They fascinate me. Take now for example, my assistant is melting chromosomes in order to separate them; so we can choose which should be included under the cell culture hood. The intricate positions of the gene loci and the delicate blend of parent DNA produces some interesting results.
Looking around my bare, unadorned lab, I remember the real reason I’m here, not just to play at the cellular level, but to open the eyes of the religious nay-sayers. Those with faith that narrow minded and brainwashing that they do not believe in evolution, despite the astronomical fossil evidence. Those that destroyed my home and my life because they disagreed with my papers and speeches on evolution. I’ll show them all.
A whimper from across the room breaks me out my monologue, a small porcelain hand reaches through the hatch in the corner. It infuriates me, “What have I told you about making a sound! Would you like me to teach you again? – the hand withdraws and a small sob carries across the room – Good! Stay quiet, you are no longer important,“.
In my research, things sometimes go awry – sometimes it’s hard to see beyond the advances at a cellular and physical level; sometimes we forget about the mental and social needs of the creatures. Through that hatch, live my failures. Every day they remind me of what I have done wrong, and one day, they will pay for their very existence. However, for now they provide the motivation for these long days in the lab. A lab where I am God.
“Ma’am, it’s ready in exam room three.” I look up, a smile creeping across my face, time to see what we have managed to control now.
Entering exam room three I tread softly over to the table – where a small girl is waiting with her back to me. She has exquisite white-blonde hair that has never been cut and now falls well past her waist, cascading from the table. I know that when she turns to face me large, evenly spaced eyes, the colour of the sky in summer will drink me in. Some what starved of other company she has become rather attached to my assistant and I. I know all this because, I designed her.
“Child, please lie down,” I indulge her neediness with a soft smile and she immediately does as she’s bid, a long sigh escaping her lips, as if my presence is somehow soothing. Idiotic Child. As she lays her head on the pillow, I begin my examination of her limbs – gently extending them and manipulating the joints – perfect. Next I test her reflexes, which are highly advanced for a child, and her response to pain stimuli such as extreme heat and cold. Bless the child, she never flinches or pulls away – that was the hardest part, cultivating a combination of high sensitivity, so that her senses remained functional, while also reducing the response to pain. The final part of my exam, testing her cell regeneration rate. I create a small nick in her finger, watch the blood flow, timing how long it takes to slow and stop entirely. It doesn’t, in fact it’s taking longer than a normal child her age – I know this because I personally tested all controls.
She is flawed, another failure. I seethe with barely checked rage and grab the pillow from under her head, which smacks off the desk eliciting a small cry. I hold her head with one hand and place the pillow over her face with the other. Her eyes widen in recognition and fear.
“Mama!” she cries, I hold the pillow over her face, while she thrashes her limbs, until she stills.
Failure is not allowed.
The prompt: -Your story is set in an illegal human genetic experimentation lab, somewhere deep underground.