20 years after
“I think we are missing something.” Dr. Austin Lazure shrugged.
He raised his eyes from the microscope he’d been deeply focusing.
“What is it, Doc?” asked Benedict Arnold, his assistant.
“I still haven’t figured it out,” said he.
He moved a muscle, back away, and fixed his eye goggles. He ventured his eyes on the three test tubes with different liquids inside each from left to right— red, blue, and yellow. His eyes glued on the liquids, hesitant by their calmness, then he moved his eyes, on the monitor screen which showed the reflection of the three test tubes with fluids inside. The monitor flashed like a television screen with poor signal apparent by unsteady pixels of black and white. Reluctantly, it grew into waves of composed radiant lights clearly showing the images of the test tubes; he moved his bare fingers cloaked in laboratory gloves into the keyboard which showed like a piano keyboard. He pressed the white presser resulting in the boiling of the fluids.
“Aww,” reacted Benedict when the fluids burst out from the test tubes.
It displayed a volcanic eruption scenery.
Toot… Toot… Toot…
“Shut down the power director immediately,” ordered Dr. Austin Lazure.
Toot… Toot… Toot…
Red lights illuminated inside the broad laboratory which meant a warning signal of danger. As fast as he could, Benedict jumped off from one desk and pulled down the power director. The red light faded replaced by the green light— the normal ambiance inside the laboratory which meant neutral. The place returned to its normal temperature.
Dr. Austin Lazure roughly took off the gloves enclosing his hands and threw them into the trash bin. He heaved a sigh, then leaned on the metal desk.
“Failed again Doc? We better luck next time,” said Benedict removing his laboratory suit.
“We are lacking something with the specimen.” He breathed thickly.
“We’ll figure it out asap, Doc.”
“Sure we will. Just think positive, huh.” He cracked a little subtle laughter seeing the messy surroundings.
“It will bring us success, Doc.”
“Soon enough.”
“If you please, Madame, Dr. Austin Lazure ordered not to disturb him when he is inside the laboratory.”
“It’s urgent Miss, and he knows this. We’ve agreed with this matter already.”
“My apology Madame but it’s against the Al-Muzzinih Hospital, Diagnostics, and LabCorp Norms and Standards to gatecrash the laboratory secretary within this hour.”
“Can’t you comprehend Miss? My purpose is urgent.”
“I’m only doing my Oh-oh madam. You can come back by the next time.”
“Are you insulting my visit? I won’t let this mannerless action pass. I’ll report this case. I can sue you with this Miss. So decide now, it’s either you allow me to talk to him right now— of this juncture or you’ll lose your job now? I’m serious."
Their conversation was interrupted by the exchanging of words of the two feminine voices. Dr. Austin Lazure immediately recognized Chelsea Tavares’ calm voice, his secretary— and the other woman’s tight voice whom he swiftly knew. He drew a grimace over his face.
“Oh-oh,” said Benedict mockingly.
“What time is it?”
Benedict looked at his wristwatch.
“Ten minutes before 10 am, Doc.”
“I have to go. I have a business to deal with.”
“And she?”
“She’s always a part of. Fetching me, I guess.” He smirked.
He removed his laboratory gown, remaining his bottom clothes— blue polo and black Khaki paired with white tennis shoes.
“Good luck, Doc.”
He grabbed the doorknob.
“Thanks.”
Before his right hand twisted the knob, he turned back almost choking his laughter remembering that he’d almost forgotten.
“By the way, command the Cleaning Faculty to fix up this mess. We’ll get back to this project as possible as we can.”
“Not a problem Doc. Let me handle this. Have a nice trip."
The door crunched for open.
“Thanks for the generosity Chels. Let me accompany her.”
He zeroed his eyes to his secretary before drawing an arc on his lips. The other woman was about to open her mouth when their attention diverted on the Caucasian man in front of them. Ms. Chelsea Tavares released a sigh."
“She wants to talk to you, Doc.
”
“Thank you,” said he smiling at her as Ms. Chelsea Tavares meticulously turned her back taking her sandals away from them.
“You’re late,” said the woman. Her voice remained tight.
“Wouldn’t you consider the busy doctor?” He wore his glasses on.
“I thought the doctor keeps track on time.” She folded her arms.
“Yes, he does follow a strict schedule.” He smiled at her sarcastically.
He glanced at his wristwatch “I still have five minutes. You’re a little earlier. Follow me to the office.”
It took them not a single talk towards his office which was up a staircase and three corridors from the laboratory.
She followed his indignant shoeprints towards his ward.
“DR. AUSTIN LAZURE MEDICAL OFFICE,” it said printed at the white wooden door. He grabbed a key from his pocket and inserted the golden key on the keyhole.
“Apologies for the messy piles. I ordered the cleaning staff not to junk these piles nor wrist watching just this morning.”
He switched the lights on and moved to the windows— opening these and folding the silk white curtains. She spread her eyes across the room. A bunch of piles and papers were disorderly put on the table. She saw the topmost folder labeled with patients’ medical records. She moved her eyes to the bookshelf— the books were organized and well-arranged except for one book with a brown cover laying in the middle divider of the shelf. At the edge of the shelf, a white doctor’s coat was hung along with the stethoscope. Austin continued opening the other windows and folding the silk white curtains covering it afterward. Radiant gleaned from the window combining the lights of the bulbs and fluorescents.
She continued scrutinizing the room, reaching her eyes on the three white sofas with a mini-table in front that faced on the wide television screen. She cringed when she saw the bread almost soaked in green molds on the mini-table beside a glass of coke.
Not hospitable for a visitor, she thought.
“Are we gonna talk important matters now or we’ll be doing general cleaning?” She rolled her eyes seeing him grab a broom at the corner of the bookshelf.
“My apology Madame,” he copied the same tight of voice she had.
“Are you sure you are a doctor? Maybe you are an imposture,” she blabbered.
“A dople ganger Madame,” said he in a loud fake feminine tone.
He put back the broom on its place, paced towards his desk, and arrange the papers impulsively.
“Here, have a sit.” He pointed to the chair in front of his table.
“First and foremost, your patient will get sick by only seeing the environment of your office.”
She grabbed the chair, and seat in a number four sign on her legs.
“It’s none of your business Madame,” he said in defiant.
“You are also talking to a doctor, Doc.” She emphasized the word “doctor”.
“I don’t want to fight with you Miss Psychologist.”
“If I were your mother, I would recommend you get a wife. That is if you are living in a boarding house or condo— but, you are in your own medical office— having these mess,” she fizzled.
“Glad you are not my mother.”
“Why are the cleaning staffs not allowed to clean your office and you are the one handling the cleaning alone?” She glared at him with her hands gripped at the edge of the table.
“Okay, Zans. You are not my mother nor my sister. You are just my best friend, so proceed to our meeting.”
“Well I am not only a best friend here, but a project mate and a co-doctor of a different institution,” she protested.
“ I would like to bet if you could close your eyes so it wouldn’t sore seeing my place, that we could proceed to what you referred urgently lately,” he enunciated.
He grabbed a pen from its holder, fidgeted it in his fingers, and leaned his head on the headrests of his chair while it moved in an arching motion.
“Alright,” her voice stilled.
“We’ve found her.”
He was stopped when he heard her last words. His eyes grew serious zeroing hers.
“Where?”
“At the Sprusse.”