[pseudoclever]

Chapter Two

Soon his task was complete. Zayne snapped the access panel shut, and heard the faint clink of new test tubes falling into place. A moment later there came a hiss of hydraulic pressure, and once more the room was enveloped by the machine?s steady hum. Sighing, he hefted the tray into his arms and carried it over to the refrigerator. As he set it down to open the big double doors, something brushed against his arm. Startled, he whirled to see Ms. Lambrie standing next to him.

?Sorry, didn?t mean to spook you!? she yelled over the cacophony, and pointed at the vials. ?Mind handing me one of those??

?Sure!? He moved to pass her a test tube, but then hesitated. There was something intriguing about Ms. Lambrie, a strange sort of visual dissonance between her goggles and the rest of her face, and for some reason he found it nearly impossible to look away. The glasses were a bit too big for her, and they had a minor distortion effect almost like a fisheye lens. It might have made her appear ridiculous, but Zayne thought that it only served to draw attention to her eyes. They were large and round, and seemed to glow like polished wood. Her skin was a pale, almost porcelain white, and was so smooth that had he seen her on the cover of a magazine, he would have assumed she had been airbrushed. Ms. Lambrie had high cheek bones and a small, slightly upturned nose. She looked, he thought, almost like an elf from one of his fantasy stories ? tiny, delicate, and blessed with an otherworldly beauty.

It took Zayne perhaps the space of three heartbeats to make these observations. He was sure, however, that Ms. Lambrie had noticed the pause ? and worse, had understood its nature. Pressing the vial into her outstretched hand he turned, feeling his cheeks grow hot, and hurried away. As he moved there came a sound that could possibly have been her calling after him. The room was so loud that he couldn?t be entirely certain, and in any case he didn?t stop to find out. Instead he returned to his desk and, sitting down, opened his sketchbook.

For a while he could only stare at the blank page before him. When he was finally able to summon up the courage to look in her direction, she was standing with her back to him, absorbed in her work. He clutched at his pencil, trying not to dwell on what had just happened.

It seemed only moments later that the buzzer sounded, and Zayne felt as well as heard the centrifuge begin to slow down. He blinked, bringing himself out of a deep reverie. It was as though he had been half asleep and, wakened suddenly, remembered only fragments of the dream he had just been lost within. He knew, logically, that at least forty-five minutes had elapsed since he sat down. What had he been doing all that time? The paper in front of him held only....

Circles. Circles within circles. Circles attached to other circles. He didn't recall drawing any of them. How strange. He had heard of sleep walking...but sleep-sketching?

Still in a fog, Zayne stood, cracking his neck, and sauntered over to the giant machine. As he did, he couldn?t resist stealing another covert glance at Ms. Lambrie. She was still faced away from him, carefully pouring a small amount of liquid into a tall, thin flask. The woman was forced to stand on her tip toes in order to reach the container's opening high above her. He wondered if she would be offended if he offered to fetch her a step stool.

Suddenly she looked over her shoulder, and caught his eye. He felt an electric jolt shoot through his body as their gazes met, and once more Zayne found himself unable to look away. As he stared, he noticed the way a few wisps of her long brown hair had fallen down over her glasses. How he wanted to reach out and brush them away?.

?Mr. Williams??

Zayne started visibly. ?Yeah, sorry. What can I do for you?? He felt hot blood pounding in his temples ? but at least he could move again.

?Do you think you could bring me one of the tubes from that batch you?re unloading?? She smirked at him. ?That way I won?t have to chase you down, like last time.?

Zayne let out a short bark of a laugh, and obediently carried one of the small glass containers over to her. She took it from him, and clamped it into what looked like a tiny plastic-tipped vice. As he watched, his curiosity overcame his self-consciousness. ?Mind if I ask what you?re doing? I mean, if you think I would understand it,? he added hastily.

?Sure,? she said, not taking her eyes off her work. ?I mentioned earlier that I?m testing for a particular active group on the molecule. I?m trying to make sure that the group is a ketone, and not an aldehyde. Do you know what that means??

?Umm?not?as such,? he mumbled, feeling embarrassed.

Ms. Lambrie set down her flask and turned to regard him. ?That?s okay. Not many people would. Hm?how can I explain this?.? She peered up at Zayne, her eyebrows furrowed in thought. For no reason, he found himself wondering exactly how tall she was. The top of her head was at least an inch below his collar bone, which put her around...four ten? Four eleven, maybe? What was it like to be so short? He wondered if she had been teased in high school.

Luckily, she began to speak again before this train of thought could get out of hand, and he forced himself back to reality. ?Okay, let?s try this. Hold out your hand this way.? She demonstrated, making a fist with her thumb folded over and her index finger extended. He watched, and duplicated her actions. ?Good. So, you?re a phenol group. We want you to be attached on the end of the molecule we?re trying to synthesize. That?s the reason why all these tubes are being mixed in the centrifuge. If you manage to combine with the rest of the structure, everything?s great. You?re part of what makes the drug work. With me so far??

