Of Lorenz Theory & Love

Sordid Science in the She-Shed

22 Sordid Science in the She-Shed

4:30 pm, Vera Manor Garden, She-Shed, Seattle, Washington

Having pored through a myriad of online research in the past hour, Macy hadn't yet found any binding legislative authority specifically stating it was illegal to have a genetics laboratory business in one's own backyard.

She knew she had no intention of turning it into a meth lab, she wasn't going to operate a drug ring, and the whole enterprise was to add something to her resume for when she applied to postdoctoral positions later on, after Vera Manor grew a bit more settled in its locale. Plus, it would give Macy and her sisters more money; it was challenging for the three sisters to subsist on Maggie's salary alone.

Macy's state-of-the-art genetic analysis machine was stashed in the corner of the desk she was currently working off of. Her sturdy chair held her lithe form, with a few pillows, and a fluffy white rug lay under her bare feet. The dark-tinted and possibly rusted-over shed windows hid the light emanating from her laptop. Outside the she-shed, in silver ink, was scrawled "99 good things just one bad."

4:35 pm, Vera Manor Garden, She-Shed, Seattle, Washington

Ping. Macy checked her email. A new client. Her spell-work at encryption and her IT certification years ago had finally paid off, and she was finally pilot testing her new enterprise. Macy read through the request, (Anonymous it stated, under the requesting party) which was for the testing of an exotic Deinosuchus crocodile genome. This would hardly be unusual, except for the fact this species had long since died out centuries ago, and the specimen had been uncovered near Loch Ness Lake in Scotland. Macy switched the machine on and began her work.

The sample itself would be arriving by automated magical mail into the delivery slot to her left, which resembled a library book drop-off container. Plunk.

Macy beamed. She donned her gloves, pipetting the crocodile's substance into a sample tube, and initiated the analysis. Macy considered herself lucky to have obtained this duplicate machine; she recalled her early years in the university laboratory, using 100 pipettes to withdraw delicate samples for plating onto a gel surface, which in turn was connected to various hooked-up electrode devices. The process back then took several painstaking hours and involved reading the samples in a photographer's darkroom. In contract, crocky here would only take an hour, at most.

5 pm, Vera Manor, Seattle, Washington

As the machine continued to run, Macy decided to pop by the Vera Manor kitchen to brew herself a much-needed cup of coffee. She found Maggie and Mel there, having a quick dinner before heading back out to SafeSpace Seattle (Maggie to her job, and Mel to watch over Kat's store, Spellbound). She said a quick hey to them, before turning her back to face the coffee machine. Extra strong, with a splash of almond milk and perhaps a dash of cinnamon. Macy's drink was thus made, and she blew on its steaming surface to avoid burning her tongue. Mmmm...she could feel the energy jolt of caffeine permeating her veins.

Just then, both Maggie and Mel turned in her general direction, eyeing her a little too cheerfully. "So Macy. How was last night?"

"Busy," replied Macy nonchalantly. "Y'know, I've decided to start an in-home genetics research business; it's really quite fascinating the stuff clients will send you—I got a huge crocodile specimen to review—" Macy took a slow sip of her coffee, before turning around to face Maggie and Mel, anticipation written plain into their excited faces. "What?!" asked Macy. "I actually was really busy..." her words trailed off.

"Yeah, right," Maggie said, rolling her eyes. "I'm sure that wasn't the only huge thing you were busy reviewing," as Mel laughed aloud. Macy choked on her coffee, as her cheeks turned a deep shade of magenta.

"In my room," Macy emphasized. "I was busy researching crocodile genomes. In. My. Room."

"Denial really doesn't suit you," Mel remarked offhandedly, tearing off the remnants of her pita bread, which she dipped in a strange combination of hummus, queso, and baba Ghanoush. "If you were in a Murakami Love Ho, by all means just say so. We don't—" and she beckoned to Maggie, "—judge. Not at all." Maggie shook her head, emphasizing Mel's words.

"Did you just call me a "ho??"" asked Macy incredulously.

"Noooooo...'course not," interjected Maggie. "Mel here just finished reading After Dark by Haruki Murakami, about workaholics that need to go to a Love Hotel ("Love Ho") to get any action with their lover, because they live with their fam and the walls are thin. Isn't that right, Mel?"

"Love Ho," uttered Mel again. "Macy, stop trying to hide. We know everything. There's no shame in going away to a Love Ho—"

"-tel." Mel caught a glimpse of Harry's figure entering the kitchen.

"Hello girls—were you talking about—?" he looked at them quizzically.

"Hotels." Maggie cut in quickly. "I'm, uh....making reservations for...hotels! For an upcoming conference at SafeSpace. I'm presenting a pitch to the board of directors flying in next month."

"Kudos, millennial Maggie!" Harry said by way of praise, impressed that Maggie had worked her way up to such a fascinating career path.

"And I—" Mel chimed in, "will continue researching the merging spell I mentioned last week, to figure out this whole Jimmy/Harry thing." Harry nodded.

Macy, meanwhile, had snuck back out to the she-shed.