by S. E. Sasaki
“Yes,” he whispered, looking at her cautiously.
“ . . . Really?” Mallory said, failing to hide her skepticism.
‘BELIEVE IT!’ flashed up on the screen.
Mallory could not help but laugh.
“Can your rat write anything else?” Mallory asked Harold.
‘PROMETHEUS! MOST OF THE OXFORD DICTIONARY,’ appeared on the laptop.
“Oh, come on!” Mallory exclaimed. She snorted. “All right, Harold. You’ve had your fun. Now let’s get serious. You almost had me there for a moment but . . . the Oxford dictionary? Come on. What do you think I am? An idiot? . . .”
Mallory’s voice trailed off. Harold was pacing around the lab now, scowling at her.
“What do I have to do to make you believe me, Mal?” he finally demanded.
Mallory’s mouth dropped open. She blinked a few times and just stared at Harold. He was so convincing, and as long as she’d known him, he had always been such a terrible liar. But the alternative to him lying was . . . inconceivable. She could not bring herself to believe what he was claiming.
She shook her head. “No, Harold. Just stop.”
“Open your mind, Mal,” Harold hissed at her in frustration.
“No, Harold. This is not funny any more. I am really starting to get angry. Stop it!”
“This is purely a nightmare and I am going to wake up soon,” Mallory told herself.
“Ma-al,” Harold pleaded.
“Okay,” Mallory breathed. “I cannot believe I am saying this, and you will probably be making a fool out of me—laughing your head off—but . . . if you leave your lab, Harold, and Prometheus and I have an actual conversation without you present, then I might . . . possibly . . . begin to believe you. But if this turns out to be a practical joke, I swear, Harold Kaufmann I will never speak to you again! Do you understand?”
Harold stared at her, angrily. “You can’t just take my word for this, can you?”
“No, I cannot. I am a trained researcher, Harold. I am not about to take anybody’s word at face value, not even yours and especially not something as insane as this. You’ve just trained your cute little rat here to pound on the keyboard as a practical joke on me. Do not try to pass it off as anything else.
“If you are serious. If you want me to believe you. If this is really what you say it is, you will let me test this, because nobody else will believe you unless you let them test it. I promise you, no one else is going to take your word for it. No one else is going to believe you have a typing rat that understands English conversation . . . I can’t even believe that sentence came out of my mouth!”
“Okay,” Harold said, holding up his hands in surrender. “Okay, Mal. You got it. I will leave the lab. Good luck, Prometheus.”
‘THANK YOU, HAROLD.’
“Oh, give me a break,” muttered Mallory.
Harold shot a hurt and disappointed look at Mallory, before walking stiffly into the decon air-lock. He turned to face Mallory, his arms crossed, his mouth turned down in a frown. She watched as the beam scanned down his face and body. She was feeling a little guilty, about making Harold leave, but she was feeling a lot infuriated at what he was trying to make her believe. It was too far-fetched and she was seething. He had made her run all the way across campus for this . . . this elaborate practical joke and she wanted to kill him. The only thing was, in all the years she had been with Harold, he had never played practical jokes. Ever. He didn’t understand what a practical joke was. He didn’t really have a sense of humour, to speak of.
Mallory looked down at the rat with narrowed eyes. Prometheus was sitting on its haunches, staring up at her, its little red beady eyes wide, its nose wiggling, its tiny paws grasping each other. She fought down a shudder. Glancing back up to see where Harold had gone, she saw him standing in the vestibule of the lab. He had taken off his hair net, mask, and gloves. He gave her one last withering look, pointed at his eyes with two fingers, then pointed them back at her, and stepped out the door.
Mallory was shocked. She had never seen Harold do that gesture before. Did he know what it meant? He was keeping an eye on her? How? She was not going to harm his rat (even if she wanted to). She was not going to touch it.
“All right,” Mallory said in a raised voice to the room. “Who am I talking to? Who put Harold up to this? Some of my students, right? This is not funny. The joke is over. You can come out now. Ha. Ha.”
‘YOU ARE TALKING TO PROMETHEUS.’
“Enough already,” Mallory said. “I am tiring of this game very quickly.”
‘PROMETHEUS LIKES GAMES!’
