3 A Weak-to-Strong Tale
After seeing Dr. Irvine, Kline's amygdala got cranked up to the max, triggering his fight-or-flight response like a machine gun.
He looked out the window and thought: It's only the second floor. With any luck, I'll leave with eight re:broken bones. 100% better than ending up the protag of an Eli Roth movie.
"As you know, we finally mended your 45 bones, but you'll never walk correctly again." Dr. Mathers said somberly, snapping the teen back into focus.
Kline looked at his bed and remembered that the system was a pipedream. No matter what, he'd be disabled for life. So he was on the fast track to a cynical hermit billionaire lifestyle.
"However, Dr. Irvine's program could mend your body completely and even make you stronger." Dr. Mathers continued.
The teen blinked twice and looked at Sigmund Freud's ghost, whose eyes were trembling with crazed anticipation. Human test subject. Veracity: confirmed.
"Risks." Kline sighed, "Give me the side-effects list on the bottom of the bottle… please."
Dr. Kline's eyes widened in astonishment. "You don't want to hear about the program?"
"It mends bones and can make me stronger, right?" The teen asked rhetorically, "Anything that awesome requires horrifying human testing.
So save me the shill and let me know what I'm looking at."
"Mr. Noble. The program can result in major complications and threaten your life." Dr. Mathers said hesitantly, "For that reason, I normally wouldn't recommend it.
However, you have the golden ratio of qualities, and the benefits are remarkable."
"Thank you, Dr. Mathers." Kline nodded and turned to the mad scientist. "Now, please give me the poor social skills version."
Dr. Mathers winced, but his guest wasn't uncomfortable in the slightest. Immediate death flag.
"Death—obviously." Dr. Irvine began casually, "Blindness, a lifetime of acute suffering, atrophy of every muscle in your body, sexual impotence, brain hemorrhaging, and necrosis. But mostly death; sweet, simple vanilla death."
Kline's face tensed up, and his cheek began twitching violently. He looked at Dr. Mathers, who gave him a look that said [they'd murder my family if I didn't].
He thought about the system that somehow pulled off the workaround. Something that sketchy had costs for others.
However, if he were to trust it, then it meant doing so right then.
"Now that we established it guarantees at least one thing far worse than my current lifelong disability…." The teen sighed, "Elevator pitch. Bad social skills version."
"It would turn you into a super soldier." Dr. Irvine said with slightly clattering teeth, "You'll become better than human. Super strength and rapid healing.
We'll also pay for your medical expenses, you'll get muscles without exercise, and—"
"I'm just a proof of concept guinea pig, right!?" Kline asked in a frenzied state, "Like, it ends if I'm a super soldier or on death's door. I'm not a long-term test subject check-ins, right?"
"Yes, assuming that you're alive, you're free to go." The mad doctor nodded.
"Let's go." Kline said resolutely, "Sign me up. I was hooked on debt removal and sold on exercise-free muscles."
…
[Lithco: you're such a tool. You just expressed regrets about making decisions without thinking about them; then you signed a death liability contract without skim-reading it five minutes later.]
"Lithco, if I thought about accepting this program and signed up anyway, I'd be a fucking idiot." The teen laugh-scoffed mentally, "I'm placing blind trust in the system, so you can't complain about it."
[Lithco: yeah, about that. We're only providing you with advice, resources, and opportunities.
We found a viable solution to an otherwise impossible situation. It's not necessarily in your best interest, and our advice doesn't change your chances of success.
Remember, this system helps you fight back against your luck. It's so bad it intentionally keeps you alive to prolong your misery. That's what the tragedy counter-balance means.]
Kline's eyes widened with panic. "When you put it like that…."
He turned his head to the side to look at Dr. Irvine with the fluidity of a rusty cog. The mad doctor's manic expression told him everything he needed to know about his fate.
He instantly got second doubts. However, the two were in an ambulance with him hooked up to an unknown IV.
Only then did he notice that the IV bag had a sticker that read: [Warning! Unstable Compound. Do not shake.]
Unstable compound!? If you don't know what an [unstable compound] is, let me give you an example—Nitroglycerin. Nitroglycerin. Nitro-fucking-glycerin! If you shake liquid TNT, it'll explode without a match. That's what an unstable compound is!
Kline wasn't a doctor, but he'd bet the farm that people aren't supposed to inject unstable compounds into their bodies!
"When will I stop being stupid?" He thought to himself with a fearful, self-deprecating smile.
[Lithco: Hopefully never. I have a lot of money riding on it, so don't let me down.]
"Must you be so negative all the time?" Kline scoffed bitterly, "There's nothing I can do about it now, and it probably isn't that bad."
[Lithco: Hate to break it to you, half-Chad. It's going to be bad.]
"You're messing with me, aren't you?" Kline thought, rolling his eyes.
[Lithco: No. Unlike you, I read the contract and asked about it.
Oh, and before you ask—just don't. You already denied information, so I can't give it to you.]
The teen blinked multiple times, staring into dead space. "Can you at least tell me how bad it will be, Lithco? Number between 1-10?"
[Lithco: 10. That's only because your scale stops at ten.]