Zayne nodded.

?Good. So let?s say that I?m the primary molecule. We want you to connect to me. The only problem is, my active group is an aldehyde.? As she spoke, she fixed her hand with her thumb pointing upward and forefinger curled back upon itself, as though pulling a trigger. ?There?s nowhere for you to grab hold. See?? Ms. Lambrie rapped her knuckle against the tip of his finger. ?And that?s bad, because not only does it make the drug not work, but it means that YOU, Mr. Phenol, are just floating around in the solution. And by yourself, you?re a deadly poison.

?But!? she exclaimed, beaming at him. ?Let?s say I?m a ketone.? She straightened her index finger, holding her hand the way a child would to mime a gun. ?In that case I have an open slot, and so?.? She reached out, wrapping her finger around his and pulling firmly. Zayne felt his heart skip a beat. ??we can bond.?

For two wonderful seconds, Ms. Lambrie smiled up at him, her eyes twinkling. Then a dark flush began to creep across her pale cheeks. She released his hand, and turned back to the lab bench. ?That?s the general idea, anyway. My finger is a mono-substituted carbon atom and yours is a hydroxyl group. The test I?m doing will positively indicate the presence of an aldehyde ? the bad one ? by precipitating the metallic cation from the Tollens' reagent.? She spoke quickly now, and Zayne wondered why she had suddenly retreated into her clinical language again.

Determined to build on the ground he had gained, he took a half step forward. ?Do you mind if I watch you run the test? It sounds interesting.?

?Sure, I guess. But if everything goes the way it should, it'll be really boring.? She picked up the flask of clear solution she had been working with earlier, then paused. ?Actually, do you want to give this a try? You showed me how to do your job, after all. The least I could do is return the favor.?

?I supposed,? he answered, frowning slightly. ?Is it hard??

?Not this part, no. Just do as I say and you'll be fine.? She stepped out of the way, and with an encouraging look pressed the container into his hand. ?Okay, put the lip of the graduated cylinder up against the test tube. I've already measured out ten milliliters of reagent. Pour all of it into the vial of PT-2715...the yellowish stuff. And make sure you don?t spill any.?

He did as she instructed, moving slowly and deliberately. ?Good,? she said. ?Now, pick up that glass stirring rod resting on the bench, and mix it up a little.? The instant he disturbed its surface, the material took on a lustrous, metallic color. Zayne could see Ms. Lambrie's image reflected within it, distorted like a fun house mirror.

?Ah, that's definitely a positive test,? she said, disappointed. ?The nitrate anion bonded with an aldehyde, and the silver precipitated out of the solution.?

?It's beautiful,? Zayne said, transfixed by the shimmering glass.

Ms. Lambrie looked at him quizzically. Once more she regarded the test tube, her expression softening. ?I...you're right, it is. I've been doing this kind of work for so long, I must have forgotten.? She lifted the container from the bench top, and carefully, almost reverently, poured its contents down the sink.

?Hey! Why did you do that?? Zayne shouted.

She winced. ?No...it's not?.? Ms. Lambrie held up the emptied vial for him to see. A thin layer of silver remained, coating its surface. ?It'll stay like this.?

Zayne's eyes widened, and he opened his mouth to apologize. Before he could speak, she cut him off. ?Documented procedure in the case of a positive Tollens? test is to dispose of the contaminated test tube.? The clinical language again, he thought wryly. But maybe, just maybe, he was starting to understand what it meant. ?But perhaps, under the circumstances, we can bend the rules.? She offered the shining container up to him, a nervous smile pressed on her lips. ?Would you like to have it??

He blinked. ?Y-yes. Yes, I think I'd like that. I'd like that very much.? Not knowing what else to say, he took it from her outstretched hand. He held it above his head, admiring the way it refracted the light. The thing was like a work of art. It made him wonder if he could ever create something so lovely.

By then it was time to go home. Zayne walked back over to his side of the room, and carefully wrapped the silvered test tube in a sheet of paper from his notebook. He packed up his belongings, slipping the vial into his coat pocket.

Behind him, Ms. Lambrie was pressing a yellow sticky-note with a large ?X? drawn on it onto the tray. ?It's a bad batch,? she explained, gesturing. ?We can't give this stuff to our test subjects; it would kill them. This is to let the clean-up crew know to get rid of it.?

?Oh.?

Pulling off her safety goggles, Ms. Lambrie walked toward the door. Zayne followed. ?Well,? she said, her voice wavering slightly. ?It was nice meeting you, Mr. Williams. Do you work tomorrow??

He nodded. ?Monday through Friday, rain or shine. And ahh.... thanks again for...you know.? He hesitated, and at last decided to say it. ?If you want, you can just call me Zayne. ?

She smiled at him warmly. ?You're welcome, Zayne. And please, call me Bella.?


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Thank you for sticking with me through this rather long introduction phase. The action starts in tomorrow's chapter.