Mallory laughed. “Well I don’t, especially when I am the brunt of one. Whoever you are, you’re good, but I think I can get around this.”
She grabbed a large white lab coat, that was hanging over the back of a chair, and draped it over her head and the cage Prometheus was in. No one from outside the labcoat should have been able to see what she was doing. Mallory picked up a pencil and, with the eraser end, pushed down on the rat’s tail.
“What am I doing right now?” Mallory asked, softly.
The rat squeaked and tried to wiggle its tail free. It started pounding on the keys with its tiny paws. Mallory watched it, her mouth hanging open. The rat finished typing and looked back at her, its tiny nose and whiskers twitching at her. If she had to guess, she would have said in a rather annoyed fashion. She pulled her head out from under the lab coat to look at the laptop screen.
‘YOU SQUISHED MY TAIL. IT HURT!’
“Sorry,” Mallory said and then paused, shaking her head.
“God, I’m apologizing to a rat,” she muttered. “I’m going insane.”
She ducked back under the lab coat and pulled a black marker out of her pocket. She pushed the marker tip through the cage and started painting the rat’s pink tail with black stripes.
“So what am I doing now, Smarty Pants?” Mallory asked.
‘YOU MAKE BLACK MARKS ON MY TAIL,’ showed up on her laptop screen. Mallory’s eyebrows rose at that. How could the pranksters know what she was doing under the lab coat? She ducked under the lab coat a third time. She stuck her tongue out at the rat.
“What am I doing now?” she whispered, “and stuck her tongue out again.” She pulled her head out to look at the laptop screen.
‘YOU POKE TONGUE AT ME’
Mallory stayed very still and then tried one last thing. She ducked under the lab coat and waited. Then she asked, “Okay, Prometheus, what am I doing to you right now?”
‘YOU BREATHE ON PROMETHEUS’
“Hunh,” Mallory grunted in surprise. She ducked her head back under the lab coat and shook her head, staring at the rat.
“I don’t believe any of this!” she said to the rat. “I’m just going crazy. That’s all. This is not happening. I don’t know how you are doing this, Harold Kaufmann, but I hate you right now, absolutely despise you. We are through. We are through. I just want you to know that.”
Then, in her outrage, she grabbed the rat cage with both hands and just shook it, as if she wanted to scramble all of the contents inside it. Perhaps she was trying to erase the whole incident from her mind. The rat squealed as it rolled around the cage. When she stopped rattling the cage, it scurried to the keyboard where its paws started pounding away.
‘WHAT ARE YOU DOING? WHY ARE YOU SHAKING MY CAGE?’
Mallory’s hands fell away from the cage and she just sat, with her mouth open in disbelief.
“Sorry, Prometheus,” she said. “God, I can’t believe I’ve just apologized to a rat . . . twice.”
‘MANIAC!’ Mallory read on the screen.
“That about sums it up!” Mallory said with a snort. “I think the only thing I am convinced of, is that I am going insane.”
At this time, Harold came back into the lab and stared at Mallory. She glared at him and shook her head. His eyebrows lowered as he tried to read her expression.
“I’m leaving. Goodbye, Harold,” Mallory
said to him, through the intercom. She moved towards the decon chamber door.
“Wait there,” Harold said, holding his palms up towards her. “Let me come in with you first, Mal.” He re-donned a hairnet back on his head and picked up some gloves and a face mask, as strode back into the airlock.
Mallory crossed her arms and tapped a foot. She was grinding her teeth and digging her nails into her palms. She was so angry with Harold for this entire stupid game. She wanted to cave his head in. Harold came through the decon chamber and into the ‘inner sanctum.’ As she opened her mouth to speak, Harold hurried up to the cage and looked down at Prometheus.
“You okay?” he asked the rat.
‘THIS HUMAN HURT ME!’ scrolled across the laptop screen.
“You hurt Prometheus?” Harold asked incredulously.
Mallory stood, gawking at Harold in disbelief.
“Don’t pretend you didn’t know, Harold,” she accused. “I don’t know how you did this but I have had quite enough of you trying to make a fool out of me for today . . . if not forever.”
‘MAL SQUEEZED MY TAIL!’
