“Have you gotten the samples I requested?”

“Here, and your welcome.” The pale faced lackie in yellow scrubs threw his cargo onto a dimmly lit table infront of him.
“You could have told me there would be more then one of them.” He stood less then patiently behind the good doctor, waiting to be acknowledged.

“Yes, I could have, now get out.”

The pair of yellowing scrubs left angrily as his boss kept a back to him. Pushing away the swinging doors he spat back a last minute insult,
“Dick.”

The room fell silent once more. Only a faint brushing as it’s doors slowly swayed back and forth before stopping sharply to a close. Black shadows, tinted with the fingers of mistery crept around the shoulders of the rooms only occupant. His hands worked steadily at the controls of a microscope infront of him. His eye clued to it’s glass. Sample after sample he tested, dripping each with liquid drops from a vile marked RNAcoding.

“Fucking worthless.” He’d say after each sample disolved.
“Fucking pointless.”

Dr. David Marcus was lossing hope. He, with each attempt began to see the useless effort of his task. How could he have ever thought that he was able to complete it.
But he had to. Somebody had to. No one else could. So it had to be him.

“Just hold on.” He told the air as he placed another sample,
“I’m almost there.”

Matthew Newton
DOC #81868