The Experiment, Part Two
Imported from SF2 with no description.
Slowly, Mike regained his composure and surveyed his surroundings. A dead geneticist. Medical and scientific equipment. Computer banks. A pool of blood. A hybrid baby.
The creature he cradled in his arms had grown silent, and he placed her gently back in the crib. She seemed content to study him, and he was grateful she remained silent.
Mike made his way back to the lab entrance to close and lock the door. A plan was beginning to take shape; he would need to erase all evidence of this experiment and report a suicide. He had used his own credentials to gain access to the building, and he couldn't deny knowing the fate of the doctor.
He had also decided he couldn't allow the government to know what the doctor had created. He envisioned cold observation rooms, colder experiments and scientists clamoring for grants and publications at the expense of this creature which bore his own genetic material. Perhaps the doctor had anticipated this response.
Mike made his way to the back of the lab and retrieved his pack containing diagnostic tools and computer software. He nudged the mouse slightly at the computer terminal to bring it out of standby.
On the screen was a document, apparently written by the doctor. It mentioned trouble assimilating to this city, disrespect from colleagues, the inability to handle day to day life any more. A suicide note.
"You fuck," muttered Mike, as he began copying the doctor's research files. Drives whirred and software was ran. Mike would retrieve the data pertaining to this experiment and then delete it, writing over where it had been stored multiple times to make sure it couldn't be recovered.
Content that these processes were being executed, Mike had time to look around and gather more information. A cursory look through the lab turned up diapers, formula, bottles; items one would expect to find at any baby shower. He shook his head as he tried to suppress a surge of anger at the doctor, who seemed to be manipulating him even after death.
About the time that data was being written and rewritten on the lab's drives, Mike had gathered almost all the items he thought he would need to care for this unexpected offspring. He stood over the crib and watched her, and she stared back at him, as if she fully understood the severity of the situation.
Placing her in the cushioned office chair, he began methodically disassembling the crib and packing it away. It was sorely out of place in this setting and besides, he had no child rearing supplies of his own.
A beep signaled the end of the rewrite program. Mike retrieved his tools; software, wiring, external drives. He pulled the doctor's note back up on the screen as if nothing had been disturbed and no baby supplies had shared space with tools for splicing genes.
Mike bundled up this new creature that had been bestowed upon him and left the building as he would normally do. He walked himself, his bicycle and a surprisingly calm child back to his apartment.
He unlocked the door and walked into a space that could have belonged to any twenty-something bachelor; mismatched furniture, nostalgic memorabilia from events passed, empty takeout containers, the obligatory massive television, overpriced gaming hardware.
He unloaded all of the supplies he had gathered, reassembled the crib and placed his offspring inside.
A laugh escaped his mouth then, unexpected and slightly manic: incongruously, the thought of who the mother of this child was had crossed his mind.
He then began the return trip to the lab. Almost back to the entrance, he placed a phone call.
"911, what is your emergency?"
"Uh, the doctor.. in this lab I work in.. I think he shot himself."