In the Wake – Part 2 – The Doctor

<< Part 1 – The Entrepreneur

I hate working on a schedule with every beat of my artificial heart. Science might be all about the logic and the math, but mad science is art. Even a genius can’t produce a clone out of Picasso’s and Dali’s DNA and hope it’ll bring forth the new visual revolution in its first diaper. No matter how entertaining that would be. Mad science needs to be nurtured, developed. It’s creation and for that, even God took seven days and had no one breathing down his neck. Even mad science can’t prove His existence but that is not the point now, is it?
I moved around the gurney to pick up a heated spoon and drop the one I had in hand in the boiling water. Back to my initial position, I carefully scrapped the surface on the yellowish mass to carve another tentacle.
Deadlines rob feasibility right out of the genetically-enhanced chromosomes. It slaughters embryonic idea and splatters their bloody goo all over the floor without a care for the slipperiness that ensues nor the threat said slipperiness poses to my life. Deadlines are tantamount to murderers. They also drive me nuts… ier… nutsier… mad science can’t prove the existence of that concept either.
I took a few paces back to look at my work. If I angled my head fifteen degrees to the left a deformity revealed itself to me. I picked up a freshly heated spoon and smoothed the ungracious bump.
Working for Arthur McCallister has its advantages; labs that will only be considered high technology in ten years, endless funds, lots of toys, all-you-can-eat desert bar… But it also implies deadlines. He’s pressured by The Heroic to produce paper selling news and by his shareholders to maintain profit growth. So he pressures me. I understand the laws of physics. Doesn’t mean I won’t try to bent and break them every day.
With a last twist of wrist, I sent the unwanted portion of jelly flying into the toxic waste bucket. I grabbed the cables on the counter and pinned them to each tentacles’ extremity. I repeated the process on the sculpture I completed earlier. They looked like caramel pudding and I fought my compulsion to lick them. I wasn’t sure whether it would add or rip artistry from my volatile mind. My bills couldn’t afford one of those options.
Every villain is bound to get his ass kicked by a superhero one day. Not me. That’s another perk of working for McCallister. As long as I play God within the deadlines, my artificially created weapons species are deployed without any way for the supers to trace them back to me. McCallister has the means to make people disappear. I should know. I built most of said means.
I twisted the knob and watched electricity giggle its way through the pudding. The smell reminded me of an arm wrapped in polyester grilling in a Hookah lounge. Ah! Good times… I watched impatiently as caramel pudding turned to bright lemon jello.
The process always impresses me. There’s something rewarding in the knowledge that my brain brought a whole new individual to life. It fills me with the same joy any parents feels when their child is born. Except that I don’t need to wait nine month, though that can probably be solved by having multiple partners. Hm…
“It’s alive!” I yelled as my babies cried in pain for the first time. One must abide by the classics or the world’s a goner. I turned off the electricity and the twins stopped writhing. They tentatively stretched their tentacles and pushed themselves off the gurneys. I applauded. Positive reinforcement is key at such an early age. One of them coughed up a fireball that grazed the side of my face. Another McCallister perk; skin fitting, all experiment-proof Hazmat suits.
“I really wonder what marketing will call you for your big showdown.” I patted his head with a soft brush of my protective gear. It rumbled. A bit like a cat purring with razor blades in its throat. I loved it. “Gosh, I could spend the day playing with you guys. Too bad I gotta go!”
I smoothly walked backward past the special glass door and closed it in front of me. The cage was especially built to withstand the violence of my creations. The twins didn’t throw any tantrum however, which worried me. Did I mess up the anger dosage? That could wait.
I called McCallister’s office and told his secretary I expected him at the lab. He would probably make his way here in an hour. I head to the back to clean my instruments. I was almost done when I heard the faint scuffing of the boss’s pricey shoes.
“Come in!” I yelled while I rinsed the last spoon, “Behind the glass on your right.” That would keep him occupied while I regrouped my tools in my carrying tray.
 “Awesome destructive potential. I’m sure the superhero will have a hard time with this one.”I hear as I walked back to toward the creation zone. “How long until it reaches full maturity?”
“Two weeks,” I replied. “What do you mean ‘it’?” His annoyed sigh irked me.
 “Did you give it a name again? You know it breaks your heart when they die with a name.”
“No.” I answered. I hate it when he treats me like a retard. I glanced at the glass prison. “Hm… where is its twin?”
In a flash of motion, I saw McCallister go down under the intruder’s blow. Simultaneously, a tentacle wrapped around my ankles and pulled me to the ground. My creation tickled me, obviously in a mood to play.
“Baby, now is really not a good time!” I grunted, trying to push my creation aside without being burnt and before the black shadow reached me.

Part 3 – The Secretary >>