Scene 04

Phillip watched a beaker of reddish liquid through the plexiglass shield of a fume hood. At the bottom of the beaker was a pill shaped teflon coated magnet. It was spinning with all it’s might, powered by the magnetic hot plate upon which the beaker sat. The color of the liquid slowly shifted farther into the red spectrum. A smile started to creep onto Phillip’s face, though it was thoroughly obscured by his thick beard.

Leaning back, he pushed a red button on the bottom panel of the fume hood. The magnetic spinner slowed to a stop, and a parade of tiny bubbles began to cavitate around the beaker’s glass walls. Thick oily foam frothed over the edge, and with a sharp crack the entire inside of the fume hood was covered with pink sludge. Smacking his hand against the side of the fume hood, Phillip cursed.

“Bad day?”

“You could say that,” Phillip said, trying to keep his calm as Gus continued to scratch the plastic spoon around the sides of his cup.

Gus nodded, and said, “When I have a mental block, I find that ice cream helps.”

Before Phillip could respond something caught Gus’ attention. With an awkward wave, he said, “Sorry professor, gotta bounce,” and was gone.

Shifting his attention back to the pink soiled fume hood, Phillip soon became lost in thought. Help is what he needed. He knew that, and even knew the perfect person for the job. The hard part was convincing Martin, who had shot down the idea every time Phillip had brought it up. The growth rate of Martin’s latest batch of specimens was being stunted by these delays, and it was obviously irritating him.

Phillip flinched as he heard Martin’s voice behind him.

“That doesn’t look promising.”

Turning, he saw Martin’s gaze fixed on the catastrophe in the fume hood.

“Well, I know one more thing that doesn’t work,” he said with a forced smile. “Do you need me for something?”

“No, I hunting for Gus. I thought I saw him lurking in here.”

“He was. He mentioned something about ice cream, and then scurried off.”

A small storm seemed to roll across Martin’s forehead and eyebrows. While Phillip thought Gus a bit odd, he did like him. It wasn’t his favorite role, but he often found himself acting as a buffer between the two of them.

“I agree, he’s a strange bird, but this equipment barely runs with him pampering it all day long. This facility was built decades ago, and you’re trying to do cutting edge science down here. Normally a whole team of people would be working on any one of the dozen…”

Cutting him off, his tone sharp, Martin said, “I am well aware, but my patience isn’t infinite.”

Feeling his face flush, Phillip replied in kind, “And neither is my expertise.” After a long pause, he continued with a softer tone, “Look, I understand the need for secrecy, but let me bring in just one person. She’s the brightest scientist I’ve ever worked with.”

Martin’s blue eyes fixed on him, magnified by thick lensed glasses. Phillip felt a strange itching sensation at the base of his neck. It was like he was being pinned into place, an insect on a specimen board.

The sensation lasted only a moment, and was gone. In its wake Phillip’s forehead felt chill as tiny beads of sweat evaporated away. Blinking, he saw Martin was now standing a foot or two away from where he had just been. A odd kind of vertigo turned his stomach, and Phillip stabilized himself with a nearby table.

“I’m sorry. You’re right. I’ve been a little … well … preoccupied of late. There are so many … pressures. You don’t realize how …” Martin’s voice trailed off. His body seemed to deflate, and he even looked strangely frail.

Still shaking off his disorientation, Phillip started to speak. Before he could, Martin straightened up, and said, “Bring your friend onboard. I’ll leave the paperwork on your desk, and look forward to meeting …”

It took Phillip a few seconds to register that Martin was waiting for a name. “Oh, sorry. Dr. Jones. Dr. Bethany Jones.”

Martin nodded, and left the lab. Phillip rubbed the back of his neck, and absently walked over to a stool. After sitting for a few minutes, the strange feeling evaporated away. The harder Phillip tried to recall the sensation, the faster slipped away, as if he had just awoken and was trying to remember a dream.

“Maybe Gus was right, and I just need some ice cream,” he muttered to himself as he went to large stainless steel sink in the corner, put on some rubber gloves, and grabbed a roll of paper towels. As he cleaned out the mess in the fume hood he started thinking about how he could try to explain to Beth what exactly they were working on, while also convincing her to join them.

Martin’s eyes flew open. The room was dark and silent, though his heart felt like it was going to beat right out of his chest. Pulling himself into a sitting position, his damp bedsheets clinging to his skin, he looked to the far end of the room. Hanging in the darkness were a pair of amber numbers, 02:14.

Rubbing his face, he thought to himself, I have to get some sleep. This would be the third night in a row that he wouldn’t have gotten more than a couple hours of rest. It wasn’t sustainable. Leaning his head against the cool stone wall behind him, he closed his eyes, and tried to relax.