Short fiction: Experimentation
In this science-inspired work of short fiction, Tania Hershman explores a most bewildering aspect of our human nature
(Image: Mauro Fermariello/Science Photo Library)
12.03 pm
He sits at the microscope, counting bacteria. He hears her coming. She stands by his bench. She picks up a pipette.
He sits at the microscope, counting bacteria. He hears her coming. She stands by his bench. She picks up a pipette.
"I'd rather you didn't do that," he says.
"Oh," she says. "OK." And she puts the pipette back and walks off.
He writes in his notebook: "12.03 I say: 'I'd rather you didn't do that.' She says: 'Oh, OK'." He sets his timer for half an hour.
12.33 pm
He sits at the microscope, counting bacteria. He hears her coming. She stands by his bench. She picks up a pipette. He looks up. He smiles at her.
He sits at the microscope, counting bacteria. He hears her coming. She stands by his bench. She picks up a pipette. He looks up. He smiles at her.
"Hi," he says.
"Oh," she says. "Sorry, I was just..." and she puts the pipette back and walks off.
He writes in his notebook: "12.33 I say 'hi'. She says 'oh, sorry I was just...'." He sets his timer for half an hour.
1.03 pm
He sits at the microscope, counting bacteria. He hears her coming. She stands by his bench. She picks up a pipette. He looks up. He holds out his hand. She slowly places the pipette in his palm as if it were a small animal. She grins. He nods. She walks off.
He sits at the microscope, counting bacteria. He hears her coming. She stands by his bench. She picks up a pipette. He looks up. He holds out his hand. She slowly places the pipette in his palm as if it were a small animal. She grins. He nods. She walks off.
He writes in his notebook: "1.03 I hold out my hand. She says nothing. Hands over the pipette. Grins."
That's enough for today. He puts the plates of bacteria away and goes into the office, where he sits down at his laptop and records the new results. He decides that for the rest of the week he will make more variations. Tomorrow he will wear a lab coat. On Thursday he will vary the time intervals by leaving the room shortly after each encounter. On Friday, he will turn the lab radio to another station.
He gets up to go for lunch. She is sitting at the other end of the office, her back to him, listening to something on her headphones. As he leaves the room he remembers how it felt as she handed him back the pipette, her warm fingers touching his cold palm. newscientist
http://www.newscientist.com/
No comments:
Post a Comment