"Whatever. I survived Truck-Kun and broke 45 bones in one fell swoop.' Kline scoffed bitterly, "It can't be much worse than that."
…
—27 Days Later | Skulls Program Research Facility | Location: Unknown—
"Have you ever had a human's spine impale one of your lungs before?
No? Well, I have.
A truck hit a 280-pound man standing beside me so hard his body folded in half. It exposed his spine and skewered me like a medium-rare shish kabob.
Let me tell you: it sucks.
It's worse when it happens right before you break 45 of your bones because you want to scream but can't."
-
[Lithco: Are you really starting your blog post that depressing? I don't doubt you'll be successful, but are you sure you want your target audience to be sex-starved wives who watch Cold Case Files?]
Kline rolled his eyes and continued typing out the blog post on a lab-provided laptop. He was in a completely white room with nothing but a toilet, sink, and twin-sized bed with one pillow.
It was the morning he'd leave, but he wasn't smiling.
-
"However, if I could choose between experiencing that accident five times or the testing program I completed yesterday, I'd thank the merciful truck driver who volunteered for the role."
-
[Lithco: You know what? I rescind my statement. That has a good hook; it's spicy.]
The hopeless virgin took a sharp breath, trying to ignore the AI in the corner of his eye as he continued typing.
-
"My injuries from the accident were so bad that the doctors put me in an experimental program to heal my body. Now, I'm the first human in the world with full regenerative healing.
It's pretty remarkable. My body can regrow broken teeth, heal a kidney underwater, and regenerate an entire human eyeball.
There are limitations. For example, I can't regenerate a whole arm, but it will grow back if I tie 30% of the chainsaw-mangled remains to it.
It's unbelievable but true. I have 281 [more] successful tests that prove it.
Positive? Hah. At this point, I'd be satisfied to get run over by that truck once per day."
-
[Lithco: Viral. Stop and give a value proposition to keep reading, Kline.
It has a 98.7% chance of blowing up with the system's 10,000 daily read guarantee, so don't mess it up.]
Kline stopped typing for a moment and stared at the chat box. After a moment of thought, he took a deep breath and continued.
-
"You want to know what's ironic? I have regenerative healing, but I suffered a millennia's worth of life-changing injuries to get it. So the question is: will I live long enough to make it worth it?
No one knows! My doctor didn't tell me until yesterday that I'm the only person out of fifty subjects to survive the program. You should've seen my face; it was priceless.
It's anyone's guess how long I'll live. My cells regenerate, so my appearance may never change. I may live forever. Or, super healing could create a complication and kill me tomorrow. It's unknown.
Who wants to find out?
I'll be posting blogs regularly under the handle @badluckkline. Drop in, and I'll give you the brutal details."
-
[Lithco: That's killer. Now hit'em with a reason to subscribe.]
Kline's eyebrow twitched violently. He always hated [please subscribe] statements. "If I'm doing that, I'll make it worth it."
-
"Oh! I almost forgot. At 25,000 subscribers, I'll post before and after photos of my body.
They're juicy. Since my regenerative ability removes defects in my DNA, my body heals symmetrically.
Once my doctor learned that he personally meticulously caved in my face with a hammer—now it's perfect.
That's kind of funny, isn't it? It took breaking 45 bones in a truck accident, 285-lifetime injuries, and getting my face caved in with a hammer, but I'm finally dateable. That fact alone proves anything's possible.
Don't believe me? See for yourself at 25k subs.
Sincerely yours, Bad Luck Kline."
-
[Lithco: *sniff* *sniff* Your misery is marking gold.]
Kline chuckled wryly, laced his fingers together, and stretched them out. "At least it's working for me. It sounds shallow, but my appearance is worth the pain."
The teen walked in a lanky, blonde-haired teen with a shaggy haircut, no muscle, and slightly crooked teeth.
Now, he had the body of a greek statue, dazzling white teeth that had never missed a brushing, and flawless skin.
He didn't exaggerate how he got his appearance. Dr. Irvine shredded his muscles daily so they could build back stronger. That's what exercise-free muscles meant. Needless to say, he would've chosen exercise.
However, now he was eighteen and egregiously attractive, and he was pleased with that.
[Lithco: You know, I thought you had made strides with your personality. Turns out, you're just bearable when you don't open your mouth.]
"But that's what's beautiful, right?" Kline grinned, "When I was ugly, staying awkwardly silent was creepy. Now I'm shy and a good guy."
[Lithco: No, you're just a good-looking creep. First impressions are seen through as early as the second impression.]
—
Title: Getting Hit by a Truck Made Me Handsome
Author: Bad Luck Kline | @badluckkline
Status: Unpublished
—
"Whatever, let's just send this thing and get it over with." Kline frowned, moving his cursor to the publish button.
[Lithco: Wait. Before you do, I suggest you remove the lines about you being dateable.]
"Look, Lithco. I get that I'm not a successful Chad, so I'm not an expert on charm." The hopeless virgin frowned, "But I'd place money that line is gold.
It's a rags-to-riches tale that expresses humility through charming self-deprecating and screams [pity fuck me, I'm pretty and worth it] in two lines."
[Lithco: It's just advice. Do as you wish.]
Kline rolled his eyes in annoyance and hit submit.
