Alex – 9 Days To Plague Day
Something was different. He knew the contents of this white board like nothing else. He knew every stroke of the pen, every figure and symbol. But something had changed since yesterday and it took him a few seconds to spot it. A difference in one of the equations. Stranger still, was that it looked like his handwriting.
He grabbed his notebook and scribbled down the new formula, trying to figure out why it would work. Had he done this before it all happened and just forgotten it? It wouldn’t be surprising. He could have cracked the cure for cancer and what happened on Saturday would have knocked it straight out his brain.
He was struggling to fit the events of the weekend into his mind and his world. He was having a child. They were having a child. In a way, that was easier to handle than the faded images he had of a future world. It had felt so real, yet now the pictures were like smoke, flitting away when he reached for them. They had been true though, he knew that.
He checked his watch. He had a lecture this morning and despite the strong urge, he wouldn’t skip it. This stuff wasn’t going anywhere and there was a large part of him that longed to junk it and toss it in the bin. He dumped the notepad back on the desk and headed for the door, smiling wryly.
He could never give up on it. He was the youngest student to be awarded a research grant in fifteen years. He was doing something no one else in the world was doing. This was his future. He just had to change it a little, move from creating a weapon to creating the cure for other weapons. He woke up thinking about it, which made a pleasant change from thinking about babies.
Chemical warfare was prevalent across the world. It was what had drawn him to it in the first place. Make the one ring to rule them all. But now he knew where that led, he could change the formula and create immunity. The shift wasn’t that great. His disease was based around changing the levels of chemicals within the brain. It would create the ultimate fight or flight response so the reptile brain took over. It would have to carry immune-suppressants to remove the body’s natural fight back.
This new formula would focus on the physical alone… he stopped, one hand pushing the door closed. Who was he kidding? This was entirely different. The only part of two years research he would be using was the basic chemistry of turning the solution into gas. Everything would change. He would be starting again.
The door clicked shut and he shrugged. If he had to start again, maybe he could finish this one first anyway. Whatever happened, when his son came along he would stop him doing anything stupid with it. He’d thought about that a lot last night. Perhaps just seeing his baby, a new person brought into the world, would stop him.
He drifted to class and made notes that would make no sense when he looked back at them. He’d only look back at them once and by then, they would have ceased to matter.
The formula changed again the following night and the figures he programmed into the machine were quite different from what he’d been working on before Saturday. He understood the changes, though he still doubted where they came from. They had to be him. There was no one else who understood what he was doing.
He realised when he stepped in to the lab on Tuesday that sometime between yesterday and today, he’d made his mind up. He would make it, he knew he could crack it. He would make it and put it somewhere no one could find it. But he had to finish it.
He watched as a series of chemicals were combined into a test tube that hung from a machine the uni had given him quite a considerable amount of money to buy. In some small way, finishing his project was the least he could do for the faith they had put in him.
He lifted the test tube gently and placed it in the centrifuge. He pressed the button and stepped away to look at the formula where he’d scribbled it down. It was right. He knew that without even testing it. His hand shook as he thought what that meant. He’d given himself five years at the least, though he’d told the uni four at most. But he’d cracked it in under two. He was a genius. He grinned as the shaking slowed.
Alex sat in his chair, folding his hands behind his head and leaning back. New Scientist was the first place to g— No. He couldn’t tell anyone. He knew where this would lead if it got out into the world. This was the greatest secret he would ever hold. But the University would be pissed if he turned around and said they’d wasted their money. That was fine, he would just have to make the immunity gas as well.
He turned to a fresh page in his notebook and began to write, lulled by the gentle whirring of the centrifuge.
Next Installment Thursday 14th August
