The Catalyst

Chapter 9: The Missing Piece

Chapter 9: The Missing Piece

FOUR YEARS LATER

        Squeak

        Squeak

        Squeak

        The white box rattled slightly as Dameon took it down from the shelf. He handled it gingerly, placing it on the table in front of Cyrus, who, wholly absorbed in the report he was reading on the Smart Vision, did not look up.

        "Can you shut that sound off?" He asked idly, holding up his hands, which were covered by kinetic gloves, and gesturing to switch to the next page. Dameon felt his lips stretch into an ironic smile.

        "I'm not sure. Actually, that's why you can hear it in the first place." Cyrus still didn't look up, but he frowned slightly.

        "What are you talking about? It's annoying - it sounds like a mouse."

        "It does." Dameon agreed, setting the box carefully down on the lab table, next to a white test tube rack that held a single vial of a crystal clear liquid. He took off the lid, and looked down at the small, gray rodent that sat in it, nibbling on a small block of cheese. It looked up at Dameon with small, inquisitive eyes, twitching its nose ever so slightly.

        "Hey there," Dameon murmured, running his finger down the mouse's back, "you ready to help me?" The moment the words left his lips, he saw Cyrus's back stiffen as he sat up suddenly, ramrod straight. With a wave of his hand the Smart Vision's screen shut off, and he whirled around, staring at Dameon with an icy expression.

        Four years had left Cyrus's face remarkably unchanged. His green eyes still glinted from deep within his face - which had leaned out slightly - and his skin had retained its olive tone. He had not exactly had a growth spurt either, remaining almost half a foot shorter than Dameon, though admittedly he had become fairly muscular, with the same stocky build.

        At the moment, his eyebrows were furrowed, his eyes smouldering, and his expression stony. Then he opened his mouth and spoke as if choosing his words carefully.

        "Dameon," he said slowly, "we agreed we were not going to test this on live subjects."

        "But how else are we going to know for sure if it really works?" Dameon argued. Cyrus closed his eyes briefly, and Dameon could see the despair written all over his face. They had been having the same argument for several months now, the same back and forth.

        "God curse the day I was assigned to Domenos," he muttered, "No, scratch that, curse the day I rashly signed up for the same dual-major as you - and we ended up in the same class. You'll never get it, eh? This is our semester project for junior year of university. Not something that's going to change the fate of the world. Testing on live subjects wasn't a requirement, so no, we do not have to risk animal's lives to test that stupid solution!"

        Dameon slowly replaced the lid of the box, and the tense muscles in Cyrus's face relaxed. He did not put the box away, though. Instead, he stared at the designs that covered the lid. Twisting, curving red spirals that meandered and got lost among each other.

        Cyrus had often jokingly called up to the higher powers, asking why, why did he, Gloria, and Dameon all get assigned to the same college two years ago? But they both knew that he was kidding, the sole, painfully obvious reason being that their AIJP scores were only seven points apart from each other.