The Scientist's Experiment: Chapter Ten

Dr. Howell was pacing back and forth in front of the double doors to his lab. Though not being the best use of his time, he couldn’t stop himself. He gnawed at his thumbnail, the only one remaining as the rest had already been chewed to the quick. Zeke was nauseated from pure anxiety, he hadn’t slept a wink the night prior, and the unsettling illustration of Da Vinci’s unborn fetus had begun to haunt him. A once harmless, now turned ominous image that wouldn’t let him alone. He forced himself to stop walking, and sat down beside the doorway. Knees pulled to his chin, he rocked slowly, rubbing his arms, tapping his foot, anything to ease his strained nerves.
‘Good God! How long does it take to analyze a sample?!’ He thought. Zeke didn’t dare check on Frieda’s progress, for fear of breaking her concentration.
After having handed over a more than sufficient urine sample, Ezekiel left Frieda to do the examination herself. He had lied to his assistant, saying he wanted her to stretch her abilities, when in reality he was far too nervous to check the sample himself. The presence of certain crystalline structures in his urine, or lack thereof, would determine whether or not the fertilized ovum had attached. Howell himself admitted the test wasn’t perfect, as he was simply going off what other doctors had suggested in medical journals. Still, he didn’t know what else to do, and the idea of waiting around for symptoms to pop up, which could have easily been another month or so, sounded like torture.
Pressing his head back against the wall, he dragged his watch by its chain out of his breast pocket. He checked the time, which was only about two or three minutes since the last time he looked. Time was moving at a snail’s pace, taunting Zeke’s nervous disposition. He sighed with frustration, replacing the watch.
‘Damn Asterson’s concentration.’ He thought, jumping to his feet.
His hand grabbed the door knob, ready to throw it open, but stopped short upon hearing the sound of a chair scraping against the floor. Dr. Howell paled as footsteps were heard, and steadily backed away from the double doors. He gripped the sides of his pant legs in shaking fists, terrified of hearing the news that would soon follow. The door opened and Frieda slipped outside, closing off the lab behind her. She stared at her employer, examining his trembling form and pallid skin.
“Tell me…j-just tell me.” Zeke said, his uneasy stammer returning.
Frieda bit her lower lip, rubbing her gloved fingers. She fingered her glasses and cleared her throat.  
“I’m not exactly sure how to say this…” She started.
He felt himself go cold, as though the blood were draining from his body.  
‘Oh God. I’ve failed…I’ve failed again…’ He thought.
A lump formed in the doctor’s throat. His body stiffened further, then relaxed in a fatigued and depressed manner. He gently massaged his sunken face, trying to remain composed. In all truth, however, he was devastated. It would take even more time to retrieve another ovum, fertilize it, and re-implant it all over again. Emily’s ovaries wouldn’t keep forever, and trying it again already seemed impossible, if not simply highly unlikely. He turned, slouching pitifully, and began dragging himself towards the library. A good sulking on the couch would serve him well. Possibly a stiff drink.
“Well…I suppose a ‘congratulations’ is in order.” Frieda said.
Zeke froze, cocking his head in abrupt confusion. His heart felt as though it’d stopped completely, and he slowly turned to face his assistant. She bit her knuckle, trying to suppress a small smile. Frieda was still immensely unnerved at the whole idea, but tried not to show it.
“You…you mean…I…I’m…” Dr. Howell managed, his breathing shallow.
“You truly did it. I’m surprised, too, but here we are.” She shrugged.
Ezekiel was more than surprised. In fact, at that particular moment, he was experiencing every emotion in the book. From the peaks of elatedness to the depths of utter terror, but nothing showed on his person except shock. Pale, trembling, perspiring shock. He felt as though his heart were drying up and cracking into halves, his brain doing something similar. Frieda looked on, her smile fading, fearing she’d somehow managed to break her employer.
“Dr. Howell? Are you alright?” Frieda asked, carefully reaching out.
Zeke, however, hadn’t heard this. There was a sudden ringing in his ears and his head had begun to swim. The nausea was worse than ever, his stomach lurching towards his throat, and he was sheet white. Without warning, his legs went out from under him and he was thrown into darkness.