“Why did you squeeze Prometheus’ tail?” Harold spluttered. “And paint it black stripes!Why did you do this to Prometheus? That’s so cruel!”
Mallory’s eyebrows shot up. “I was performing experiments,” Mallory explained, sullenly. “Your rat’s fine.”
“Fine? You call this fine?” Harold demanded. “You have upset Prometheus!”
“I have . . . Harold, we are through,” Mallory said and turned to leave.
“You don’t believe me,” Harold said flatly.
“Harold, if you are telling the truth and Prometheus is real, do you have any idea what you have done?” Mallory said, as she sttod with one hand on the door handle of the decon chamber.
Harold crossed his arms and leaned back against the lab counter. His mouth formed a straight, thin line and his eyes narrowed.
“What, Dr. Campbell, do you think I have done?” he asked very quietly.
‘If you have created a sentient rat—a ‘super-intelligent’ rat—then you may have just doomed the human race.”
“And you accuse me of being ridiculous! Of course I know what I have done, and besides, it’s only the human race as you know it,” Harold answered.
Mallory’s mind reeled. What was Harold saying? What did he mean the human race as she knew it? Was he planning to change the human race as well?
“How many rats are like Prometheus, Harold?” Mallory demanded.
“Ten. There were ten rats in Prometheus’ litter.”
“You have to destroy them, Harold,” Mallory whispered. “Your rats could totally take over the planet and destroy mankind in no time. Rats are cunning, mobile, prolific, adaptable. They can eat anything. They can go almost anywhere. With the boosted intelligence you have given them...”
Mallory stopped. Harold was smiling oddly at her.
“I knew you would understand,” he whispered. “I knew you would see, right away, Mal. That’s why you’re the only woman for me; be cause of your intellect. Our children will inherit brains from both of us.”
“Are you proposing to me now, Harold Kaufmann, in the midst of this argument? Are you crazy?”
‘YES. WHAT ARE YOU SAYING, HAROLD? SHE WANTS TO DESTROY US! ARE YOU CRASZY?’
“It’s nothing personal, Prometheus,” Harold said. “She just thinks you’re too intelligent and therefore too dangerous to be allowed to breed. She is imagining what would happen if you escaped. If you had not made your oath to me, on behalf of you and all your offspring to obey me in all things, I would have had to agree with her.”
‘YOU HAVE MY SOLEMN WORD, HAROLD.’
“Yes, I know Prometheus.”
‘I DO NOT TRUST THIS HUMAN, HAROLD. SHE MUST BE ELIMINATED.’
Mallory stepped back in shock. This was all just too insane. She pinched herself, really hard, hoping she would wake up. She felt an overwhelming rage towards Harold bubbling up inside her like a volcano ready to erupt.
“You are talking about my future wife, Prometheus,” Harold said to the rat.
Mallory shook her head, “Don’t I have anything to say about this, Harold? Who said I was going to be your future wife?”
Harold gave her a strange, suspicious look. Astonishingly, it was the rat’s mouth that dropped open.
‘THIS FEMALE DOESN’T EVEN WANT TO BREED WITH YOU, HAROLD!’
“Stop this!” Mallory shouted. “You are both making me crazy! I can’t believe I am screaming at a rat! Harold, I can’t believe you proposed to me, through a rat! I can’t believe you are really Harold! Who the hell are you?”
“I’m me, Mal,” Harold said, in a ‘stay calm, you’re shouting’ voice, which made her even angrier.
“You’re not Harold.”
“I’ve changed.”
“How . . .?” Mallory stopped and suddenly looked at Harold suspiciously. “Did you inject yourself with whatever you gave the rats, Harold?”
‘BINGO!’ showed up on the laptop screen.
“Ohhh . . . shit. That explains a lot,” Mallory groaned, in a whisper.
‘SO YOU WILL HAVE TO GET RID OF HIM, TOO!’
“Don’t give me any ideas,” growled Mallory to the rat.
“Mal, we can change the world. Make it a better place. With Prometheus’ help, we can force mankind to look after the environment, enforce world peace, enforce nuclear disarmament, and force people to respect each other,” Harold pleaded.
“With talking rats? Are you absolutely out of your mind, Harold? Are you planning to set yourself up as a benevolent dictator, with an army of brilliant rats behind you? Why should they follow you?”
