Prime Slime
Chapter 12: Franken-Slime

Evan awoke on an ER cot, after the most restless sleep of his life. Rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, he checked in with hospital security and the medical residents. Things appeared to be under control. In the emerging daylight, the unshaven, hungry doctor headed straight for the lab, dragging an empty spray bottle behind him by the straps.

On the way, he passed by the football field and Dexter, who from a distance gave the sign that all was OK. Evan was more concerned about the lab at that moment.

Terri had spent the night there in her MIFF-spattered clothes, resting awkwardly in Evan’s chair. Her sleep was disturbed further by the fetor of MIFF, which left her head pounding. She sprayed in and around the flare-ups several times during the night, and periodically checked outside the lab for luminescence. By morning, the bushes outside were streaked in yellow, like some Halloween trick. Terri nearly emptied her canister of MIFF and was primed to make a new batch when Evan walked in.

“Give it a break, Terri! Let’s look instead at that Petri dish.”

“It should be ready,” she replied. They lumbered toward the incubator in full gear, with gloves, gowns, masks and MIFF tanks. Upon opening the incubator door, they were taken aback. The Petri dish slid out in slime like a canoe down a waterfall, and shattered on the floor. Terri took aim, but Evan stopped her.

“Don’t kill it! There’s so much we don’t know! Let’s freeze some first.” She was tired and trigger-happy, so it took her a moment to register. It also went against her instincts to keep it alive. Capitulating, she scooped up some slime with a spatula and placed it in a sterile beaker on the bench.

“Prime Slime must be preserved,” Evan insisted, as Terri filled several sterile test tubes with slime. She wiped the tubes with a MIFF-soaked paper towel and placed them in a rack in the deep freeze. Meanwhile, Evan turned off the lights to monitor the luminescence. Their faces lit up from the reflected light in the incubator. Its walls were illuminated, and slime dripped from the shelves, like a scene from hell. They wiped up the excess slime and sprayed thoroughly, as the light faded. Terri sprayed the bench and floor as well, and wiped them with paper towels. Contaminated materials were thrown into the red disposal bag. Terri switched the lights off intermittently to follow her progress. She sprayed in and around the incubator repeatedly over the next several hours before running out of MIFF.

“Prime Slime will survive indefinitely in the freezer,” Evan said. “Meanwhile, we’ll engineer a device to keep it contained while we work with it.”

Evan was about to leave, when Terri stopped him. “Take a look at those roses before you go.”

On his desk were a dozen brilliant roses. Terri placed them in a beaker of water to keep them alive. Their beauty was arresting against the backdrop of Evan’s dismal, yellow-streaked office.

“Those roses were exposed to Prime Slime, but look at them.”

“What do you make of it?” Evan asked, stupefied.

“I’m not sure. Where did you get them?”

“Oh my God!” Evan cried, suddenly realizing that he left Nan hanging. He grabbed the phone on his desk to call her, not noticing how early it was.

“Hello,” came a gravelly voice on the speakerphone.

“Sorry to wake you, honey. You won’t believe what happened.”

“This had better be good,” she said, with a healthy measure of displeasure.

“We had a severe lab accident. A virulent mutant escaped the lab and spread all over campus. It was unbelievable!”

“What? You’re kidding, right? Did anyone get hurt?”

“It infects only plants, thank God. But, it got into the emergency room and created a mess. And, it destroyed an entire football field.”

“Wow! That’s insane. What’s the current status?”

“It’s under control, or so we believe, after spraying the bee-Jesus out of it. We’re still vigilant…but exhausted!”

“How could any pathogen spread that rapidly? It’s unheard of.”

“Sounds bizarre, doesn’t it? We genetically modified bacteria to increase their speed, and somehow they mingled with a plant pathogen to create a monster.”

“I warned you about GMO technology!” A silence followed. She continued: “So you’ve had a rough night. I was worried.”

“You would have worried more if I had called. Forgive me?”

“I left several messages on your answering machine. But, I’m sorry you had to go through all that. How can I help?”

“Tell me about that organic farm. Your roses are gorgeous.”

“My roses?” Nan inquired.

“I bought them from Terra, the organic farm in New Jersey you mentioned. Strangely, those roses came in contact with the slime and survived. All other plants were liquidated.”

“Hmm, it must have something to do with being organic. Good soil quality helps organic plants resist infection the same way healthy people resist disease.”

“Fascinating!” Evan responded. “How can we learn more?”

“Listen, there’s a conference this weekend on organics at that farm. Perhaps it would please you to escort me, and learn a thing or two about organic agriculture.” Evan looked up at Terri, who nodded wildly, anxious to accompany them.

