Science Man

What destiny looks like under the microscope./?

In all your adult life you have not as much as pushed a man. But you don’t deny killing him. In fact you planned it, thought about multiple ways to go about it, and finally decided to do right it in the middle of his living room.

After two weeks of casing the apartment complex and Mr. Buchanan’s every move–you took pictures, you took videos, you went through his mail, you introduced yourself to him, made small talks and found out he was a Badgers fan. It just happens to be you did your masters at University of Wisconsin in Madison. You could care less about basketball, shoot you still think Michael Jordan plays for the Bulls. But going to the university, you couldn’t escape it. You learned a couple of things about the team, and on a couple of occasions you got caught up in the frenzy long enough to amass few bullet points so as to not be completely left out of any related conversation. So you saw this as your opportunity to get closer and get to know him. Because truth is you were not sure. But all your life you have been pragmatic, faith only in well tested and proven facts. You are a scientist. You’d call science your religion were you not convinced science was more superior to that.

You invited him over to watch a game. You hung out couple of other times since. He was alright, you thought, a little quirky, but who is not, right? But the more you got to know him, the more convinced you became. His biography was a too close to the subjects of your research. It didn’t help either when you saw the movies he collected. You decided something had to be done; something drastic enough to stop the loss of innocent lives. And there was only one sure way of neutralizing the threat, only one sure way of saving countless lives. You decided Mr. Buchanan had to die, to save countless others.

That evening he invited you over to watch a game. You went with your gun, as you have been doing around him lately. You watched the first half of the Badgers vs Hawkeyes game. At the beginning of the third quarter, you went to the bathroom. For no particular reason you washed your hands clean with soap, all along asking for forgiveness, reassuring yourself it was for the greater good. With tears swelling in your eyes you couldn’t recognize yourself. You kept going back and forth—do it or forget it, now or give it sometime, science doesn’t lie or environmental agents play a part. Then you took out the gun, a litter surprised at the weight of it, how warm it was. You held it to your side, took a deep breath and exhaled. You turned the door knob slowly. Once the door was opened, you moved swiftly–three steps to where Mr. Buchanan was sitting with his back to you, about to put a piece of Doritos in his mouth. You aimed and shot a hole in his head. It all went in slow motion and you could swear you saw the bullet come out of his head and fly into the television set.

You stood there for a while, the gun still in your hand, over his slumped body with blood dripping down from the couch to the cream colored carpet. Then you called Officer Seng.

“Joel Buchanan is no longer a threat.” “What do you mean?” “I mean we no longer have to wait for him to kill. I shot him. He is dead.” “You did what!?” “Amori, I need you to hang up right now and dial 911. I’m on my way.”

You hung up the phone and dialed 911. You waited for the ambulance and police to arrive. You explained to Sergeant Larson that you were a scientist, a geneticist; the researcher behind the ‘Serial Murder Gene’ discovery. That you had asked Officer Seng for some DNA samples, and after analysis you had discovered that Mr. Buchanan had the gene. You had shared the information with Officer Seng, but he told you the police couldn’t arrest an innocent man. You shared your findings with your bosses only to be told this was a misuse of your research, and in fact you were reprimanded. So you decided your only course of action was to kill Mr. Buchanan yourself.

Is this correct?

Written by IBé in: Weekly Shorts | Tags: , ,

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