Journal

[therealpm]

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?

Comments

[therealpm]

Consent is determined by the owner of the lycanthrope, and as DEFRA are the legal 'owners' of all those transported to the Scottish island community, and the authority granting permits...

...this, of course, only concerns humanoid lycanthropes. Non humanoids have never been created, and thus there is no legislation regarding their welfare or confinement.

[bamfbercow]

..."Non humanoid lycanthropes"?

Peter, that's a preposterous notion! What would be afflicted with the condition? A mouse? Can you image a set of mice with lycanthropy?

What if they got lose, Peter? It would be nearly impossible to catch them all again before they turn! And what of the genetic ramifications in the real world scenario? Have you thought this through at all?

[therealpm]

Mice with various contagious and dangerous conditions are used routinely in laboratories all over the country. Effective safety protocols have been developed and can be implemented here. Even if one should get loose, given The Machine's capabilities, tracking and elimination should not be an issue.

[bamfbercow]

There are procedures in place and lines of accountability for those other experiments, Peter! None of the theoretical proposals have taken those things into consideration. There needs to be back ups and appropriate benchmarking structures and all manner of other regulatory boundaries!

Besides which, Peter, these experiments most likely fall under animal cruelty regulations and lycanthropic specific regulations and regulations regarding changed state individuals.

[therealpm]

*Peter pushes and piece of paper and a biro across to John.*

You'd better note them down then. I'll make some more tea.

[bamfbercow]

*John grumbles to himself but begins to try and write out as much of the list as he can work out. By the time Peter's returned with the tea, John's on his second sheet of paper. The thought doesn't strike him until he's almost ready to move on to a third.*

Surely The Machine would be more suited to this task?

[therealpm]

I doubt even The Machine is as informed on the detailed minutae of parliament as you are, John, nevertheless I will seek her input at a later date.

[bamfbercow]

...Well, make sure you do.

*John goes back to trying to focus on the list.*

[therealpm]

*The next couple of hours are very productive as Peter gently nudges John into gradually improving all of his plans. Whilst the 'no' pile is not completely depopulated, well over half the sheets of paper have migrated to 'possible' by the time the biscuits have run out.*

[bamfbercow]

*It takes John quite a while of hand-waving in the now empty tin to realise that, try as hard as he might, he wasn't going to be getting any more biscuits from that box at the moment. He looks over from the sheet he'd been annotating to inspect the contents of the box.*

Ah.

*His eyes return to the paper and he makes a note in the margin. He picks up the paper and stands.*

I shan't be a moment...

*John starts to wander off in the general direction of the fireplace, still reading through a sheet.*

[therealpm]

*Peter, now thoroughly immersed in his book, doesn't notice that John's wandered off with a rather crucial piece of one of his plans until the fire flares and it's too late. He flicks the TV to omniview to monitor the situation.*

[bamfbercow]

*John is distracted by the paper as he searches for the biscuits. He pauses in his hunt to scribble on the page, leaning on the kitchen counter to make his notes.*

*He doesn't notice Freddie until he is tugging at his trousers.*

Hmm?

Oh, Freddie, hello there.

This? Oh, it's nothing - just helping Uncle Peter with something.

*John chuckles*

Yes, Freddie, even Uncle Peter needs help sometimes.

*John gets the box of biscuits down from the shelf.*

Yes, alright you may have one.

*He opens the box and lets Freddie pick the biggest biscuit he can find. John then puts the lid back on and heads for the fireplace.*

No, you can't come with me back to Uncle Peter's. You have homework to do, remember?

I know you can be a help in a great number of circumstances, Freddie, but this isn't one of them - this is secret adult things.

Maybe one day, when you're older.

...I shall certainly tell Uncle Peter than you wish to hug him.

Run along now.

Go on.

*John waits for Freddie to leave the room before stepping through the fire place, back to Peter's.*