Alkaline

Prologue

The road to become a Biomedical Scientist is a long one.

It's hard, busy, and awfully stressful. When they think about everything they need to give up—the sleepless nights, the endless studying, the complete lack of a social life—most people end up choosing a different path. There are other options, after all. Ones that don't require becoming a hermit to achieve. Ones that let you have a somewhat normal life and still be successful.

Did I consider any of these so-called easier options?

Yeah, no. Of course not. I was too fucking stubborn to give up my dream.

I've known I wanted to be a scientist ever since I was fourteen and had my first real biology class. My mom and my sister thought it was just a phase at first, but I only grew to love it more and more. The science behind the evolution of a species fascinated me—it was almost like magic. And I desperately wanted to master that magic.

So, naturally, as soon as I finished school at seventeen, I enrolled in the Biomedicine program at MIT—yeah, I was that brainy. My family, full of artists and dreamers, thought I was crazy for choosing the hard sciences, but I was determined. And I still am. Up to this day, I love the field I've chosen, no matter how brutal it can be.

Because it's brutal. I knew I'd have to sacrifice a lot—my social life, carefree weekends, the whole "college experience". And I was okay with that. Honestly, I've never been the most social of beings anyway.

It's funny, really—I'm the black sheep of my family, not for rebelling, but for being the nerd who chose academia over creativity. But I'm the kind of black sheep they admire, at least. Mom and Pearl, my sister, think I'm a genius for studying as much as I do. They're wrong, though—I'm not a genius. I'm just crazy enough to push myself through endless burnout and breakdowns to reach my goals.

Eleven-plus years. That's how long it takes to finally call yourself a Biomedical Doctor. Four years for an undergraduate degree, two more for a master's, and at least five for a PhD. I'm in the middle of that road. I've earned my master's, and I'm applying for my PhD now. I gave the GPA and the GRE scores, but I still need more field experience.

So, when I heard about the internship program at the American Institute of Research (AIR), it felt natural to apply. The selection process was brutal—practical and theoretical tests, countless interviews. Out of almost 200 candidates for each spot, I managed to secure one of the three. I was in.

I thought the hardest part was behind me. Out of hundreds of applicants, I got in. How could it get more difficult than that? All I had to do was survive in the extreme cold and put my years of study into practice.

Easy peasy.

Or so I thought.