By Sophia Lashmar, Year 10
“Hmmmmm… What do we have here?” muses the ageing scientist. He raises the vial to eye level and begins to mutter to himself, “What does this mean, this strange outcome, this oddity of science that I’ve just created?” In the vial sits a violent, viscous, purple liquid, which he hurriedly proceeds to pour into a petri dish, before rushing out to attend to his lunchtime meal of gloop, not unlike one of his experiments. Standing in the queue, he speaks in a flat monotone voice, now separated from his one great love, his science. “Sheila, I’ll have some yoghurt stew, if you please”. Sheila isn’t too impressed with his request, however she obeys him nonetheless, given his position as a renowned scientist at the institute.
She chirps back sarcastically, “Coming right up, your highness,” with a smirk added for some effect.
The Scientist looks down at his watch impatiently and all of a sudden, is struck by a revelation. He had used the wrong petri dish. The Scientist had wild, wiry and tousled hair, the colour of clouds on a rainy day, with a matching set of frazzled eyebrows. His eyes, discs of steel enclosed by surprisingly long lashes like everlasting snowflakes, never missed a thing. A short, heavy-set, paunchy man, his lab coat would often brush the floor. A brilliant, but frustrated scientist who had made a few too many mistakes, a few too many times. While his many achievements, accomplishments and breakthroughs outnumbered his failures, his employers decided to put him on the safest project they could find – a veterinary Covid-84 vaccine research team, named for the year in which the outbreak had begun. His ‘team’ consisted of Andrew, a graduate student, Klaus, the test monkey, and himself. Given the vast number of Covid vaccines that had been developed over the years, he’d thought this research would be a piece of cake. He was annoyed that the university wasn’t appreciating his numerous talents; that he was stuck on a futile research project that no one cared about.
He ran at full pelt out of the lunch room, slipping and sliding on the squeaky polished floors, heading for his laboratory, realising the full impact of the mistake he had made. As he entered the room, he saw Klaus swinging triumphantly in his cage, his lips moving incessantly. At first, he thought Andrew was talking, but as he looked around the room, he realised he was all alone, except from Klaus. The monkey was talking. He stood staring, dumbfounded, at the petri dish, the reality of his mistaken experimental research beginning to dawn upon him. Klaus, meanwhile, was spurting out a torrent of righteous words, not stemmed by the look of utter devastation on the Scientist’s face. The Scientist’s thoughts were, first, the university would never trust him again and second, what on earth was he going to do to contain or even reverse this disaster. First of all, he had to figure out the full effects of the incident. He turned to Klaus, who was listing all the pros and cons of animal testing, mainly the downsides.
“Do you have any idea what you’ve put me through? Animal testing isn’t a joke, you know! Now you can hear me, I’m going to make it clear, I’m going to liberate your animal prisoners! We don’t want to be your test monkeys anymore!” With that, Klaus let himself out of the cage and scampered down the corridor. The Scientist sprinted after him as fast as he could and entered the room containing all the test animals. As he looked up, he hardly dared to use his eyes to confirm what his ears already knew. They were all talking. What he’d inadvertently created was airborne, and it wasn’t a Covid vaccine.
Two weeks later, after a disastrous round of meetings and disciplinary hearings, the now unemployed scientist found himself meandering around his local supermarket, trying to find something, anything to eat. Other people mirrored his confused expression and followed his footsteps up and down the aisles. There were no eggs, because the chickens had begun to revolt, and had demanded better working conditions, and payment for their services. There was no milk, no butter, and no cheese, as the cows had all become fed up with being poked and prodded all day long, and had instigated a strike. The animals that would have been slaughtered for human consumption had begun to plead, beg and debate with their killers. The pigs, being smarter than the rest, had done their research, and made their case to stay alive. Thoroughly convinced by their concise and poignant arguments, the abattoir workers conceded. The sheep had their young bleat and whine in fear and fright to make the farmers feel guilty. The only items left to buy were without any animal products in them. Most of these had already been stockpiled by the greedy few, reminding the elderly of the old days, back to the times of Covid-19, when stockpiling wasn’t prohibited by law.
After what felt like an eternity, the Scientist escaped the barren, desolate supermarket and trudged along to the pharmacy, his feet dragging across the cold, rainy concrete. He needed more allergy tablets, to counter the effects of all the newly escaped animals running around. His catastrophic virus had gone worldwide. As he rounded the corner, he was flabbergasted by a long queue of coughing and sneezing people. The faintly illuminated green cross was flickering on and off, as if weary of all the people coming and going, carrying their illnesses and ailments about with them. The shopfront had a worn and grimy appearance. There was mold flowering around the corners of the windows, which were smeared a sludgy brown with dirt and pollution. The once green and white striped awning was now torn and frayed at the edges, like a forgotten toy abandoned long ago. The grey, troubled sky above framed the whole scene, adding to the morose and tense mood of the inhabitants below.
At last, after nearly two hours of standing in the queue, the Scientist eventually found himself in the shop. It was the first of the month, the date when the newly updated human Covid-84 vaccine had been scheduled for release. However, the release of the vaccine had been abandoned, due to the refusal of the animals to cooperate, in a similar fashion to that of the farm animals. To make matters worse, without animal testing, cosmetic products and regular medecines were also in short supply. As a result, women couldn’t obtain their makeup, aspirin was nowhere to be seen, and the Scientist couldn’t get his antihistamine.
Drained and despondent, he left the pharmacy empty-handed and made his way home to drown his sorrows in a rather unconventional way, to blow something up (chemically, of course). He felt wholly responsible for the surrounding carnage. Awoken from his reverie, he was drawn towards the commotion that was the local animal shelter. Habitually deserted, today it was overflowing with people. He was confused as to what could have possibly happened. Intrigued, he jostled and elbowed his way through to the hive of activity. People were clamouring to be heard and for their pets to be processed. Above the hubbub and consternation, he stopped an approachable looking woman and asked, in what he considered to be his most appealing tone, “Excuse me, but what on earth has happened? Why does no one want their pets?” She turned to him, shocked that he didn’t know what had happened,
“Oh, it’s awful, the animals are demanding their needs be met left, right and centre. It’s impossible to cope! I’m worn out, frazzled! They’re screaming and shouting that they want food, exercise, treats, attention and to see their friends! It’s like having toddlers or teenagers, I can’t decide which! C’est insupportable!” The woman was clearly French, made obvious by the torrent of incomprehensible words that proceeded to pour out of her mouth. He walked around and gathered that the feeling was unanimous. The room, crammed full of people with their dogs, cats, rabbits, hamsters, ferrets, parrots, tortoises, and even a few fish in bowls! Leaving in a daze, he had to swerve to avoid the masses of animals roaming the streets. The realisation dawned upon him that some pets had left their owners by choice.
As the Scientist approached his dismal, shoebox-sized apartment, he began to ponder what the future would hold. He wondered if there could possibly be a happily ever after, but only time would tell…
