Mich Me Michael

Part 1: Him

The laboratory, hidden under tons of earth and rock, with thick metal walls as impenetrable as the shelters, was a not-so-secret sanctuary. The flickering lights illuminated a world of shadows and silhouettes, while the machines' hums echoed, filling the silence left by the scientists who were no longer there. Tubes, pipes, and cables ran throughout the lab, connecting old instruments to cathode ray screens that flickered in a language of codes and numbers.

Michael leaned over a workbench covered in papers and formulas, illuminated by the faint glow of a monochrome screen. His hands, skilled and steady, moved with surgical precision as he mixed substances in glass flasks. Serious, meticulous, and humorless, it was easy to confuse his patience with tolerance. It depended on what it was for: his studies and experiments had his full attention and time. His assistants, not so much.

This was precisely the fate of Karl, the last scientific assistant, with a wealth of degrees, postgraduates, and specialties. Frustrated, in the decontamination chamber, with his exterior suit ready, he put on the air mask and covered his entire face. And he ascended, with remnants of dignity, in the elevator to the surface.

Michael was brilliant, but Karl hated him. He was so brilliant that no one was on his level, and he did an excellent job of constantly highlighting how useless Karl was. He was no longer his idol; now, he was his worst enemy. His request for a transfer to the Alpha laboratory had been rejected several times, but he preferred to be unemployed in the shelters than endure one more minute with that man.

The elevator doors opened, and Karl stood firm and still, sure that his manhood remained intact, that his decision was correct. Sophie was on the other side of the door, panting.

—Oh no —she said, resigned. She hadn't arrived in time. Karl had quit—. Don't go, honey, Michael is a bit harsh, but... 

—I can't take it anymore, Sophie, I can't take it anymore —Karl burst into tears, filling his mask with viscous fluids. He no longer cared about dignity or hope; he was so fed up that he had nothing left.

After calming him and giving him a clean suit to go outside, she bid him farewell. She entered the decontamination chamber, first passing all the objects through a square glass window. The machines on the other side would take care of the rest. She left the mask and clothes in her cubicle. She didn't need to wear a suit or a mask, but to maintain the safety of the people in the lab, she had to decontaminate in the showers. And by people, we mean only Michael and Mrs. Birgit, who was in charge of cleaning. No one else remained in that huge place, not now that Karl had left. Although many had resigned or lost hope, the population was so small that they couldn't fill the vacancies. In three years, the bustle of scientists arguing had turned into a somber silence. She turned off the water faucet; it was always at the perfect temperature. She put on her lab coat with pins, mismatched socks, and, after tying her hair into perfect buns, went to the kitchen and poured some chips onto a small plate. Yes, they were expired, but anything was better than the synthetic food from the shelters. A stomachache was acceptable for such a treat.

With chips in hand, she danced into the main lab. The smell of chemicals and the tension in the air from Karl and Michael's argument could still be felt. Sophie looked at Michael for a few seconds. He was ruthless, but she found him so attractive. His stature was imposing, with broad shoulders and an -adorable- hunch. His dark, disheveled hair with silver streaks fell over his greasy forehead. His skin, weathered by artificial light, was so pale and bluish that it only highlighted the darkness of his bags under his eyes. And his anxiety.

To Sophie, Michael was a heartthrob. To the rest of society, maybe not. But who are we to judge someone's tastes? Perhaps the only one who could judge was Mrs. Birgit, but she spoke another language, so her expressions of disgust and grunts of annoyance could actually mean something else.

He saw her; it was impossible not to see or hear her, but he ignored her. The hum of old machines, the constant dripping of fluids through the cooling pipes, and the whispering of the computers were all he needed to work in peace.

—I brought chips —she said, proudly.

Michael smiled and opened his mouth without looking at her. Sophie fed him a piece, and he ate it. She was just a test subject, a strange and unique being, immune to the spores that had destroyed everything. She had come to his lab to be studied, but now she was the only person he appreciated having around.

—Do you want to talk about Karl? 

—Sophie asked. 

—No. 

—Of course, I also love talking with you; your words are so inspiring. 

—Yes. 

—And... did you finish the latest blood test results? 

—Uh-huh. 

—And what are the results? 

—I would know precisely if that idiot hadn't mixed up the reports. Weeks of study, months, totally wasted. 

—Of course, yes, how useless. Staying up for days shouldn't affect his work —she said sarcastically. 

—Of course not —said Michael, while eating the pieces Sophie fed him. His hands never stopped moving precisely.

Sophie looked at him thoughtfully. She wouldn't see Karl again. She was glad she had given him a bag of chips as a farewell gift. She sighed.

—You know, it's not other people's fault they aren't as perfect and beautiful as you, Michael. 

—That doesn't minimize their incompetence, he said, calmly. 

—And maybe the only ideal person to be your assistant would be yourself! 

—she said, playing resignedly.

—... —Michael remained motionless for a moment—. Sophie, that's it! 

—Oh, what? Did I find the cure? 

—No, but maybe another Michael would!

—What do you mean?