“Count us in. Terri wants to go, too.”

“Terri?”

“Yes, my prize student.”

“Not the one WHO made that GMO monster?

“Heavens no! Terri is a naturalist like you.”

“Well, of course! Among the three of us, we’ll solve this mystery.”

“Sounds great! But hey, I’ve got to go. I’m still on alert.”

“Good luck! Call me this evening.”

“Bye, honey.” It was the first time in a long time that Evan used this term of endearment. It felt right. He hung up the phone and turned to Terri.

“So, what about this organic thing?”

“It makes sense biologically. Soil that’s alive and full of minerals produces stronger plants than depleted, dead soil. Organic plants also produce more antioxidants to ward off intruders. In contrast, synthetic fertilizers and pesticides kill off life in the soil.”

“Hmm, that’s why the football field disintegrated so quickly.” Evan noted. “It’s awash in synthetic chemicals.”

“The football field!” Evan shouted, as he ran to the exit. He ran down the main campus road to check in with Dexter, who had manned the disaster all night. He had erected a number of makeshift signs, warning people to keep their distance. But the smell alone was sufficient.

The scientists stood together on the sidelines as Prime Slime glistened in the hot sun. The track was laced with wiggly yellow lines from multiple MIFF applications. Dexter sprayed repeatedly during the night, to prevent its escape into the surrounding woods.

Since the forest was essentially organic, Evan wondered if it was also resistant to Prime Slime. Wisely, they were not about to risk replaceing out. Dexter even sprayed the grass outside the track to be sure. Due to drought conditions, this unattended grass was dead and discolored, unlike the manicured, verdant green football field.

The arid weather was actually working in their favor. Since slime is composed mostly of water, the lack of rain kept it from spreading. But the well-watered football field was fertile ground for plunder. Prime Slime baked like crème bruleé in the blaring sun. The yard markers were no longer visible, as the slime coalesced into one large mass, like cake rising in the oven. A hissing sound could be heard at the edges, where contact with MIFF occurred. Lack of sleep and the foul odor proved too much for Dexter. Exhausted and poisoned from the fumes, he buckled over with the dry heaves.

“You all right?” Evan inquired.

“Yeah, I’m O.K.” Dexter mumbled, choking.

“Take a break! Go get some food and rest. I need to get back to the ER, but I’ll be back shortly to check things out here.” As Evan went to leave, Dexter gave him something to think about:

“Hope it don’t rain, chief.”

The ER was cleaned up, but the smell still lingered. All patients had been taken elsewhere within the hospital. With Evan’s guidance, several custodians began applying MIFF for precautionary purposes. Small amounts of the yellow liquid were placed into a bucket of hot, soapy water, to wash all suspect surfaces throughout the hospital. They would wait until nightfall to disinfect anything glowing in the dark. Evan was taking no chances.

Needless to say, hospital administrators at Burrstone were quite perturbed. While in the ER, Dr. Lucian was summoned to the VP’s office, and made his way down the main hospital corridor to the Administration. Minnie Hardash greeted him at the door with a menacing stare.

“What kind of business are you running over there?” she said, as she leaned up close to Evan. Fortunately, she was several feet shorter, or he might have head-butted her. He was in no condition to deal with her vitriol, without coffee or breakfast, lack of sleep, and only a handful of brain cells firing. Evan took a deep breath and controlled his temper.

“Burrstone is a disaster area!” she squealed, as Evan backed away. This must be a nightmare, he thought.

Dr. Honcho stepped forward to steer the conversation. “Is it under control?” he asked sternly.

“Yes sir, in all areas. The football field is still under siege, but we have it contained. We’re waiting for it to run its course. The ER is in good hands, as is the lab. I believe we have snuffed it out in both areas. I will submit a detailed report on all three incidences.”

“What is the nature of this thing?” Honcho inquired.

“We were working with two unrelated bacteria, one incredibly fast and the other very slimy. Neither was particularly dangerous, or hard to contain. Unfortunately the red contamination bags were not picked up for days.” Evan glared defiantly at Hardash. “So, the two creatures mingled and festered in the unattended bag. Apparently they exchanged genes, and a ravenous plant killer emerged from the pile, totally unexpected.”

“So now the ER is part of your lab,” said Hardash derisively.

“No, but apparently my lab is not worth providing services for. The waste was piled high and sat for days!”

“Patients are our highest priority.” she scoffed. “And they should be yours too.”

“I don’t see patients, as you know. My job is to outsmart germs, but sometimes they outsmart us. Bacteria are very clever creatures.” Evan held his poise.

“All I know is, this monster must be destroyed immediately!” Hardash demanded. Honcho nodded in agreement.

