Total pages in book: 117
Estimated words: 113051 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 565(@200wpm)___ 452(@250wpm)___ 377(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113051 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 565(@200wpm)___ 452(@250wpm)___ 377(@300wpm)
“So I’m right, then. This isn’t the real lab.”
She looks around. “Oh, we do work here,” she says before her gaze returns to me, a sly look in her green eyes. “But you are right. This isn’t the main lab. They’re downstairs.”
“There’s a downstairs?” I ask, surprised. “There’s more than one?”
“Would you like to see?”
“Well, yeah.”
“Come, then,” she says as she walks to the other end of the room toward that other door. “But promise me you won’t tell anyone. I don’t want the other students to think you’re getting preferential treatment.”
“I swear,” I say, making the sign of the cross over my heart. I know my Catholic grandmother will be watching me closely to make sure I don’t break it.
She takes out her key card from her lanyard and passes it over the door. It unlocks with a click, and she pulls it open to reveal a dark staircase. She steps inside, and motion detector lights flick on.
I follow her down the narrow stairs, my pulse quickening with excitement. Finally, I’m going to see where the real magic happens.
At the bottom of the stairs are two doors across from each other. I’m trying to map it out in my head with the shape and size of the building above, and it seems both rooms must continue underground beyond the learning lab’s foundation. I have to wonder if there’s a tunnel system of sorts.
She swipes her card at the door on the right and steps in, flicking on the lights beside her. This lab is twice the size as the one upstairs, filled with the hum of machines, many of which I’ve never seen before.
“I thought the lab was running all the time,” I tell her, surprised that it’s empty.
“It is,” she says. “The technicians are in the testing lab at the moment, across the hall. I would take you in there, but they aren’t to be disturbed.”
“Technicians,” I say slowly. “Like Dr. Carvalho?”
“Yes.”
“Who are the other technicians?” I ask because I have yet to see anyone on the compound that I haven’t recognized. “Dr. Wu?”
“Part-time workers,” she says. “They spend most of their time in the lab and live in the west lodge. That’s probably why you haven’t seen them,” she adds, as if reading my mind.
“Ah,” I say, glancing around the lab again.
“Can you imagine yourself working here?” she asks idly.
Weeks ago, I would have said yes with no hesitation. Now, I have to think about it. “I guess it depends what I would be doing.”
“Whatever it is you want,” she says. “If you play your cards right, there might be a job for you in the end. Imagine how that would solve all your problems. You’d live here, be paid very well, and you’d be ushering in groundbreaking research. You would leave your mark on the world for generations to come.”
Yes. All this research we still don’t know much about, and by design.
“How close are you to finding a cure for Alzheimer’s?” I ask her.
Her brows rise. “Very close. We have practically found the cure. It just needs perfecting before we can open up the trials.”
“But I thought you were already doing clinical trials.”
“Closed clinical trials,” she says. “We have been testing on animals.”
I make a face. “But Kincaid said…”
Her posture stiffens. “Wes said what?” she asks in a clipped voice.
“That he was originally your neurosurgeon.”
Her eyes narrow for a second before her expression relaxes. “He was. He still is, though Michael has taken over his role. Wes cares very much about saving people, whichever way he can do it.”
Ah, so Michael happens to be a neurosurgeon as well. I would not let that man anywhere near my brain.
“So the studies have only been done on animals?”
“Not quite,” she says.
Her secrecy is starting to grate on me.
“You know, the reason I wanted to study here was because of what your interviews and press releases had promised. Alzheimer’s is dear to my heart—that’s the whole reason I’m here. My grandmother died from it.”
“I know.” She nods, her eyes soft. “Sometimes I forget you…”
She trails off.
“Forget I what?”
“Forget that you’ve been through so much.” She sighs, shaking her head in sympathy. “Too much. It’s too much for one person, Syd.”
Her attention is making me uneasy. “I turned out fine,” I joke.
She doesn’t laugh though. Her eyes narrow as she stares at me. “I wouldn’t say that.”
I bristle, feeling the sting.
“I turned out okay,” I clarify.
Her lips purse as she considers that, her demeanor changing. “Yeah. You turned out okay. Considering, you know. Everything. You could be better though.” She reaches out with her fawn-colored gel nails and brushes a strand of hair off my face. “Maybe you just need more time. Need to grow older. Need to learn. I forget that you’re still just a grad student.”
Just a grad student?