Chapter Seventeen
“Look here,” Dembe said, pointing to the monitor with the end of a pen. “Just like the monkeys. All the center sections with the additional synapses are black.”
Melinda sat back in the rolling chair and stared at the images on the screen. “What if these connections were burned out from overuse, like having no fuse pop when overloading to save the wire from damage? Too much for the tiny DNA available.”
“That makes sense,” her friend replied. “We need to study these fibers to see if they are identical to the original ones. They could be weaker in structure, or could be the same and the psychic use is too much, like you just said.”
“Either way, though, not including other factors, this brain burnout is likely to be the cause of death for the mice and monkey babies.”
“I’d agree with that. Did you get anything written last night to present to Kintu?”
She rubbed her face with exhaustion. “No. I had something else come up. Besides, without the mice, the show is much less impressive. But I will get the whole experiment together soon. I need to get a new laptop, too.”
“You’re looking really tired. Are you not sleeping?”
“Not restfully. I’ve been dreaming these past few days. Some I remember and some I don’t. Plus, the stress with the robberies, and Dr. Oversight being all weird—”
“Weird? What’s he doing?”
Melinda groaned. “I don’t know. I’m just worn out. And it’s only Thursday.”
“Take vacation time. Heaven knows you have enough to take a month off.”
Melinda sighed. “Just sleep and spend all day in bed. That would be nice.” And dream about Mr. Beach Man. Her phone rang in her pocket. She took it out and looked at the caller ID. “I need to take this. I’ll see you after lunch.” She grabbed the cage while pushing the answer button and headed for the door.
“Hello.” Melinda jammed the phone between her ear and shoulder as she opened the door and stepped into the hall.
“Melinda, hi. This is Sheri from HR in Atlanta. How are you way over there in Africa?”
“I’m good. It’s beautiful here. The lab is awesome. I couldn’t ask for anything more.” Well, Beach Man came to mind, but eh . . .
“I looked up a Dr. Hamel. We don’t have anyone by the name Parish. We have a Nevel, but no Parish. Could that be a middle name?”
“Could be. I didn’t ask. But I’d pick Parish over Nevel if I had to choose.” She opened the door to her lab and carried the mouse cage to the cabinet under the windows, then leaned against the countertop.
“Yeah, me, too. Sorry I couldn’t have been more help.”
“No, you are definitely a help, Sheri. Thanks for getting on it so quickly.”
“Anything for you, girl. Whenever you come back to the States, let us know. We can all go to the Mexican grill. Bet they don’t have much of that around there.” The baby mouse started running around its cage, banging against the sides like it was trying to get out.
Melinda laughed at the food reference from Sheri. “You so got that right. I’d like to talk longer, but my mouse is having a panic attack or something. Tell everyone I said hi.” The mouse squeaked and she swore it screamed. “Okay, calm down.” She slipped her phone into her pocket, then picked up the cage and headed for the table. Halfway there, the windowpane that had been cut and taped back up the other night came loose and smashed on the counter exactly where she had been standing.
She stumbled toward the table, barely able to get the cage on it before she fell. Her knee smacked on the hard floor, but the pain didn’t register. Her mind was occupied with the splintered glass on the cabinet and ground.
She would’ve been cut badly, with no one around to help her. My god, she could’ve bled to death. If the mouse hadn’t thrown a hissy fit— Oh shit. No way. Did the mouse know it was going to happen? A cold chill rolled down her back, goose bumps prickling her legs.
Leaning away from the table leg, she eyeballed the now quiet mouse. It jumped into its running wheel and took off like nothing happened.
She climbed to her feet and the mouse jumped off its track and ran to the farthest corner from the opening. Melinda reached in and pulled it out. “Sorry, buddy. If you know the future, then I gotta know. We’ll only do a couple things so you don’t burn out. How’s that sound?”
Placing the critter in the middle of a wide, open pen, she pulled out a treat to put in the upper right corner. The mouse scampered to that area. She gave it the reward then paused to think this through.
The mouse could’ve seen the window come loose, ready to fall. But it wouldn’t understand the consequence of that. She watched the little guy sniff along the side of the pen as he walked along. He could’ve read her mind and seen where she was going to put the treat. But that didn’t work for the window event since she didn’t know about it. What were the other options?
One more experiment, then she’d stop so she wouldn’t burn out his connections. It wasn’t possible the mouse could know the future. It hadn’t happened, so how could it know? She hated time-continuum paradoxes and books and movies that tried to get around it. It simply wasn’t possible—she thought, anyway.
Ripping a piece of paper from the pad she carried, she tore it into quarters then wrote numbers one through four so each torn section had one numeral on it. She wadded these into small balls, gathered them into her hands, and shook them as she walked to the pen.
“All right, baby mousey, which corner am I going to pick?” She laid the paper wads on the pen’s floor. The mouse still moved around with what looked like no purpose. When she put a finger on a ball, the mouse scuttled to the lower left corner. “Okay, let’s see if number three is under my finger. If it is, I’ll give you two treats.”
Her heart thumped as she picked up the ball. Fingers shook as she peeled the paper apart. Slowly, the numeral three came into view. Her breath caught. She put two treats in the corner, then repeated one last time with the same results. She even put down the first selected ball and chose a second one. She leaned against the wall. The magnitude of what this meant to the world scared her. She slid down the wall to sit on the floor.
The world would go to war to get their hands on this virus. They would kill anyone in the way to acquire this miracle bug. No wonder her lab had been broken into twice. She froze when realizing the next logical step. Someone knew what the virus was all about. How far would they go to keep her from learning the full potential?