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Ezekiel blinked several times, his vision beginning to clear. He was in the library, lying on his couch, with Frieda sitting close by. That, and he had a pounding migraine. Little else about what had just occurred was certain.
“Here. I believe you’re severely dehydrated.” Frieda said, forcing a glass into his hand.
“Mm, what just happened?” He asked, before gulping the water down in one breath.
“You fainted, giving me quite a scare in the process. I barely managed to grab you before you hit the floor. Thank God you’re light. You’ve only been out three minutes.” She said, refilling his glass.
This wasn’t too much a shock to him. He’d been off his normal routine, consistently falling asleep at his workspace, sometimes right in the middle of a detailed task. It was only a matter of time before he would black out completely. Dr. Howell tried to remember fainting, but only recalled a light-headedness, and then not much afterwards. Taking a small sip of the water, he almost spit it right back out after instantly recalling their dialogue moments ago. A trembling smile made its way across his lips.
“Is it true? Did I really do it?” Zeke asked, allowing the anxiety to blow over. The thrill of a true success would do for now,  a feeling that had been buried for a long while, at last being resurrected.
“Yes, you passed out.”
“No, no! I meant, did I actually…conceive?” He asked, biting his thumb again.
Frieda nodded in the affirmative, causing the doctor to gasp from excitement.
“Astounding! Impossible! Well, more improbable. I mean, not that I’m shocked. Of course it would work. I planned it to. You helped, absolutely! Wait, what I mean is-” Zeke began to rant at high speed. Frieda cut him off with a palm across the mouth.
“Calm down. Take some deep breaths. I do not want another fainting spell.” She said, removing her hand.
“Sorry. Feeling a little animated today.” He said, trying to subdue an enormous grin.
“Understandable. Yet, it might be wise to take things a bit slower from this point forward.” His assistant suggested.
“Of course, of course. May I check the sample myself? I trust you wholeheartedly, but just to make sure…” He said.
“It’s your laboratory. Be my guest. Wait! Take it easy!” Frieda cried as he practically leapt from the sofa.        
Rushing back to his lab, Howell yanked over his wooden chair and slouched over the microscope. With bated breath and quivering hands, he adjusted the magnification for a clearer image. He heard Frieda enter the room, but paid her no attention.
“If I may inquire, what exactly happened a moment ago?” Frieda said, standing in the doorway.  
“I’m not altogether sure, myself. I believe it was some form of deep psychological damming of a sudden onset of emotions. I needed time to process the information, and my response was to shut down momentarily, if that makes sense. The same thing happened when I found out about my parents’ death, sans the syncope episode.” Zeke answered, still peering into the lens.
“Interesting…” Frieda commented, leaning by her arm against his chair.
The doctor adjusted the microscope again, clearing his view further. The inklings of a smile began to form on Dr. Howell’s face when he began seeing the crystalline structures that were supposedly the telltale sign. He let out an excited giggle upon making this discovery. Frieda watched his odd behavior. She’d never seen him so cheerful; it was almost unnerving. Zeke sat up against the back of the chair, pulling his knees to his chin. He folded his hands under his nose, letting the new information sink in. His breathing was shallow and excited, and  his jaw was beginning to hurt from such a broad smile.
“Was I right?” Frieda asked.
“Oh yes. Yes, yes, yes.” He sighed, in pure ecstasy.
Howell pushed the microscope aside and set the familiar, leather-bound journal in front of him. Under Frieda’s prior notes, he wrote that the insemination was a success, and that there had been no adverse side effects. Zeke knew this wouldn’t be the case throughout the entire forty weeks, but it was a comforting start. Grinning like an idiot, he spent another minute scribbling out other thoughts as they came to him. According to the time of the impregnation, the baby would be due in March, assuming all went well with the gestation. He also noted that there had been no real symptoms thus far, which he anticipated to see some in the coming months.
Finishing up the entry, the doctor closed the diary and set the pen aside. He elatedly got to his feet, but his smile dissipated upon the return of the severe dizziness. Gripping the side of the desk, he tried to stop swaying, and prayed the room would cease its wretched spinning. Frieda noticed the familiar body language, and hastily grabbed hold of his arm.
