BioShock Rapture

“Perhaps it should be! You need not sell out to Sinclair. You could pump up your liquidity by selling shares freely about Rapture. Rapture is still growing! It’s a bubble that will never burst. You will want the capital for investment, Prentice … Ah—here’s our new luxury resort…”

The train slowed as they came into the station near Adonis. Poole, scribbling on his notebook, was somehow aware of Ryan’s scrutiny.

He looked up to see Andrew Ryan frowning at him. Ryan raised an inquiring eyebrow. “You do remember our talk? Nothing unauthorized, Poole.”

Poole swallowed, tempted to point out that Ryan’s heavy hand on Rapture’s newspaper was counter to his talk of freedom. But then Ryan was the major shareholder in the Tribune, and Stanley Poole had never heard of a newspaper that expressed an opinion its owners didn’t like.

“You betcha, Mr. Ryan,” Poole said cheerfully, winking. He rubbed his nose but quickly stopped, knowing it was an irritating mannerism. Man, he’d like to get out from under that hawkish gaze of Ryan’s, get a bottle from Sinclair Spirits and a little sniff-sniff from Le Marquis D’Epoque, that new liquor-and-drug shop over in Fort Frolic. “This branch line, Mr. Ryan—mighty impressive. Quite a view.”

Ryan nodded, his expression becoming neutral. But he kept staring, a look that could be felt like a finger prodding at Poole’s forehead. “I do think I may have some special assignments for you, in time, Poole, if you prove to be discreet. I’ll need someone … very discreet indeed.”

The doors of the train slid open, and Ryan forgot about Poole, turning to clap Prentice on the shoulder, smiling. “The doors were a tad slow to open once we arrived, don’t you think, Prentice? Let’s make them brisker. Let’s keep Rapture moving ahead!”

Medical Pavilion

1949

“Bill, do we have to do this?” Elaine whispered as she lay back on the examining table, awaiting Dr. Suchong. “Why do I have to see these two? I don’t think that Tenenbaum woman is even a doctor. And Suchong—he’s some kind of brain surgeon or something … what does he know about obstetrics?” She smoothed out the hospital gown so it covered a bit more of her pregnancy-swollen belly.

Bill patted her tummy. “The regular doctor was booked up, love. I mentioned to Ryan you were having some unusual cramps, and he insisted that someone here would see to you. Tenenbaum and Suchong were working with Gil Alexander, who’s doing a bit of work for Ryan.” He shrugged.

Elaine licked her lips and said nervously: “I heard someone say she’s got a reputation of being kinda crazy with her experiments…”

“Haven’t heard that. She’s just another genius type that Ryan took an interest in. Sure she’s odd—they all are. Can’t make people understand what she wants half the time…”

“Ahh,” Dr. Suchong said, bustling in, his glasses catching the shine in the overhead lamp. His thin Asian face had a faint gloss of sweat. “Here is soon-mother!”

Brigid Tenenbaum came drifting in after him—a very young woman, superficially pretty but with bruised-looking eyes, a shapeless bob of brown hair, a distant expression on her face. Both of them wore lab coats, Tenenbaum with the skirt of a shabby brown dress showing under her white coat.

“Third trimester, yes?” she said. “Interesting.” Her accent, mixing German and Eastern European, was almost as pronounced as Suchong’s. “Well fed, yes? Circulation—good.”

Elaine scowled—Bill could see she felt like a lab animal. Tenenbaum hadn’t even said hello. But it was true—she wasn’t what you’d call a physician. She just happened to be available today. It was all a bit slapdash for Bill’s liking.

“Yes she is, what is expression, ‘well along,’” Suchong remarked, prodding at Elaine’s belly. “Yes … I can feel the … offspring moving. Almost ready for emergence. The creature wishes to come out and feed.”

Tenenbaum had turned to a nearby table of instruments, moving them minutely, squaring them up so that they were at precise right angles and equidistant.

“Mrs. McDonagh,” Suchong said, examining Elaine’s thighs, “does fetus make the reflex movements with extremities?”

Elaine rolled her eyes. “Do you mean does the little one kick, Doctor? The child does; yes.”

“Excellent sign. Long since I have examined a fetus. Difficult to obtain them in healthy state.”

He stepped around to her feet, reached out, and pulled her legs apart with a sharp, decisive movement of his hands like a butcher preparing to gut a chicken. Elaine made a squeak of surprise.

“’Ere, Doc, easy on my girl!” Bill said.

Suchong was lifting up the hospital gown—and he and Tenenbaum were both leaning over the exam table, frowning at Elaine’s private parts. Suchong grunted, pointing. “Interesting distention, there and there—you see? Part of peculiar metamorphosis of pregnant woman.”

“Yes, I see,” Tenenbaum said. “I have dissected many in this stage…”

“Enviable. Perhaps you have specimens?”

“No, no, all my specimens were taken when the Americans came, but—”