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Lacey arrived back at the Bovinex compound to bring Frank the good news. For the first time in the programme's lifetime they had impressed their boss with the results. It'd helped that their test subjects were still alive and kicking, instead of an autopsy report and a great many pleadings of 'we'll get it right next time'!

She'd gone to meet her superior — Director Tim Evans — with a cache of reports, and most importantly video evidence of their success. After a full day of meetings, agonising over every detail, Lacey was exhausted. She wanted nothing else but a chance to slump on a couch for what remained of the day. But she had duties outstanding. Frank needed to be updated on her meeting.

“Right," she began as Frank entered the office, her complexion reddened from continuously talking and gesturing at whiteboards for hours on end, “I've got some good news, and some bad news. Which first?"

“Erm...let's go with good."

“We're not out of a job," she beamed, “Evans is impressed by what we've done!"

Frank could see a noticeable change in Lacey's expression after the news. Was to be expected after all, the project she'd poured a significant portion of her working life into here at Bovinex was finally paying off.

“Woo-hoo," he responded with a miniature air punch, “told you I could get the formula right."

“Yes you did." Lacey gave more details on their meetings: “I covered extensively the genetic modification procedures, the containment chamber and monitoring systems, the workflow we devised for administering and testing the serum effects. Quarantine, land acquisition, legal compliance. Everything you helped me prep for."

“Hey I just gave you a bunch of glorified bullet points and some lab recordings, you're the one who's good at all that business talk." His cheeriness left him, and Frank moved to the more concerning news: “so, what's the bad news?"

Lacey stalled for a moment, thinking on how best to phrase it.

“Director Evans, while happy with the programme at this point, can't secure additional funding without a few more nods from the board. So we're in limbo right now, regarding future expansion."

“That's...a downer."

“To say the least..." Lacey was hopeful her and Frank's work could continue. They'd only gotten this far on a shoestring corporate budget, with every last penny spent on the Reimonds and their farm.

“But," she added, “we have a call tomorrow to hash out the details with the boss. Plan of attack for the other shareholders."

“Good, good." Frank was still worried about the closure of the project, but had enough confidence in Lacey to keep on going.

* * *

The following day, Ms. Cain and her chief scientist prepared in the conference room to receive the call from Director Evans. It was raining heavily outside, so the overall mood in the room was pretty glum.

Upon hearing the first ring, she picked it up as fast as humanly possible. Impatient. Nervous, but eager. Ready to talk the talk.

“Director Evans. Good morning."

Her superior — although someone who occasionally liked to crack wise and act informally — began the conversation proper almost immediately, skipping any small talk. This was a business call. No time for chit-chat. Soon the dialogue turned to the results of their success with the Reimond family.

“As I said to Lacey the other day, impressive stuff. The board doesn't share my optimism however."

Lacey went silent for a moment. “Uh...yes sir. In what way do they disagree?"

“Well...there's diversity. Ranging from 'it isn't cost-effective' to 'we shouldn't be playing God like this' to 'she's lied about everything to try to salvage her career'!"

That last remark pissed her off. It was all well and good to criticise how she went about her work, but to outright accuse her of faking the successful experiment! The nerve. If she knew who'd said that they'd be gasping for air as she strangled them in a fit of rage.

“Ms. Cain?"

“Oh," she snapped out of her revenge fantasy. It had been a few seconds of dead air too long. “Sorry," she apologised, “I had something on my mind."

“Let us continue."

“Of course."

“Board members aside. I've been talking with my own people, and while I said this was all very impressive stuff, there have been two reservations voiced."

He continued: “One — reproducibility. The subjects underwent great physical stresses and, basically, clung to life, where previous attempts ended less...pleasantly. Can you assure me that you can speed up successful procedures? Bearing in mind, as what Dr. Trimble's report here states, the serum must be tailored to the individual. Costs time and money."

“I see. Well—"

“Two: security. You mentioned your subjects as being from a relatively isolated part of the country, willing to surrender their independence for financial aid. What I'm asking is how many people do you expect to be able to 'treat' while keeping it secret?"

“Not many with the resources I have right now."

“Well, that's the incentive for us to convince the others at least..."

“And regarding your first point, practice is the only thing that can guarantee better and better results. Iteration."

Frank took a turn to speak. “If I may interject here..."

“Ah, Frankenstein himself! Was wondering when you'd talk. I do look forward to eventually meeting you in person by the way, fascinating field of study."

“Thank you sir...what I was about to say was..."

Lacey gave a sigh of relief. Frank had taken over to insert his own brand of technobabble to the conversation, giving her a much-needed break. She sat down on one of the chairs beside the conference table, afforded a minute or two to compose herself. The two voices becoming fainter and fainter the more they talked, the more she rested her weary mind...

“And you're absolutely sure there's no health effects?"

At that sceptical note Lacey felt she had to step in. “Video #23. Product safety review. You and I watched it. Hell, at the end of it Frank here even sampled the 'product' to assure you there're no issues."

“He didn't look too pleased about it."

“Yeah well, I knew where it came from. Joe Public won't."

“Carl — Mr. Redweather — and I sourced potential buyers and gave them samples. They went nuts. Literally! Couldn't get enough of the stuff. It's milk...a special blend of fortified milk. It has the potential to be the next big health food craze if we play our cards right. No-one will really care where it came from, it's fucking dairy!"

She was playing it risky by swearing over the phone to her boss, but Lacey was confident she could win him back over.

“I...uh...appreciate the passion you've put into your work Ms. Cain. And really, I'm not the one you need to convince. But, with all that said, I'll try my best to get a couple more board members to buy into supporting the programme."

“Thank you, Mr. Evans."

“I'm not going to lie, it'll be tough. You need one hell of a pitch to assure them the project remains safe, scalable, and secure."

“Yes Mr. Evans." they replied in unison.

“One hell of a pitch. Remember that."

Lacey was about to say her goodbyes and hang up the phone, but Director Evans got one last word in: “I think I need to meet with you two in person, at your lab."

Click.

Beep, beep, beep.

The tone blared out over the conference room speakers until Lacey finally placed the receiver back where it belonged. Frank looked mortified.

“You okay there?"

“Yeah," he replied, “I'm just...not a fan of long, important conversations. Especially with people who have the power to shit-can my job if they don't like what they hear."

“He's not that bad."

“Not who I'm worried about. You heard what he said about the rest of the board of directors. Another uphill battle..."

He was correct. Lacey sat, dejected. What on Earth could she do to convince people who don't even seem to have taken an honest look at her work? What more could they ask for? A decade. A whole decade of her life basically thrown away because some upper management pricks barely read the dossier she'd spent ages compiling.

It works. It actually works! If they just understood that...then maybe the funding would come in. As much as she respected her boss, she was beginning to think he couldn't convince them without a miracle.

Hold on, she thought, hold on a minute here. Lacey spent awhile deep in thought, taking stock of her life up to this point. Never married, except to the profession. Forty-two. Stressed the fuck out. Her job on the line. An idea leapt her head. What had she got to lose?

“I've got a plan. It's risky though."

She'd come this far, after all...