The Gustafson Institute

Given the flight time and traveling through several time zones, the plane touched down on the tarmac as the sun was coming up in Stockholm. Taxiing to a private hanger, there was a large black SUV waiting to ferry the newly arrived group directly to the Institute. Given Lina’s position and influence, they were able to sidestep any formal customs and were soon on their way.

Situated approximately seventy kilometers north of Metropolitan Stockholm and nestled in amongst a forested area on the outskirts of Uppsala, the institute was of modern design.  

During the drive, Lina advised everyone the institute possessed sufficient amenities to provide residence for everyone during the upcoming process.

Arriving at the Institute, Lina directed them to a secured side entrance. A slightly built attractive blonde haired woman probably in her mid to late thirties, long hair swept up in braids piled on the back of her head and wearing a white lab coat over her business attire greeted them there. Lina immediately introduced the woman as the Institute Director and project lead Dr. Helena Holmstrom before wrapping her arms around the woman in a familiar hug.

Looking at the two sisters, “Welcome, welcome,” Dr. Holmstrom said enthusiastically, disengaging from Lina, Bright blue eyes sparkling from behind thin-rimmed eyeglasses drawn to the plastic container in Ella’s hands.

“This is my son, Thomas,” Ella said, extending the habitat.

“Delighted to make your acquaintance,” Dr. Holmstrom said, smiling down at him and nodding her head.

Tom flashed her his smile and bowed slightly, “Doctor,” he replied.

Looking back to the other women, “I was informed to expect Dr. Wentworth to be in attendance?” she asked.

Dona smiled and nodded, “I have him here with me, but the journey has left him fatigued. He asked me to relay his salutations to you while he rests,” she stated.

The doctor nodded, “Of course, yes,” she said. “Please, come let me show yu where your rooms are,” she offered, leading them deeper into the facility.

While not lacking in amenities, overall the rooms themselves did possess a certain quasi-institutional feel.

Once they travelers were squared away, Dr. Holmstrom met with the group again in one of the institute’s smaller boardrooms where there was a long naturally finished table surrounded by ten ergonomic chairs. With the doctor was another woman whom she introduced as her assistant Freja Ivarsdottir.

Ella placed Tom on the polished table, while Dona deposited Tom Sr. beside his grandson.

Seeing Tom Sr., Dr. Holmstrom’s face immediately brightened. “Dr. Wentworth, I cannot begin to express what a tremendous honor and pleasure it is to meet you in person. I have had the good fortune to have attended one of your lectures several years ago when I was still in graduate school,” she blurted, gushing like star struck groupie.

The older Tom grinned, “Please, just call me Tom,” he invited.

“Tom,” she said.

Tom III frowned, looking from the doctor to his grandfather. For all it mattered, he might as well not even be there. Turning his attention to the doctor’s research assistant, Freja, he gave her the one over. She was gorgeous. Long rich chestnut colored hair bound back, big bright cyan colored eyes, full pouty lips. A sly smile replaced his expression of disproval.

Walking toward the end of the table where the doctor sat, “I would really like to take a look at your research to see what strategies you’ve come up with to fortify molecular stability during the transmutation phase,” Tom Sr. said.

The female doctor’s face lit up even more and her gesticulations more animated, “I would love for you to take a look. Any suggestions are most certainly welcome,” she said, nodding before launching into a very tech description of the processes they would be using in the restoration procedure.

Tom shook his head almost imperceptibly, “Science nerd,” he breathed.

Dr. Holmstrom pulled herself away from Tom Sr. long enough to lay out her upcoming strategy, stipulating there were still a fair amount of tests and other incidentals processes to be completed before engaging in the procedure. While she and Tom Sr. would be reviewing the science behind the experiment, she wanted her assistant to administer still a battery of psychological and physiological to the younger Tom, essentially leaving Lina, Ella, and Dona to their own devices.

Being in her home country, Lina volunteered to act as tour guide and show the Italian born sisters the natural beauty and wonder of Sweden.

By midmorning, Tom found himself alone in Freja Ivarsdottir’s office with Dr. Holmstrom’s assistant. Seated cross-legged on her very neat desk, he smiled up at the young graduate student.

“So,” she started, smiling down at Tom, “the purpose of the tests is to establish a baseline result both physically and intellectually prior to the procedure and then to check back afterward to ensure there has been no degradation in either as a result of the restoration,” she explained, voice lilted slightly with an accent.

Smile appearing on his face, Tom nodded, “Makes sense.”

“These are fairly standardized tests, personality inventories and the like,” she stated, patting a stacks of test booklets at the corner of her desk.

“Icelandic?” he inquired.

“Sorry?” she said, tilting her head.

“Your accent,” he commented. “You’re originally from Iceland.”

Her smiled broadened, “Yes, that’s true,” she acknowledged. “You have a very keen ear.”

“Am I the first tiny person you’ve seen?” he asked, emerald eyes sparkling.

Freja nodded, luxurious brown hair bobbing, “Yes, we were advised before your arrival about your, um, situation, but even then it is still another thing to actually see you and your grandfather like this,” she replied.

Getting to his feet, he walked to the edge of the desk nearest the immense woman. Reaching a hand up, he motioned for her to bring her hand near him.

Uncertain of his intent, “What is it?” she asked, bringing her right hand down on the desk near him.

Walking to her, he reached out and touched the tip of her index finger, dragging his fingers along the whorl pattern of her fingerprint before touching the clear-coated manicured nail on the other side. The fine hairs on her arms rise as her flesh surrendered to goose bumps.

“No amount of forewarning can truly prepare you for this type of situation,” he stated.

Clearing her throat, she nodded, but remained silent, fascinated by what she was experiencing.

“You are named after the goddess Freya,” he said, moving into her palm.

“Yes,” she replied, closing her fingers carefully around his nude body, feeling lean muscles flex and move beneath his skin. A sense of power awoke within her. She couldn’t place the origin.

Shifting his position in her cautious grasp, he looked up at her and unleashed his patented smile.