The Man Who Looked Into Chaos

Jonas still had a few hours to comprehend the transformative impact of a small accident. He was seated on a red plastic bench, oddly comfortable. The white walls, the pungent odor of ether, the sounds of heart monitors, and the noise of shoes in the hallway created a disturbing scene. But it wasn't enough to shake the spirits of the carefree physicist and university professor who chatted enthusiastically.

— You see, nuclear fusion occurs when two light nuclei, like hydrogen isotopes, come together to form a heavier nucleus, like helium in the case of our sun. For this, we need extremely high temperatures. — Jonas explained, examining the small wound on his ankle.

— Correct. — his wife Suzana replied, distracted, looking around.

— And the Pinscher...

— What?

— Don't interrupt me, please, I'll lose my train of thought.

— Of course... — Suzana rolled her eyes.

— Let's imagine that feelings are also measurable particles. If we subjected all the particles of hate in the world to extremely high temperatures, initiating a fusion process of hate, what would be the result? — Jonas gesticulated, enthusiastic.

Suzana raised an eyebrow and slightly twisted her lip. After a few seconds, she gave in: — The Pinscher...

— Exactly! Nuclear fusion generates a lot of energy, and the fusion of hate generates the Pinscher. The zero, one, two classification that the species receives is inversely proportional to the amount of hate needed to generate this small mass of condensed hate.

— You're an idiot. — Suzana laughed, incredulous, while looking around again.

— Admit it, it was my refined sense of humor that won you over.

— Your childish sense of humor, you mean. Yes, I admire your lightness. — she caressed his face warmly, but soon pinched him. — But sometimes it irritates me. It's exhausting being the adult for both of us, you don't take anything seriously. Do you know if that dog was vaccinated? It's impossible that we haven't been called yet.

— Dr. Frohelich is meticulous. It would be strange if his dog weren't vaccinated. You didn't need to come, it wasn't serious.

— Nothing is serious to you, that's why I'm here. What's his research about?

— No one can say, and he doesn't answer directly when asked.

— Okay, but why did he bring the damn dog to the lab?

— It's a Dr. Frohelich thing. Actually, I think I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. He recently had a request for animal experiments denied. It was strange since his research, whatever it is, falls under theoretical physics. He uses our particle accelerator; it's not medical research. He would hardly receive authorization to use lab animals... maybe he used his own dog as a last resort.

— That's crazy, and you still tell me not to worry. How does he manage to keep this research a secret?

— I've heard it's private investment. A large donation to the institution and funding for research of interest to the donor. The right amount of money has the power to silence questions. Anyway, his research isn't medical, I don't believe there's a biological risk. I still think you shouldn't worry.

A nurse rushing by abruptly stopped when Suzana jumped up, blocking her path.

— Please, can you check why my husband hasn't been called yet?

The nurse looked at Jonas's wrist and quickly understood the situation: — Your husband's risk classification is green. We have some urgent cases ahead, it might take a while. I'm sorry, but you'll need to wait. — Before Suzana could argue, the nurse hurried away even faster than before.