“With us as benevolent rulers, Mal. I can’t do this without you.”
“Because you want me for breeding purposes. I heard. . . Wait a minute. What did you really inject me with, Harold?” Mallory asked.
He looked over at the rat.
“Am I going to be much smarter . . . like the rat?” Mallory asked.
‘PROMETHEUS, PLEASE.’
Mallory rolled her eyes.
“What did you inject me with, Harold?” she persisted, her tone quieter.
Harold looked down at his feet. Suddenly, he squared his shoulders, inhaled deeply, and looked straight into her eyes.
“Insurance, Mal.”
Mallory looked at him, confused.
“Insurance?” she repeated.
He smirked at her and placed his hands on his hips. “I knew you wouldn’t agree to my plan peacefully, Mal, so I injected you with something that would make you more . . . pliable.”
“ . . . Pliable?”
“More cooperative. More agreeable. More obedient.”
“Obedient. Me. More agreeable. Really? And when, exactly, is this pliability supposed to take effect, Harold?”
“It is changing you, as we speak, Mal,” Harold said, with what Mallory took to be a smug, self-satisfied grin.
“Just what is it changing in me, Harold?”
“It is changing the structure of the inhibitory neurons in your brain, Mal, especially in your cerebral cortex. It is altering the levels of neurotransmitters within these inhibitory neurons thereby altering your behavior patterns and personality. You will essentially be much more relaxed and therefore agreeable to any order I give you. In a very short while, you will be unable to disobey me. I will just have to keep you here with me, until the change is complete.”
“You want me to stay here with you, until my transformation into a bimbo is complete,” Mallory repeated, almost vibrating with rage.
“That is my plan,” Harold said.
“And how long do you estimate this transformation will take?” Mallory asked, between gritted teeth. She was panting and fought the urge to snarl at Harold.
“I don’t know,” Harold answered. “It has been different for each rat and also for myself. Some changed much, much quicker than others.”
There was a long si
lence. In the stillness, Harold watched Mallory intently, waiting for her reaction.
“ . . . Okay,” Mallory said, her mouth widening into a rictus of a smile.
“Okay?” Harold gasped.
“Sure,” Mallory said, agreeably. “I always wanted to marry you, Harold. You know that.”
‘SHE’S FAKING IT!’ appeared on the laptop screen.
Mallory placed her body between Harold and the laptop computer. She casually reached behind her back and flipped closed the laptop screen.
“Really, Mal? Wow!” Harold breathed. “I did not think the injection would work so fast . . . and so well! I didn’t have a chance to try it out on the rats first.”
‘So, you didn’t know whether it would really work the way you thought? You just decided to take a gamble . . . with me,” Mallory said.
“Yes,” Harold said, chuckling. “You know, Mal, you never would have taken this news so calmly before. You would never have agreed to any of this. The transformation was a success and it must have already occurred. This is so amazing!”
“Good!” Mallory exclaimed. She came up to Harold and put her arms around his neck. “I’m so glad you’re happy, Harold!”
Mallory pulled Harold’s head down towards her so she could give him a big, long kiss.
“Wow,” Harold sighed. “This is so great, Mal. This change in you is astonishing. You are going to be a much happier person, now. You’ll see!” Harold bent down towards Mallory’s face again, his eyes closed and his lips puckered.
“You are so right, Harold!” Mal said, enthusiastically, as she slammed Harold’s nasal bones up into his frontal brain with the base of her right palm. As Harold crumpled to the ground, instantly dead, Mallory spun around and grabbed a glass beaker from off the counter. She smashed its rim on the metal faucet over the sink, spraying shards of glass everywhere, and turned to the cage holding Prometheus. The rat’s paws were moving rapidly over the tiny keyboard.
“I can’t hear you, Prometheus,” Mallory sang sweetly.
As she opened the cage, the rat sprang straight for her neck, its fangs bared. Mallory snatched it out of the air with her left hand and, with a deft flick of her right wrist, sliced Prometheus’ neck with the broken glass beaker, almost taking its head off in one swift movement. She tossed the almost decapitated rat back into its cage and went looking for Prometheus’ siblings.