Page 65 of Ivory Obsession
The sterile lab seemed to glow eerily under the fluorescent lights, highlighting the rows upon rows of samples like soldiers at attention. Data sheets lay scattered, their numbers a comforting puzzle waiting to be solved. I threw myself into the work, each measurement and calculation a lifeline pulling me away from the edge.
“Replicate and confirm,” I muttered to myself as Ellie hummed along with the music coming through the bluetooth speaker, allowing the progress of the experiment to cocoon me from the storm of emotions. The results, neatly plotted on the graph, were a solid proof of my dedication, a temporary shelter from the turmoil Dante had stirred within me.
“Shit,” I breathed out, feeling the nausea rise unexpectedly. Was it the smell of antiseptic or something else? I took a deep breath, moving away from the pipettes.
“You okay, babe?” Ellie said, turning her head to look back at me.
“Still getting over that flu,” I lied. I hated lying to my best friend, but how could I begin to explain all of this when I was pregnant with the child of a man she had literally warned me about?
“I don’t know. You seem distant,” Ellie’s voice cut through the hum of the lab as she turned around, leaning on a bench behind her.
I turned to face her, forcing a smile that felt foreign on my lips. “It’s nothing, Ellie. Just tired, I guess.” The words came out flat, a poor attempt to deflect her probing gaze.
Ellie’s eyes narrowed as she leaned against the bench, studying me with that analytical mind of hers. “You’ve been absent which isn’t like you and your mood swings are noticeable. Something’s definitely wrong,” she pressed, her voice soft but carrying a weight that demanded honesty.
I willed myself not to look away, to give nothing more away. “I’m fine,” I insisted, but my voice lacked conviction. I could tell she didn’t buy it for a second, and a part of me was grateful for her persistence. “I just haven’t been sick in like, years, and it really took it out of me.”
“Headache again?” Ellie asked, tilting her head to the side with a knowing look.
“Must be all this groundbreaking research frying my brain,” I joked weakly, hoping humor would throw her off the scent.
She let out a small chuckle, but her eyes remained latched onto mine.
“Let’s just get back to the experiment, El,” I said, turning my attention back to the pipettes now that the nausea had subsided a little.
Ellie hesitated for a moment, then shrugged and joined me. We worked in silence, the familiar rhythm of our tasks providing a welcome distraction.
But as I pipetted the final sample into place, I couldn’t shake the dread pooling in my stomach. The fear that Dante’s world—the darkness, the violence, the power plays—had infiltrated mine, and there was no going back. Not even the clean lines and precise calculations of my work could offer true sanctuary now.
“Hey, Jade, any word from Rodriguez about his tech integrity investigation?” Ellie’s question pulled me out of my spiraling thoughts.
I shook my head, trying to appear nonchalant. “No idea. You know how tight-lipped they can be about these things.”
“Right,” she agreed, her focus returning to the lab results. “Hey, would you fuck him?”
“Who? Rodriguez?”
“God, no! He’s not my type,” I said with a laugh, shaking my head. The question was innocent enough, a splash of levity to ease the tension that had been steadily building within me. “Wait. Are you saying…”
“I’m just saying this dry spell is rough,” Ellie said. “Last night I had a date with a guy I met online and it went so poorly.”
“Really? I thought you were excited about this one,” I said, momentarily distracted from my own problems. Ellie dates were always full of unexpected twists; they were a welcome break from the usual patterns of work and research.
“Oh, well, you see, he read I was a scientist, and he really wanted to talk about CRISPR.”
“Aw, he was interested in your job,” I said.
She held a hand up. “No, he wasn’t,” she said. “No, he wanted to talk me out of doing my job. Because it turns out his understanding of CRISPR was based solely on some conspiracy video he saw on YouTube. The whole date turned into a lecture about how we’re all going to become genetically modified super humans,” Ellie rolled her eyes dramatically, her hands waving for emphasis.
“Wait, we’re not? Then why do we even do this shit?” I said with a laugh.
Ellie chuckled along, her head shaking in a mix of disbelief and amusement. “Yeah, I certainly spent all those years studying molecular biology just to secretly create a new race of superhumans.”
“I knew it was Youtube that would eventually come for us.”
Our laughter filled the lab, a welcome reprieve from my haunting thoughts. But even amid the waves of levity, I felt a deep sense of foreboding. One I couldn’t shake off, no matter how hard I tried.
Ellie, still basking in our moment of camaraderie, began cleaning up. “I hope the next one isn’t as crazy,” she said, her back turned to me as she started washing the pipettes.