KENJI, SETO

32

Male

Heterosexual

SPECIAL BOARD

Biomedical Doctor

RESEARCH 

Dr. Seto Kenji, the man who can’t believe he made it. The man, who by rights, should never set foot into a lab, let alone be near another human being. He is a genius and he is a murderer. He is a man constantly pushed against the glass ceiling of his known abilities. With a PHD in Biomedicine, he is attempting to be a modern Doctor Frankenstein. Employed by the government, he leads research in Potentials, trying to figure out why they happen and how. Dr. Kenji questions things that ought to be left alone and is paranoid of knowing too much, but unable to let anything go. He has very little scruples on practicing his medicine on any number of “patients” who are brought to the lab. His sworn oath to “Do No Harm” fell by the wayside some time ago, and yet he can’t bear to look at the faces of the people he works on. His faith in a higher power is strong but his ability to follow through with being on the side of the saints is weak. As a result, he lives a torturous private life, knowing he is playing with things he should not and feeling that he is unable to help himself.
Dr. Kenji is aware on the periphery that people go missing, that his lab partners have a high turnover rate but he keeps his head down. He does not ask untoward questions. He does not need to know…and yet? His current research is trying to determine who is a Potential and who is not, if there is a genetic correlation, and if there’s a way to repress the gene if it exists. Our dear doctor is also frightened beyond imagining that he could be one of the Potentials. It is evident in the research so far that practically everyone has the potential but he has kept that part to himself. No need to write that down. He is afraid of the politicians but yearns to know what they know. He feels the only way to get into the “club” is to do whatever is necessary to get their attention; in a positive way of course. I am interested in exploring whether or not Dr. Kenji can reach their heights, be satisfied with their secrets, and if he can live with the consequences his life has accrued so far.

Seto Kenji walks that fine line between genius and insane. His thoughts are on constant over drive and he has very little patience for the mere mortals, especially the ones he has to answer to; the bosses who do not know as much as he does. He has yet to meet a field of study that he cannot dominate, but that does have its drawbacks. He takes little pleasure in music for music’s sake, for example. He is constantly thinking about the timing, admiring how notes are put together, admiring the genius of some composers and distaining the lack of taste in contemporary musicians.

Kenji takes anxiety to a whole new level. He does not deal well with stress and tends to shake when in the presence of his peers, at least those he deems as intelligent as himself. He has passed out from panic attacks just before giving presentations on his work, and has consequently only ever been on a stage before a panel, partially, if not wholly intoxicated. His constant companion is fear; fear of failure, fear of making himself look like an idiot, fear of being discovered as a fraud. Though he is qualified he did cheat on a couple of tests in order to have a higher score in college than his rivals.

Kenji lives by the motto “Why tell the truth when a lie will suffice?” Maybe he doesn’t outright lie all the time but he will most definitely allow people to come to their own conclusions as far as his research is concerned, provided the conclusion is favorable. He is slow to give details to anyone about his private life and as a result doesn’t have many friends and has alienated the ones he did have. While the secrets of the universe interest him minutely, people themselves aren’t really a puzzle he’s interested in solving. Social aspects and protocols aren’t lost but he doesn’t feel the need to ingratiate himself to anyone not advantageous to his career.

Being a scientist of sorts, Seto is in the minority when it comes to believing in a higher power. But he does. It’s not something he shares and it’s not something he’s proud of but he believes all the same. This isn’t to say it governs his actions exactly but it does make him agonize over his life choices and he constantly worries about where he will end up in the afterlife, as he believes in that too. In the pocket of his lab coat he always has a crucifix and is constantly checking to make sure it is still there, much like people do with their keys. He goes to great pains to hide his beliefs, even going so far as to outright lie when asked directly, though he is seldom asked.

Seto feels that he is too important to be a nobody forever. His work needs to display its genius, if not for the masses, at least for the important elite. He sees himself as an Official someday, privy to all the secrets that the government has been keeping for so long. Perhaps then he’d understand why it is so vital that the Potentials be kept at bay. Obviously part of it is the current government doesn’t want to give up power but there has to be a deeper reason. He needs to know these things. He will do anything to get those answers. Anything.