Evan begged to differ. “Let’s be calm. It is our duty to study this slime. Something like this could happen again, and we need to be prepared. We’ll never know why if we destroy it.”

“You’ve already shown us you can’t control the damned thing!” Hardash balked. Honcho concurred again with a nod.

“There are important questions to address,” Evan insisted, “such as, why some plants are immune to this disease.”

“Who gives a rat’s ass?” Hardash gestured.

“To improve MIFF, we need to keep Prime Slime alive.”

“Prime Slime?” asked Honcho.

“That’s what my students call it. We may have the only drug able to stop it. Our patented compounds could make us a fortune. That should please the hospital Board.”

The cash register in Hardash’s head went ‘Cha Ching!’, as she mulled over Evan’s words. Then the grimace returned.

“You own nothing, Lucian. MIFF is the sole property of Burrstone. The Board will meet this afternoon to determine your fate. Any revenue you receive from this invention will be used to pay for damages. In the meantime, stop terrorizing our patients!”

Evan was now fuming. “I gave my life for this invention…”

Dr. Honcho interrupted. “This is more than just about you, Lucian. The reputation of this hospital is at stake. We’ve got to keep up appearances.”

“In other words, we’ve been painting you as a hero rather than the idiot you really are,” Hardash added. “So, no more screw-ups!”

Evan took another deep breath.

“After the Board meets, we’ll debrief you on what to say to the media,” Honcho instructed. “Until then, keep a low profile.”

“One last thing, sir” Evan offered. “We should inspect the campus grounds tonight…by air.”

“What? Are you insane?” Hardash growled. “How much money have we lost on you already? And for what?”

“Prime Slime lights up in the dark. We engineered it that way to follow it in the lab. It can be located by helicopter and sprayed, if necessary.”

No one could argue against the science. Things could get much worse if they were not vigilant.

“Do what you need to do. Just don’t let it escape again.”

“And the helicopter?” Evan asked.

“I’ll call Medivac, pending Board approval. We’ll rendezvous at nine pm sharp.”

“Thanks, Chief. Now pardon me, as I am needed elsewhere.”

Dr. Honcho nodded, leaving Minnie seething with anger.

Evan quickly made his way back to the football field. On the way, he ran across the newspaper reporter. Evan tried to hurry past, but the little guy was insistent.

“Can you tell us what’s going on here? The townspeople have a right to know.”

Evan collected himself. “There was a lab accident, but we prevented it from causing problems. That’s our job, to protect the public from harm.”

“Then how come we’re all freaked out?”

“Things are now under control.”

“What’s up with that?” the reporter asked, pointing to the football field. Players and coaches reporting for morning practice stood dazed, as the field disintegrated before their eyes. “It will be a while before they play anything there again.”

“The field will be blocked off and placed on 24-hour surveillance until it’s snuffed out,” Evan assured him. Spraying continued around the field perimeter over the next week. The infestation finally expired, but not before consuming every morsel of turf down to the roots. The area was quarantined indefinitely, and a new playing field erected elsewhere on campus. Scientists continued studying the destroyed field, to better grasp this unusual disease.

Back at the lab, Terri and Dexter were in damage control. They had prepared enough MIFF for the evening’s mission, causing another wave of stink to grip the community. One thing was clear: they would have to improve the MIFF formulation, and soon. It needed adjusting to improve potency, shelf life and odor. They needed a better, safer, purer product.

Ironically, the horrible smell distracted from the real danger. Few could fathom the destructive potential of Prime Slime. Evan was reluctant to reveal much, and he instructed his students to do the same, but he knew the danger involved. He also knew his career was at stake, as was the hospital’s reputation. Burrstone was also legally responsible. One mistake could discredit a lifetime of work and bankrupt a thriving institution. So, it behooved Evan and university officials to downplay the matter.

By controlling information fed to the media, the hospital helped shape popular belief. The disease was harmless to humans and easily destroyed, which was in their favor. Furthermore, they praised their scientists and denied any molecular foul play.

Dr. Honcho was interviewed on the local news, advising everyone to stay calm. He labeled it a freak accident that was well contained, and credited Burrstone scientists with creating the antidote before the disease had even broken out. He even joked about the smell.

But those who saw the light show would not soon forget. The sights, sounds and smells were etched in their minds forever. For a long while it was the main topic of conversation on campus. Nevertheless, the hospital’s political maneuvering held sway. The newspapers flaunted Evan’s foresight, not his negligence. He emerged as a hero, but a reluctant one at that. This was not his idea of fame.

