TOBIAS:
"I've been running this formula through the computer's diagnostics for over an hour now. I think processing it a thousand times without error is proof enough that it will work," I say to Caleb. "You need to make it come to life."
"Okay. Print out a copy of the formula for me and we'll take it down to the chemicals department," he responds. I do as I'm told, and follow him to the room where he will make our paper serum into a liquid one.
"It shouldn't be that difficult to just hack into the serum database and adjust the old memory serum formula to match our new one," Caleb says, once we reach the lab.
He sits down at the computer and begins typing in codes that will eventually translate into orders that are sent to the machine that will create our serum. I watch him closely. I still don't trust him and I can't risk him messing up our plan.
xxx
I admire the five vials of short term memory serum that I hold in my hands. "Do you think we should test it on one of ourselves first?" I ask.
He stares expressionless at me.
"It should only last about an hour, right? There's nothing to be worried about."
"You want me to try it on myself so you know I'm not lying to you, right?" he says.
There's no fooling this kid. "Yeah, kind of," I say, nodding.
He shifts on his heels, thinking. Always thinking. "Okay, but if it doesn't wear off in an hour like we hoped. . ."
"Listen," I stop him, "we checked the formula for flaws over a thousand times. This is going to work," I try to encourage him. . . but I still don't like him.
He picks up a needle and I hand him a vial of the colored liquid. I help him inject it into his neck, and only then do I believe he was telling me the truth. His expression goes blank, only to be reanimated with confusion.
"Hey, buddy," I say, as he becomes more aware.
"Is that my name? Buddy?" he asks.
I audibly laugh for the first time in months. "No, you're Caleb, but your serum works, are you happy?"
"Yeah, I think so," he says. He has no idea what I'm talking about. He stares blankly at me, which makes me feel uneasy. I have to look away. "Where are we?"
"We're in the laboratory that you work in," I say.
"Alright, well, I better get to it then," he says. Before I have a chance to ask what he's talking about, he pulls out a cell phone from his pocket. It's vibrating in his hand and the name David is lit up on the screen.
I grab the phone from him before he has the chance to answer the call and blow our plans. I panic.
"How do you answer it," I hiss, fumbling with the buttons.
"With facts and information," Caleb responds. Useless.
I touch the green circle on the screen and the call connects.
"Hello," I say in the best Caleb impression I can come up with.
"Mr. Prior, this is David from The Bureau calling. How are you?"
"I am well. And yourself?" I try to act calm, or rather, uptight and intellectual.
"Who is it?" Caleb prods. I wave him off.
"I am good. I was just calling to let you know that Beatrice has passed all of our tests and we have deemed her healthy enough to leave our facility tomorrow," David speaks through the phone.
"That's great. I'm looking forward to picking her up," I try to stay vague.
"Who are you picking up?" Caleb shouts from across the room. He's now fidgeting with laboratory equipment.
"Shhhh!" I place my finger over my mouth.
"Great. She will be prepped for twelve o'clock tomorrow afternoon. We are still expecting you to bring the memory serum for her injection, yes?" David asks.
"Absolutely. I'll be bringing a vial with me after I leave the lab," I try not to let my disgust translate over the phone.
"Oh, and one more thing, Mr. Prior."
"Yes?"
"We still need you to sign the waiver that grants The Bureau permission to use Beatrice's genetic materials in our research and published findings. We'll bring that with us to our meeting tomorrow."
Waiver? What waiver? What are they planning to do with her genes?
"Mr. Prior?" David repeats.
"Yes, sorry. That's fine. I'll bring a pen as well," I say through my teeth. I hear a crash from the other side of the room. Caleb. "I'm sorry, David, but I'm in the middle of something and my associate just dropped the beaker we've been trying to distill for the last hour. I need to go, but I'll see you tomorrow at noon."
"Yes, of course…" his voice trails off as I pull the phone from my ear and hang up on him. I run over to the broken glass on the floor.
"What are you doing?" I yell, my voice stern.
"It just fell!" he says, a guilty pout on his face.. "I'll clean it up. Where do they keep the broom in this place?"
xxx
We spend the rest of Caleb's amnesic hour cleaning up the broken glass while I try to convince him that his name is actually Caleb, and not Buddy. Thankfully, he regains his memory soon after and we finish what we came here to do. He places the new memory serum vials into the padded casing that he'll be bringing to David's lab tomorrow, and we leave.