May. 1st, 2013 07:43 pm
therealpm: (Haters to the left)
My attempts to ascertain the original cause of my erstwhile lycanthropy not withstanding, this week has been reasonably productive.  Though the legislation surrounding lycanthropes will never be brought to a full vote in either House (how could it), there are various committees that decide on such matters and intensive lobbying is at last beginning to bear fruit.  Not, I will admit, intensive lobbying conducted directly by myself.  I suspect any overt moves made in such a direction would be immediately regarded with suspicion, but Fowler has taken up the cause with what might be considered alarming alacrity.  Though he (and indeed every other member of such a committee) will never be convinced of a werewolf's right to roam, he has at least instated an inherent right to life provided the lycanthrope is willing to take the daily potion, and removed the restriction barring partners from becoming a lycanthrope's legal guardian.  Small steps, perhaps, but welcome.

I therefore intend to spend some time improving the daily potion.  At present it is challenging, though not impossible, to brew correctly, and it has a rather repulsive taste.  I suspect DEFRA consider the sedative and weakening effects to be a feature, rather than a problem, but I suspect that taken over a long period it causes a gradual degardation of health.  This too must be addressed.

The exact combination of ingredients required is yet to be discovered, but given the healthy links I have maintained with various research institutions, acquiring any particular root or grub should not present too much of a problem.  The main difficulty will be finding a test subject.  I can of course use mice for the development stage, but they give so little feedback, and in any case, once the formula is past development and into trials, I will need humanoid test subjects anyway. 

I wonder how that scottish island community is getting on?
therealpm: (Default)
*Peter sits back in his chair and smirks smugly at the stack of papers in front of him. John's gift of a TV had been a greater boon than he'd expected. In his panic, John hadn't placed any wards on the TV at all, and so it had been a simple matter for Peter to 'adapt' the TV and the remote control to allow him to communicate with The Machine via a tele-text style interface. Peter did wonder whether anyone would notice, given teletext had been cancelled for a while, but apparently it appeared innocuous enough to pass under his guards' radars, and now, the fruits of The Machine's labours are stacked neatly before him on the desk. He hasn't had time to do more than frantically scribble down notes, but even this preliminary reading has suggested several new ways in which the potion might be improved, or at least rendered less likely to kill him; and who knows, if he survives this, he might even be able to get a paper out of it.  Grinning with anticipation, he picks up the first sheet and begins to work.*
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