Elaine Chang (11) | STAFF REPORTER
“What is that?” Warren said, voice laced with incredulity. He was blinking hard against the eyepiece of a microscope.
“Neat, isn’t it?” Alan responded, twisting a knob to raise the stage a little closer to the lenses. “See the specimen?”
Warren made a face and a dramatic shudder ran along his shoulders which tensed beneath the wrinkle-free fabric of his suit.
“Yeah, I see the little squirming bastard.” He responded, stepping away from the microscope and straightening the cuffs of his suit. “What did you say its name was?”
“Vibrio cryptophorus.” Alan declared, his usually quiet voice rising as a testament to his pride. “Created from the embryonic stem cells of many of our top specimens here at the agency, immunized through a specially developed combination of nutrients, and fractionalized into single-use injections for commercial use. Three doses have the potential to cure stage two cancer; imagine that, the century of hyper-immunity and near immortality!”
Warren had, for the most part of this passionate spiel, been tugging on the clasp of his gold-plated watch which had gotten caught on the fabric of his expensive dress shirt. He finally looked up at the resumed silence in the room, but his fingers didn’t leave his shirt sleeve.
“Alan. Listen. Out of all that scientific jargon you just said, all I heard were the wads of cash landing in my bank account. Commercializing immunity?” Warren flashed the signature smile of a sleazy businessman at him. “I’ll be the richest man alive.”
“But—” Alan began, drawing a little notebook from the oversized pocket of his lab coat.
Warren waved him off with a flick of his hand, fishing a phone from his back pocket. In seconds, the caller on the other end had picked up, and the tinny voice of a woman could be heard through the phone speaker.
“So?” The woman’s impatience could be detected through her voice alone.
“Fan-tas-tic news! I’ve seen it myself— a true success! Send the team this instant!” Warren’s voice boomed through the laboratory.
Alan let out a squeak seeing the exuberance spilling from Warren’s demeanour.
“What team? How many people? They will need to all be screened for external bacteria; this lab is very protec—” He was quickly cut off by another wave of Warren’s hand.
“Save me the pain of listening to that spiel—the only bacteria I care about is that one!” He jabbed a thumb towards the microscope where the sample of the new specimen still laid.
Even amidst Alan’s adamant protests, Warren continued as if he hadn’t heard.
“My team doesn’t need to come in this lab anyhow; they’ll just be looking,” and here he formed a picture frame with his pointer finger and thumb, “at the marketing perspective.” He smiled sleazily once more. “After all, between the two of us, Alan, I am the businessman.”
Finally, at this, Alan stamped a foot on the ground.
“The specimen is not ready yet for human use! The only successful tests so far have been on a European bull—”
And here he was cut off again.
“A bull? Why, there’s no better animal!” He puffed up his chest. “I’m as strong as a bull, and as big, and I don’t see why I wouldn’t be able to take what the bull could.”
“Finch, Mr. Grant. A European bullfinch.” Alan seemed to be close to tears in exasperation. “A little backyard bird! I cannot possibly let this be used commercially until it is safely tested on the appropriate specimen!”
His fervent speech was clearly lost on Warren as his phone began to trill once more. This time, the man began an eager stride towards the door, speaking in an excited tone about some sort of business negotiation and profit margins—the type of speech that was lost on Alan.
Alan chewed his lip nervously, glancing down at his scrawled notes on the notepad; it was an extensive list of side effects he had noted during testing, some of which included: lengthening of the beak, extreme feather loss, and, over time, some had become rather corpulent.
He buried his face in his hands as somewhere down the hallway, past the disinfecting chamber, he heard Mr. Grant arguing over the phone that dark-red packaging wouldn’t have the same appeal as royal blue.
