10
Tuesday’s lab time and the whole of Wednesday passed in a whirlwind of graphics, data collection, and sleepless hours spent preparing for the impending federal visit. Somewhere in the helix of Dr. Kramer’s demands, Ethan managed to submit the Eischer-Langhoff grant application. He celebrated by stretching his neck away from his computer and reading a single page ofThis Is How You Lose the Time Warat… was it really after three o’clock in the morning?
Bunsen’s runs were abbreviated jogs around the patio.
Still, he paused in the Modern Physics kitchenette on Thursday to inconvenience Erin by dumping the last of the oat milk into his mug—even if this super-quantity of creamer made his caffeine almost undrinkable. He smirked at his rival’s outrage as he tossed away the carton in front of her, his mug overflowing. Coffee spilled out onto his jeans when he tried to carry it down the hall to his office. His messages with Forster kept him smiling, though.
Forster
Approaching the sudoku starting line. Twenty-two hours to go. I hope you’re quick on the draw.
His pen paused mid-doodle. He snorted.
Ethan
Puns? This early?
Forster
I told you: I’m a menace.
Ethan
Remind me not to get on your bad side.
Forster
As long as I win tomorrow, I’ll keep the peace.
Forster
…unlike the turkeys by my office building. They were circling some roadkill today like they were ritually resurrecting it. I bet they’re planning a remastered version of Alfred Hitchcock’s The Birds—but this time, they’ll have zombies on their side.
He snorted again.
Ethan
The humans will have you, though.
Forster
Not if these feathered dinosaurs take me out before the battle starts. Then you’ll be the only one who knows their plan, humanity’s lone hope.
Ethan
A New Hope?
Forster
Yes. The conflict will be called the Starling Wars.
His laughter propelled his chair away from his desk. His head smacked into the wall. But he grinned while he rubbed at the ache.
If he executed his role during the government visit perfectly, maybe Dr. Kramer would promote him to an office with windows, where he could monitor SVLAC’s own turkeys—or even just move him to a room that didn’t smell faintly of cleaning chemicals from its proximity to an adjoining janitorial closet.
But no promotion would materialize if he didn’t focus.
So he blotted the coffee from his jeans, wheeled himself a few inches back to his desk, and opened his inbox. At the top was his supervisor’s feedback about a white paper summarizing the Quantum group’s work.