“Sit down. I’ll get you more water.” She instructed, forcing him back into the chair.
Zeke slouched against the back of the chair, trying very hard not to be sick. Frieda walked out of the room for a minute, seeming a little off kilter in Zeke’s eyes, as though she were walking on slanted ground. He blinked furiously, trying to even things out. It was of no use. The lack of sleep the night prior had really screwed with his head. Frieda came back into the room, carrying a heavy looking pitcher.
“There you are.” She said, pouring the doctor another glass.
“Maybe I should try eating something…” Zeke suggested, sipping lightly.
A wave of nausea rolled over him, and he instantly regretted the idea of eating. Frieda looked at her employer in a puzzled manner.
“Have you not had any sustenance today?” Frieda asked, scowling.
“Of course not. I’m not partial to having food in the morning.” He said plainly.
Furious, Frieda swatted him upside the head, causing him to startle in surprise.
“What was that for?!” He snapped.
“Moron! You have to eat!” She scolded.
“I almost never eat breakfast. I have never understood why it’s such an important repast. The foodstuffs that categorize the morning meal are quite unpalatable, in my opinion.” Zeke explained, shrugging.
“That might have been fine when it was just you, but you’ve got someone else to think about right now. And he, she, or whatever in God’s name it is, needs the nutrients! Did you even consider that?!” Frieda said, restraining the urge to strangle him.
Zeke’s face reddened as he buried his face in his hand. He honestly hadn’t. Wrapping an arm around his midriff, he started trying to think of food he could actually stomach. He’d gotten so excited and overwhelmed that he’d become incredibly queasy.
‘Toast doesn’t sound too bad…possibly a bagel.’ He considered, trying to keep it simple.
Frieda peeled back his hand, studying his face for a second with a critical expression.
“What now?” Zeke asked.
“How much did you sleep last night?” His assistant inquired.
Zeke averted his gaze, pretending to find the floorboards suddenly fascinating.
“How many hours?” She said, frowning concernedly.
Zeke bit his lip, unresponsive.
“Minutes, then?”
Again, Zeke cleared his throat uncomfortably, but said nothing.
Frieda sighed. For all the brilliance that was packed into this one man, he sure lacked common sense.
“Look,” she said, sitting herself atop his desk, “you’ve got to start taking better care of yourself. If you want to have an easy and healthy gestation, you might need to have a bit of a routine for a while.”
“Yes, change might be needed.” Ezekiel sighed, rubbing his face.
“Perhaps a set diet. Some form of schedule that details your meals for the day.” Frieda offered. She flipped open a small notepad and began writing this down.
“And an assigned time for dormancy.” Dr. Howell added, continuing to sip the water.
“That will be something you’ll have to ease into. Your past sleeping patterns haven’t been continuous, so it won’t come easy to your system.” Frieda said, continuing to scribble notes.
“Of course. And more research will be done in the coming months. Though I have a slight knowledge on the topic of obstetrics, further information might be needed.” Zeke said.
“Good, good.” Frieda said, her pen going furiously.
She waited for the doctor to add something else, but he said nothing. Frieda looked up to see him staring pensively in to space, fist pressed against the broad grin on his lips. His joy was contagious, and Frieda found herself smiling just looking at him. He was practically glowing.  
“Are you satisfied, then?” She asked, nudging his arm with her boot.
“For now, absolutely. I’ll want more proof in the weeks to come, but at this point, certainly.”
Dr. Howell sighed contentedly, leaning back comfortably in his chair. His hands were folded gently over the flat surface of his stomach. Though trying to remain in the happy mindset that everything was going as planned, he couldn’t help feeling a twinge of anxiety calling to him from the back of his mind. The mixture of the female chemicals was still incomplete, and this now worried him more than ever. It not being balanced, the lack of certain elements would surely have ill effects on the fetus. The thought made Zeke’s nausea return, and he was suddenly wishing he’d had more time to perfect the serum. Zeke forced himself to ignore his pestering conscience, and left the laboratory to fetch a piece of toast.