Tobias Roote

Science Fiction Writer

The Nano Nose

The Nano Nose

My nose was a Conk, a Ginormous Great Conk. No two ways about it my Hooter was the king of all hooters. It had been my nemesis since my first day at nursery school. Every little dirty fingered little brat had wanted to squeeze, tweak it, or shove their cruddy little fingers up it. One even tried to get their hand up. I blew snot all over it; they didn't try that again.

The staff reported me for acting in an unsociable manner. Nobody asked me if they could stick their fingers up my Conk. At five years old I felt aggrieved.

When I went to school, I was called 'NoseJob', 'Snot Bucket' and other such descriptive names. It wasn't pretty. If I sneezed I took out half the class. 'Miss Popular' I wasn't. Shunned by virtually all, I learned to keep to myself. Prom dates? I didn't dare show up.

My parents were both well endowed with large hooters and lived with it. Sometimes we would get mail addressed to 'The Hooters'. People can be cruel.

So, when I saw the advertisement in the paper asking for Test volunteers to try something called 'nano-stem cell surgery' I was on it like a rash. I cut the advert out and shot off to the address on the advert. I was outside their premises even before the opening times shown on the glass window.

The door opened and I walked in, still clutching the piece from the paper. The receptionist was nice and as we talked she filled in a form on her desk, which I signed.

Before I knew it I was in a waiting room, magazines on the coffee table, and wipe-down plastic chairs your legs stuck to if you stayed in one place too long.

Two other people arrived after me. One had a scar from cheek to chin. I hoped they could help him, it must be hard living with that.

The other, a girl, was suffering from a burn scar that hadn't healed cleanly. She was a much more important case than me. I wondered how many Test Subjects they would need and hoped it was more than two. I didn't feel as worthy as the others, but I still badly wanted to be a volunteer.

A door opened. I was summoned into the surgery. It was a bright, clean medical room with lights and instruments everywhere.

A young man, a real dish, worked at a terminal. I could see there were two computer screens. He sat me in front of one and adjusted his cameras so I could see myself in profile and full face.

Then he attached a set of thick shiny tubes, one to my wrist, the other to my neck. The shiny conduits felt strange as if they were attaching themselves to me with suckers.

He was very nice. I relaxed and we chatted and laughed. I didn't feel uncomfortable with him, my nose didn't get in my face and I talked as if I had known him for years. When pictures of me came on the screen he asked me what kind of nose I wanted and we chuckled over some of the names for them. I liked the Marilyn Monroe one, but we kept on hunting for the right shape.

As we selected different types of noses, the picture of me on the screen would change to reflect the choices so I could see for myself. 'Wow!,' I thought.

Eventually, after hundreds of hooters, I finally picked out a pretty nose that suited me perfectly. Importantly, there was no way anyone's finger could be shoved up it. "A pert feminine nose," the young man said, and smiled.

He turned on a set of deep blue lights. They had flexible arms sticking out from a central pole on a wheeled stand. As each light was positioned it stopped wherever he left it. In minutes my nose and face were surrounded with lights and the heat from them made my nose tingle.

Actually, it made it really itch, tingle and twitch too. It was maddening, but I couldn't get my hands past the arms of the lamps to scratch it. My eyes were watering and I could feel a weird sensation between them that felt as if a great pressure was being released. This seemed to go on for an awfully long time.

I couldn't see the young man, but I could hear the click of the keyboard and the hum of the computer. He talked to me continually, keeping me relaxed. He asked about school, college and my social life and if I had boyfriends. I told him I had no friends and boys never looked at me, except to snigger. Time passed.

He suddenly announced "You're done!"  and as all the lights switched off and while I couldn't yet see properly, I could hear all the equipment being pulled away. Then finally, the tubes at my neck and wrist were removed.

Taking my hand, he led me out of the room and through a different door which held a series of mirrors, half height, full length, vanity mirrors and lighting. It created different moods, some harsh, others soft. He led me to one of the close-up make-up mirrors and told me to look at myself.

I didn't understand immediately. The girl looking back at me didn't have the flattened wide protruding conk-face I had seen all my life. She was drop-dead gorgeous with a pert feminine nose.

As this all slowly dawned on me my smile broadened into a wide grin and I turned to the young man grabbing his head with both hands, kissed him full on the mouth. He didn't fight to get away and when I finally released him he was blushing furiously, a coy smile on his face.

“I think you will have plenty of boyfriends now” he said.


Welcome.
I write Space Opera SF and books that encourage the idea that a future world with AI is not necessarily a bleak place.

Copyright © 2013-2017 Tobias Roote - Author. All Rights Reserved.