PitBabeS2, Chapter 2 pg8

 pg8

   Saying I’m doing this for society wouldn’t be entirely wrong, but one of the main reasons I’ll never give up on this project is that I’m certain when it succeeds, Babe will be safer. He’ll live the peaceful, normal life he often talks about, free from threats or sneak attacks, no longer society’s focal point, and safe from those with special abilities who might misuse their powers to harm him. And I’ll get to be the ordinary guy by his side, focusing on nothing but him.

   I’ll create a world where Babe can be happy. That’s my bare minimum goal.

   I walked out to the front of the university, taking a narrow path along the fence where there’s a stretch of parking for about two blocks. The area near my faculty building never has open spots, no matter how early or late I arrive. So, I park here and either walk or take a motorbike taxi to campus. It’s not exactly convenient, but there’s no other choice. Life doesn’t offer that many options. There was a time I took the train because I was fed up with finding parking, but Babe kept nagging that I wasn’t using the car he gave me. His complaints dragged on until they ended with, “Oh, so you don’t love me anymore, huh?” In the end, I started driving it just to put his mind at ease. Otherwise, he’d never stop whining.

   The lab for testing the medicine isn’t far from the university. If traffic’s clear, it’s about a fifteen-minute drive (or seven to ten if Babe’s behind the wheel). It’s an old lab belonging to a professor who used to teach here. Now that he’s doing full-time research, he renovated and sterilized the lab for reuse. He’s one of the researchers on my project, and much of this is thanks to Uncle Rewat, who has connections with many doctors and researchers. Without him, this project wouldn’t have taken shape like it has.

   The building is a five-story structure. The third and fourth floors house the research labs, the cleanest and most tightly controlled areas. The first and second floors are more like meeting rooms and lounges. When I don’t know where to go, I often end up lounging here. Babe says this place feels depressing, like an old medical professor’s break room, but I like it. Maybe because I know this place could lead us to something big. Aside from Babe’s house, this is where I spend most of my time. Actually, the fifth floor has a spare room set up as a temporary bedroom. Sometimes, when waiting for lab results, the researchers crash here. I’ve stayed over a few times too, and Babe usually joins me. He complains about the small bed, the less comfy mattress, and the gloomy vibe, but he sleeps like a baby every time. Honestly, he probably just wants something to grumble about.

   “Hey! What’s up, handsome?” A voice greeted me the moment I opened the door.

   “Hey, Touch,” I greeted back. Touch is one of the researchers on the project and the owner of this building. He’s Uncle Rewat’s junior, who insisted I call him “big bro,” and now it’s just stuck. “What’re you up to?”

   “Cooking instant noodles, waiting for lab results,” the senior researcher said, pulling a noodle cup from the cabinet and peeling off the plastic with a sluggish motion. Researchers are always like this—sharp and quick in the lab, but outside, they’re like snails, moving slowly and sometimes barely coherent. It took me a while to get used to their quirks. “Done with class?”

   “Yup.” I flopped onto the couch in the lounge, glancing around with a slight sense of oddity. It was quieter than usual, even though we had a meeting scheduled. “Where’s everyone else?”

   “A couple in the lab, a couple napping, and a couple on their way.”

   “Oh…”

   “Don’t worry. If you say you’re coming, they’ll all show up.”

   “I feel like the chairman or something.”

   “Pretty much.”

   “Haha, with a face like mine?” I let out a laugh. The idea of me being the boss of these brilliant people is hilarious enough to make my teeth fall out. I’ve got nothing but dreams and ambition. They’re the ones making it happen. I wouldn’t dare call myself their leader—just a small team member keeping tabs on progress. That’s more like it. “How’s today going?”

   “Can’t say yet. Waiting on results,” Touch shrugged. His reply sounded snarky, but he meant it literally. Like I said, these people speak their own language. Normal conversation doesn’t work with them.

   “What’d you do before waiting?”

   “Made the drug work.”

   See what I mean?

   Not exactly easy to talk to.

   “Any chance it’s looking positive?”

   “Hmm… maybe.” The ace researcher slurped a mouthful of noodles, nodded, and chased it with a gulp of spicy broth. Just watching made my throat burn, but that’s probably no big deal for someone who eats in the lab. “Wanna be a lab rat?”

   “I’m game if you guys need me.”

   “Say no sometimes, kid,” Touch said lazily, glancing at my arm with a look that seemed part exasperated, part pitying. “There’s no space left to poke.”

   “It’s been a week since the last one. You can get another shot now.”

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