Samurai Game (Ghostwalkers, #10)(82)
“What did he do to you?”
She tried a smile, but knew by the expression on his face she hadn’t quite pulled it off. “I’m kind of like the modern-day Frankenstein monster. Whitney loved his little experiments. When my heart gave out from all the experiments, he decided to make a synthetic heart—one that would prove stronger than a human heart. Well, not exactly synthetic in the normal sense of the word. I wasn’t the first person he tried it on, and the others apparently died. I was a child and the heart he used would ‘power’ an adult. My body tried to reject it, and he didn’t think it was worth it to keep me around long enough to see if the heart worked and my body eventually accepted it.”
Sam frowned, studying her face. She could feel him move through her mind, a soft warm force that made her feel safe. With him filling her mind the way he was, she couldn’t possibly feel alone. In some ways, the sensation was foreign, but already familiar. He was already becoming so dear to her. She felt as if she’d known him forever. He waited her out, knowing there was more—there had to be. How could she teleport with a synthetic heart? It would be impossible for the molecules to break down and then restore themselves—unless they really did move faster than light . . . He shook his head and waited.
“What do you know about nanotechnology?”
He shrugged. “I studied it of course. It’s fascinating and has the potential for changing the world in a number of ways. Basically, it’s engineering functional systems at a molecular scale.” He paused, his breath catching in his lungs.
She nodded slowly. “Whitney is wild about nanotechnology. He’s working on perfecting a way for a device that would travel through the body on a seek and destroy mission of cancerous cells.”
“But he uses humans for his experiments.”
She nodded. “I read one file where he’d deliberately infected one woman several times with cancer.”
“Flame. Iris. She’s married to Gator.”
Azami’s dark eyes regarded him steadily. “Whitney considers that a great waste. He believes she can’t have children, so she rendered Gator useless to him other than as a soldier to prevent the deaths of other soldiers. Basically, Sam, he said the same thing about you. And you’re attracted to me.”
“Even if he could have somehow paired you with me, after you were long gone, how could he have paired me with you? He didn’t know me then. He didn’t have access to you. And you’re attracted, Azami, no matter what you say. Both mentally and physically, you’re attracted.”
A small smile escaped. “I am not arguing that fact, Sam. I’m merely trying to get you to see the big picture before you leap with both feet and your eyes closed.”
“Are you saying he gave you cancer?”
“You know what I’m saying. Nanotechnology doesn’t defy the principles of physics. The possibility of moving or maneuvering something atom by atom in theory can be done. Just as teleportation is not against the laws of physics. Already, nanosystems are being developed with thousands of interactive components, and Whitney is going a step further, developing integrated systems functioning like our own cells with systems inside systems.”
“Are you saying he found a way to construct a heart using carbon nanotube scaffolding?” Sam tried not to sound excited, but who wouldn’t be? “That’s impossible. Bone reconstruction is barely beginning and bones are linear. Carbon nanotubes are one-dimensional. No one has figured out how to shape them.” His gaze locked with hers. “Have they?”
She didn’t answer and his mind was racing with the possibilities. He shook his head, wondering aloud. “One would have to solve toxicity and rejection problems. They’d have to grow the cellular and noncellular components outside the body before replacing the damaged heart with a fully functioning nano heart. How the hell could they do that before transplanting it?” He caught her arms. “It would be a miracle, Azami. It can’t be possible. How the hell would Whitney manage to construct a heart from carbon nanotubes?”
“A heart would only have to function like a human heart, not necessarily be shaped like an organic one,” Azami pointed out.
“No, but the heart still has to perform the same function as a human heart,” Sam argued. “It still has to beat in a cardiac cycle, which puts constraints on the shape. Right now scientists are just beginning to think in terms of using carbon nanotubes for bones because they can’t shape them. A heart can’t be linear.”
“No, even a nano heart would have to go through a pumping cycle that alternates between bringing in the deoxygenated blood and pumping the newly oxygenated blood out to the rest of the body,” she agreed.
“Exactly.” Sam watched her closely. She was telling him she had a nano heart and his mind couldn’t wrap around the possibility. “That particular aspect of the heart’s functioning can’t really be changed, as the entire rest of the body is set up around it.” But it was possible. Every scientist working with nanotechnology had specific goals in mind, and replacing a damaged heart was on the list. No one could figure out how to shape the carbon nanotubes. The heart would be far stronger if all problems surrounding the growth and transplant could be solved. Whitney had experimented on little Thorn for years. He would have access to cells and anything else he would want or need from her body. But was it possible he’d done what others were just imagining?