Evan made his way back to the lab that evening filled with anger. Why should he suffer for others’ mistakes? Certainly he didn’t deserve Hardash’s indignation. This, after an honorable career? Resentment mounted as he retraced the trail of carelessness leading to the disaster. No matter how you cut it, allowing kids to play in an infectious disease lab without supervision was foolish and dangerous. When all was said and done, the buck stopped at his door.

Such crises require patience and diplomacy, things that Evan sorely lacked. He hailed from a long line of impatient, impetuous people. But, unlike his caveman predecessors, he held a position of great responsibility, and had to guard his anger. It wasn’t easy or pretty sometimes. But he was older now, on the downside of the testosterone curve, and was learning the arts of compassion, forgiveness, and relaxation. At mid-age, he was being schooled in anger management, and growing his feminine side. But, like Prime Slime, the monster inside would not prove easy to tame.

Things were a lot worse a decade earlier, as an unhappily married man in Queens. Full of spit and vinegar, he lived life by the seat of his pants. Without careful consideration, he chose a partner for all the wrong reasons, and paid for it dearly. On top of that was the commute from hell to and from work. New York traffic was merciless, and Evan’s road rage surfaced often. A bad day on the road, after arguing with the wife, was a prelude to disaster. By the time he got to work, Evan was frazzled. Then, replaceing a parking space was another slap in the face. With mounting frustrations, Evan’s life was unraveling before his eyes.

Add to that all the difficulties at work. He was a doctor, but MDs made the big bucks, and were royalty at medical institutions. So, Evan got little respect from physicians and Administration. They tried to minimize his stake in the invention, and would not even refer to him as a doctor. It was exasperating.

Meanwhile Dr. Wally burdened Evan with meaningless work, assigning rinky-dink projects and experiments that were a waste of time and money, and interfered with more important work on slime. Nevertheless, the Chief gave him carte blanche most of the time, so Evan couldn’t complain. Just another frustration that added to the chronic stress.

It got even uglier. Through his affiliation with the physicians in his Division, Evan got to witness the corruption in medicine fueled by Big Pharma: the daily solicitations and perks from drug reps, the liberal gift-giving and grant funding, all for prescribing their drugs. The lack of ethics made Evan angrier, if that were possible.

It was no accident that, on Halloween, Evan dressed up as the Frankenstein monster. The pitiful creature was a symbol for low frustration tolerance. Unable to cope emotionally due to a damaged brain, it got flustered at the slightest provocation. Evan could totally relate.

A picture of Karloff’s Frankenstein was tacked to Evan’s bedroom wall. It was a reminder of the danger that lurked within, his angry inner child. As much as anything, it helped Evan confront his demons, laugh at himself, and exorcise the curse of his fathers.

After years of married hell in Queens, Evan left his wife and moved closer to work. He stripped his life down to survival mode, renting a bare-bones basement apartment, while paying both alimony and child support. The wretched past owned his paycheck and his soul. A moldy, one-room, basement apartment would have to do, while he paid for his mistakes.

Years later, Evan was still living small, despite the emotional and professional gains. His horizons were expanding, however, as he grew tired of discomfort and isolation. Now re-energized and financially sound, it was time to come out of his shell and reconnect. Evan’s recent career gains and new students were also reinforcing. Plus, the prospect of cashing in on his invention was real and imminent. More importantly, MIFF had the potential to prevent most bacterial infections, which could conceivably elevate Dr. Lucian’s impact to the level of Salk, Pasteur or Fleming. On top of all this, the woman of his dreams showed up. He was ready to take on life’s trappings once again.

Evan figured that, living just a mile from work would reduce some of the stress. But, as it turned out, he was still easily irked by slow drivers along the way. His aggressive driving suggested lingering anger-management problems. It was this reckoning, on his short commute, that brought a new level of awareness to his life. Staying patient for one stinking mile could help shape the rest of his day. It became a religious practice. With the tools of positive affirmation, relaxation, and mindfulness, he managed most days. Yoga and deep breathing were especially helpful. The practice of compassion was also a key factor, and good nutrition provided the vitality he needed to buffer the slings and arrows. Slowly Evan left the beast behind, one mile marker at a time. Thanks to Nan, he was replaceing inner peace. She also convinced him to walk to work, for the exercise, and to avoid the frustration all together.

Evan was sent a wake-up call. It was time to turn it up a notch or two. Having attracted the likes of Nan, Terri and Dexter said something about how far he had come. They appeared at the right time, because the task ahead was too big for just one person. His students were there to help him solve the mysteries of MIFF, while Nan took him to another level of integrity and intimacy. Such women do not show up until a man is ready and worthy. In turn, she opened up a new world to him. There was much to learn from the feminine psyche. Mindfulness is the wisdom of women, and the cure for Frankenstein’s curse.