatic hiss.
The room was spacious, dominated by a modern examination bed in the center and lined with sleek, humming medical equipment. But my attention was immediately, and entirely, captured by the two women waiting for us.
The doctor turned from a counter, a warm, professional smile on her face. She was stunning. Olive skin, dark eyes that sparkled with intelligence and a hint of mischief, and jet-black hair pulled back in a sleek ponytail that accentuated sharp, elegant features. Her figure was trim and fit, evident even beneath her white lab coat, which she wore unbuttoned over a simple black top and form-fitting slacks. The coat did little to conceal the delightful, perky swell of her breasts or the enticing curve of her hips and buttocks. A nametag read: Dr. Christy Moretti.
"Ah, you must be Mr. Hardcox," she said, her voice a smooth, melodic contralto that seemed to vibrate right through me.
"I'm Dr. Moretti. Welcome." Her eyes appraised me quickly, not as a specimen, but with a flicker of appreciative interest that she made no effort to fully hide.
The second woman, a nurse, stepped forward. She was taller, willowy, with skin the color of rich dark chocolate and eyes that held a warm, knowing glint. Her most striking feature was the magnificent, perfectly shaped afro that framed her face like a crown. Her nurse's uniform was standard issue, but it clung to a slender frame that blossomed into nothing short of a spectacular, jaw-droppingly massive ass. The fabric of her pants strained respectfully over the generous, round hemispheres, promising a bounty that would make a sculptor weep. Her nametag identified her as Nurse Tanya Adebayo.
"Hello, Mr. Hardcox," Nurse Tanya said, her voice a low, honeyed warmth.
"We're here to make sure you're perfectly healthy and ready for your donation today." Her gaze was direct and friendly, lingering on me for a beat longer than strictly necessary.
Cathy, ever the protective hawk, positioned herself slightly between me and them, but her posture was more observant than defensive. She was assessing them as much as they were assessing me.
"It's good to meet you both," I said, my voice calm. The old Seal would have been a stuttering, sweating mess. But for me, it felt like a thrilling current of anticipation, this was a far more interesting form of bureaucracy.
"The first order of business is a basic physical and blood panel," Dr. Moretti explained, her movements efficient and graceful as she prepared a scanner and a blood draw kit.
"Just to ensure there are no underlying conditions… If you could change into the gown on the bed, we'll begin. It opens in the back, I'm afraid…"
"It's fine,". I nodded and stepped behind a modest privacy screen.
I stripped off my t-shirt and jeans, folding them neatly on a small chair. The gown was a simple blue paper garment. I slipped it on, the material whisper-thin and cool against my skin, and tied it as best I could in the back. I emerged feeling slightly ridiculous, the gown gaping open at the back, but the three women in the room didn't seem to notice the absurdity.
Dr. Moretti guided me to sit on the edge of the exam bed. She was close now, and I could smell a faint, enticing scent of jasmine and clean skin. Her fingers were cool and precise as she wrapped a pressure cuff around my bicep and placed a sensor on my finger. Her touch was clinical, and skilled.
Nurse Tanya efficiently took several vials of blood from my arm, her touch just as sure and gentle. "You have good veins," she commented with a smile, her eyes flicking up to meet mine.
The doctor ran a handheld scanner over my torso, its tip emitting a soft blue light. She frowned slightly at the readout. "Well, your vitals are strong. Excellent cardiovascular activity, especially for someone your age. But…" She peered at the data screen.
"You're showing signs of significant nutritional deficiency. Low vitamin D, B12, iron… it explains the pallor and the history of lethargy and frequent illness noted in your file."
She looked at me, her expression a blend of professional concern and personal curiosity. "Your body is a high-performance engine, Mr. Hardcox… You haven't been giving it the right fuel.".
"Old mishaps, doctor," I said shyly. "I've already started adjusting my diet and exercise.".
"Good… See that you continue," she said, her tone approving. She made a note on her data-slate.
"Otherwise, you are perfectly healthy… More than healthy, in fact… Physically, you are an ideal candidate." She set the slate down and smiled. "Now, for the final part of the examination. I need to perform a visual and physical inspection of your genitalia to ensure there are no anatomical concerns that would affect donation. Do I have your consent to proceed?"
"Of course," I said, my voice even. This was the moment. The point where the old Sael's greatest shame would become my… well, my anything but shame.
"Thank you," she said. Her professional demeanor held, but the air in the room thickened palpably. Cathy took a half-step closer. Nurse Tanya, who had been putting away the blood samples, turned, her interest clearly piqued.
Dr. Moretti pulled on a pair of thin latex gloves. "If you could just lie back and open the gown for me, please."
I complied, leaning back on my elbows. The cool air of the room hit my stomach. I untied the single knot at the front of the gown and let the thin blue paper fall away to my sides, leaving me completely exposed from the waist down.
The reaction was instantaneous and utterly satisfying. Dr. Moretti's hands, which had been moving with confident purpose, froze in mid-air. Her sharp, professional intake of breath was loud in the sudden silence. Her dark eyes, previously focused on her task, widened, her pupils dilating as her gaze dropped and locked onto my groin. A deep, warm blush instantly flooded her cheeks, spreading down her neck. Her lips, painted a subtle rose, parted slightly.