Kenji adjusted his lab coat for the second time in so many minutes. His left hand was buried up to the wrist in the coat’s pocket, sliding his fingers across the smooth metal cross until the pads were almost raw. On the white wall behind him an old fashioned clock ticked the seconds away one eternity at a time. He tried to block out the sound, the grating, irritating ticking. Blood pounded in his ears, a rushing, roaring sound that made him dizzy.
He lightly brushed away beads of sweat from his upper lip as his dark eyes remained fixed on the lab’s door. Lying on the table next to his right hand was the open file folder. Each page was tabbed, labeled, and meticulously organized, all for her. It was one thing to explain his work to the mere underlings he was obliged to have assist him. No, this was someone who would understand, who knew what it all meant and the potential behind it.
Seto jerked to attention once the sound of heels clicking on waxed tiled floors reached him. He smoothed his hand over his thick black hair and coughed quietly into one hand. The door opened, admitting a man and a woman. The man, his supervisor, Mark Branson, held a clipboard tightly to his chest, speaking in hushed, earnest tones to the statuesque woman beside him. Her high gloss manicured nails offered the only real color on her body; ten slashes of red against the white lab coat and grey suit underneath.
Her pale eyes raked Seto, from slicked back hair, to polished black shoes. His heart hammered against his ribs and he felt himself start to sway. He caught himself on the table, nearly knocking it over in his panic to remain upright, to not be a fool in front of this woman. Her beauty, though not escaping his notice, was not the overpowering kind. It was as if she had walked out of his dreams and had the scales of fate in her hands. She was a terrifying goddess of judgment.
If he could impress her with his work, he would be free, and could pursue any avenue of scientific exploration he desired. If not, he felt he was doomed to this hellish basement for the rest of his life. However long that might be.
“Are you alright, doctor?” she asked coolly. Her lack of tone betrayed all of the concern she felt. The way she’d said it, she might have asked about the weather forecast. Mark stepped forward and grabbed Kenji’s elbow, his thumb digging into the hollow below the bone, bringing Kenji painfully back.
“Fine,” he blinked rapidly. “I trust Doctor Branson has been discussing our premise?” Kenji straightened again, trying not to think about what her hair suggested about his chances of impressing her. Severe bun, pulled back so tightly that the skin of her forehead was stretched taut. The sharp angles of her face, the closed way she regarded him made him feel small. He did not like to feel small. The indignation of it gave him some bit of courage but his voice still sounded breathless as he spoke.
“The subjects, the uh, potential Potentials are helping us to develop a…we’re looking for a genetic connection, which we hope to then derive an antibody from-”
“Doctor Kenji-” she cut across him. “No doubt you are aware of my preliminary research on the subject of the Potentials. Spare me the weak introduction. Is there or is there not conclusive evidence that it acts like a virus?”
“Virus?” he repeated, pulling out a handkerchief from his pocket and dabbing at his forehead. For a split second he glanced down at the carefully laid out research he’d intended her to review. He felt stupid. Of course she didn’t want to review his notes. She was leagues ahead, and yet he held the missing piece to the puzzle.
She arched carefully cultivated eyebrows at him, her lips parted with an expression that pretty clearly told him that he might be the most worthless piece of garbage she’d ever come across.
“Yes, of course it does,” he lied. Beside him Mark blanched, gripping the clipboard closer. The woman’s face smoothed into something resembling satisfaction.
“I thought that might be the case,” she said. “And you’re working on the antibody? It’ll repress the gene?”
“Absolutely,” Kenji smiled thinly. “We’ve only had a few test subjects but the results are promising. Promising enough, in fact, that your superiors should know what we’ve been up to down here.”
“Oh, they’ll be informed,” she replied, her voice growing ever more sweet. “Except they’ll be told what I’m doing down here. You work for me. Your research is my research. Don’t forget that, Doctor.”
As she turned and headed back out the door with Mark in tow, glancing behind him at Kenji with a look of pure terror, Kenji simply smiled back and waved. There were no genetic tests. Not yet. If she couldn’t be bothered with his real research, he couldn’t see how her disappearance would impact him negatively and after all, wasn’t stealing someone else’s genius the real crime?

MADE BY KIROUKO OF GANGNAM-STYLE