BioShock Rapture

Ryan glanced up. “Oh, Bill, have a seat…” He looked back at the folder in his hands as Bill sat down across from him. The folder was marked CONFIDENTIAL. “I just want to have another look at the end of this one … I had Stanley Poole look into some things … this Lamb woman is a problem…” He flipped a page. “Bringing that woman in was bad judgment…” He grunted to himself, closed the folder, pushed it aside, and opened another. “Yes. Poole’s also found out something about Fontaine’s new venture he’s calling Futuristics … Seems quite … pregnant with possibility … Take a load off while I sort through this…”

Ryan made notes, nodded to himself. Then he looked up at Bill, smiling. “I get so caught up in the day-to-day business—I forget to really take a good look at the people around me. You look a bit careworn, Bill. That’s natural. How’s Elaine?”

Bill smiled, relaxing a little. He liked to see this side of Ryan. “Grand, Mr. Ryan. Knows how to make a man happy, that one.”

“Good, good. I too will settle down when the time comes. I dream of having a son one day, you know. Someone to take what I’ve built in his hands and keep it thriving—build on it! An investment in the future. What a wonderful place to grow up, Rapture is, too. A wonderland for kids, I should think…”

Bill wasn’t so sure of that. Not at all. But he only smiled musingly and nodded.

Sullivan came bustling in. He nodded to Bill and stood beside the desk with the tense air of a man who was fitting this stop into a tight schedule. “You called me, sir?”

“Ah—Chief. There you are! Yes…” He pushed the folder toward Sullivan. “I need you to jump with both feet into this. Have you heard something about a … a new development called plasmids?”

“Plasmids? No sir. What the blazes are they?”

“Some kind of product. Look at this…” He reached into a desk drawer, drew out a folded copy of The Rapture Tribune, and laid it out on the desk for Bill and Sullivan to see. It was opened to the back page, on which an advertisement proclaimed,

EVERYTHING YOU ALWAYS WANTED TO BE

YOU CAN BE

WITH PLASMIDS! THE WAVE OF THE FUTURE

FROM FONTAINE FUTURISTICS

Free Samples of HairGro

BrainBoost

SportBoost

Electro Bolt

BruteMore Muscle Enhancer

And watch for Incinerate!

Ryan shrugged. “Fontaine is putting them out. Grows new hair, new teeth, makes you prettier, stronger, younger, even faster. Already selling big to the maintenance workers. A genetic breakthrough, according to Poole. Our restless young rival is at it again. I want you to find out what you can about these ‘plasmids,’ Sullivan, and everything about Fontaine Futuristics. Apparently he’s hired Dr. Suchong and Brigid Tenenbaum to develop these products. That woman seemed unstable to me—but she’s a whiz.”

Bill looked at the advertisement and shook his head. “Too good to be true, innit? I mean—got to be side effects. They test these things first?”

Ryan waved a hand dismissively. “I’m not really concerned with weighing down progress with a lot of testing. People want to try it, they can take their chances. Well Sullivan—can you take this on? Poole’s got his hands full watching that Lamb woman…”

Sullivan rubbed his jaw. “Working on that smuggling thing pretty hard right now, sir. Fontaine’s changed his MO.”

“We’ll take care of their smuggling later. Unless you have solid proof it’s Fontaine?”

“No sir. Not arresting proof. Of course, the constables would probably arrest anybody you told them to…”

Ryan leaned back in his desk chair, seemed to consider it. Then he shook his head. “No. If I did that, we’d be no better than the Reds. No, we’ll get evidence. But first I want to know what this plasmid thing is all about. My instinct tells me it’s something that could change Rapture’s marketplace.”

Sullivan nodded, ran a hand through his hair, licking his lips as if he were thinking of bringing up another issue. Then he shrugged. “I’m on it, sir.”

He headed out the door, a man on a mission.

“How are those leakage problems I’ve been hearing about, Bill?” Ryan asked, though the glazed look in his eyes suggested his thoughts were roving elsewhere.

“Constant maintenance, guv. The bloody sea doesn’t just sit quiet out there—we push it out of our way, and it pushes right back. Always throwin’ its weight around—sheer water pressure, currents, changing temperature, ice formation, sea creatures a-scrapin’ and squeezin’. Barnacles and starfish and seaworms. Had to send scraping crews out twice the last month.”

“Yes. Some of the men spend so much time in deep-sea diving suits they’re beginning to feel like part of them.” Ryan smiled to himself.

Bill remembered the experimental subject he’d seen in the labs. Not something he wanted to think about.