Claire's heart was breaking into a million pieces. It hadn't worked. All her hard work, all *their* hard work, and she was going to lose him anyway. It wasn't fair.
It wasn't fair, it wasn't right, and she wouldn't *let* it be true, damn it!
A click from the phone at her ear drew her attention away. "Mark?"
"Claire, they said you needed to -- "
"Mark, there's something wrong with the test batch. I need to know what, and I need to know *now*!"
"Something wrong with it? But they checked it! It tested out pure!"
"Then they missed something. This is *so* important, I really need you to help me find out what -- "
This time Claire was cut off by sounds from the speakerphone, still active halfway across the room. Bobby's "Oh, crap...." had caught half her attention, but now there were sounds of a struggle coming from the speaker. She looked, in agony, from the ruined batch of counteragent, to the full batch still in progress, to the speakerphone and the door beyond it. Eberts was looking at her with the same agonized indecision.
Finally, she punched the disconnect on the speakerphone, hitting the speeddial for the Official's office.
"This is him."
"Get to the padded room, now!" Claire shouted, cutting him off again before he could tie her up with demands for explanations. "Keep going, Albert," she said, gesturing to his half-completed work on the next stage in synthesizing the full batch of counteragent. "We can't do Darien any good until we get a workable remedy."
Her hand had been covering the mouthpiece of the cell phone while she talked. She brought it back to her ears, only to be met with the annoying on-hold music Mark's company favored. She stared at the flask of red fluid, her mind racing.
....racing....the word bounced around in her head, trying to connect to something.....racing....racemer.....
"Isomers!" Claire exclaimed.
"Is that like Eureka?" Eberts asked hopefully.
The dreadful on-hold music cut off. "Claire? I got all the test data...."
"Mark, check to see whether they tested the handedness of the molecules produced."
She could hear him flipping pages. "Optical isomers? I can see how that might slip through the cracks...."
Eberts looked confused, mouth open, trying to figure out how to even ask what she was talking about. "Handedness?"
"Like a right and left hand, Eberts! They look almost exactly the same, mirror images of each other, but only one of them can fit into a right-handed glove!"
"And how does this help us?"
"Well, if this is what I think it is," she said, tapping the vial of purple fluid, "then half of it is perfectly good counteragent."
"And the other half?"
"That's what we're trying to -- Yes, Mark?"
Claire and her chemist friend descended into a spate of jargon so thick Eberts knew it would take him weeks to understand any sort of attempt at an explanation. He wished it wasn't happening on his cell phone; he would have liked to be able to call upstairs to find out what was happening.....
[Note: Due to fanfiction.net's recent decision to begin censoring fanfics posted here, instead of the previous sensible practice of labeling adult material as such and letting the reader decide what to read, this will be the last part of "Supply Problem" posted here. Future installments may be found at http://groups.yahoo.com/group/IMfanfic/ and possibly other sites if other options become available. To paraphrase the supreme court, I don't believe the Internet should be limited only to matters fit for young children, rather it should be as diverse as human thought. If ffnet management comes to their senses I'll go back to posting here. -CK]
It wasn't fair, it wasn't right, and she wouldn't *let* it be true, damn it!
A click from the phone at her ear drew her attention away. "Mark?"
"Claire, they said you needed to -- "
"Mark, there's something wrong with the test batch. I need to know what, and I need to know *now*!"
"Something wrong with it? But they checked it! It tested out pure!"
"Then they missed something. This is *so* important, I really need you to help me find out what -- "
This time Claire was cut off by sounds from the speakerphone, still active halfway across the room. Bobby's "Oh, crap...." had caught half her attention, but now there were sounds of a struggle coming from the speaker. She looked, in agony, from the ruined batch of counteragent, to the full batch still in progress, to the speakerphone and the door beyond it. Eberts was looking at her with the same agonized indecision.
Finally, she punched the disconnect on the speakerphone, hitting the speeddial for the Official's office.
"This is him."
"Get to the padded room, now!" Claire shouted, cutting him off again before he could tie her up with demands for explanations. "Keep going, Albert," she said, gesturing to his half-completed work on the next stage in synthesizing the full batch of counteragent. "We can't do Darien any good until we get a workable remedy."
Her hand had been covering the mouthpiece of the cell phone while she talked. She brought it back to her ears, only to be met with the annoying on-hold music Mark's company favored. She stared at the flask of red fluid, her mind racing.
....racing....the word bounced around in her head, trying to connect to something.....racing....racemer.....
"Isomers!" Claire exclaimed.
"Is that like Eureka?" Eberts asked hopefully.
The dreadful on-hold music cut off. "Claire? I got all the test data...."
"Mark, check to see whether they tested the handedness of the molecules produced."
She could hear him flipping pages. "Optical isomers? I can see how that might slip through the cracks...."
Eberts looked confused, mouth open, trying to figure out how to even ask what she was talking about. "Handedness?"
"Like a right and left hand, Eberts! They look almost exactly the same, mirror images of each other, but only one of them can fit into a right-handed glove!"
"And how does this help us?"
"Well, if this is what I think it is," she said, tapping the vial of purple fluid, "then half of it is perfectly good counteragent."
"And the other half?"
"That's what we're trying to -- Yes, Mark?"
Claire and her chemist friend descended into a spate of jargon so thick Eberts knew it would take him weeks to understand any sort of attempt at an explanation. He wished it wasn't happening on his cell phone; he would have liked to be able to call upstairs to find out what was happening.....
[Note: Due to fanfiction.net's recent decision to begin censoring fanfics posted here, instead of the previous sensible practice of labeling adult material as such and letting the reader decide what to read, this will be the last part of "Supply Problem" posted here. Future installments may be found at http://groups.yahoo.com/group/IMfanfic/ and possibly other sites if other options become available. To paraphrase the supreme court, I don't believe the Internet should be limited only to matters fit for young children, rather it should be as diverse as human thought. If ffnet management comes to their senses I'll go back to posting here. -CK]