Prime Slime

Evan celebrated his 50th birthday atop the highest peak in Montana. He ascended the mountain, intoxicated by the thin air and Jessa’s note, which he read repeatedly on the ski lift up to 9000 feet, and then on foot to 11,000 feet. Alone at the top, he shouted it out over Big Sky.

Nature encourages contemplation. Atop this magnificent loft, Evan reflected on recent events and new possibilities. At the top of his game and on top of the world, he let out a howl that echoed through the valley, knowing his friends back home would feel the vibes. Evan celebrated his 50th with the world at his feet.

Lately, he had many reasons to feel energized. A recent period of self-discovery, abetted by several spiritual workshops in NYC, helped to break through the emotional morass that held him captive. One of those workshops was the Landmark Forum, the modern version of EST. The Forum taught Evan how to let go of childhood decisions that still governed his actions. It taught him to take control of his life, lifting him from a crippling funk, full of debilitating excuses. By untangling the web of faulty thinking, it allowed him to see the positive. Good things were finally happening to him, and it was time to seize his destiny.

Hidden in an ivory tower all those years, it was time to get out and live more fully. In this spiritual transformation, he was taking responsibility for his actions. Rather than be crippled by the same sad sack story, used by most people in the Forum. Rather than use the trauma of the past to make excuses for the present, Evan started taking charge of his script. He was ready to write the next chapter.

He was already on a high when Jessa came along. Otherwise, such a lovely creature wouldn’t have noticed him. From there, things just played out, and nature took its course.

What Evan needed most was a worthy companion. He dated around, but no one held his attention long. That special someone had not yet shown up, and it was likely he hadn’t as well. As he evolved, his notion of the ideal woman was also in flux. He didn’t quite know what it was, but knew he did not have it.

Back home, Jessa and Evan continued to correspond via email. His first missive to her, entitled “My Wild Mediterranean Rose”, was a song to a maiden in distress, embellished with poetry and art to stoke the fires. He knew she wasn’t exactly right for him, but it felt good to be enamored with someone.

In her response, Jessa confessed her marriage to a strict and jealous man. They fought constantly, which left her very unhappy, vulnerable and primed for a knight to rescue her. The marriage was forced, and she was defiant. The trick for Evan was to strike when her husband was away on business.

On a hot summer weekend, with no work-related deadlines or other plans, he took a ferry across the Long Island Sound to see her again. Her husband was out of town, so they arranged to meet at her place in New Haven. Evan arrived on schedule.

He rang her doorbell and was quickly pulled inside, to avoid rousing her snoopy neighbors. Dressed casually in t-shirt and shorts, she leaned over and welcomed Evan with a warm, wet kiss. Jolts of electricity rushed in parallel up their spines. They stared at each other for a while, like long-lost lovers.

This was the first time he saw her dressed down and without makeup, yet as beautiful as ever. The goal was to dress her down further. But, first he had to engage her, which was made difficult by the clash of cultures and the language barrier.

The trick for both was to pretend that sex was not the goal. So, their best bet was to talk science. Jessa was very curious about Evan’s invention. He had no problem obliging, and loved to talk about his work. He re-enacted all the drama at Burrstone; how his invention completely changed their patent and revenue sharing policies. He listed the many potential medical and industrial MIFF applications, the companies interested in each application, and the hurdles that lie ahead.

Jessa asked about the technical name for the product, and Evan replied: “We were going to call it ‘anti-slime solution’, or ASS for short, but no one would buy it.” Jessa laughed aloud like a fifth grader. She had a thing for potty humor.

It wasn’t easy to segue from science to romance, but Evan was an old pro at it. It started with a glass of red wine and a back rub. Gliding his hand gently on her cheek got things going. And once it started, it was lights out.

Jessa was transported to a new level of feeling. She melted effortlessly into Evan’s arms. His kisses down her neck sent shivers through her body. His hands were made for pleasure; sometimes soft and caressing, sometimes deep and therapeutic, but always hitting the spot. It beat her husband’s jump-and-hump routine any day. Each time she recalled it afterward made her eager for love.

Moments later, Evan awoke from a post-orgasmic snooze to the sound of a TV blasting. Jessa was glued to the tube, and whining about Muslims not being treated fairly. The report was on growing anti-Islamic sentiment in the US. Relations had deteriorated since the World Trade Center disaster. Jessa did not like being treated as a foreigner, and regretted ever leaving home.

“Ungrateful Americans!” she sobbed, sitting naked at the end of the bed. “I am a model citizen, but walked on like dirt! Women are treated better in my own country. What am I doing here?”

“You are most definitely a model citizen,” Evan responded, still half asleep. He tried to pull her back down with him.

“You insensitive brute!” she screamed as she pulled away. “Don’t you feel what is in my heart? What kind of man are you?”

“A normal one?” Evan offered. That did not go over well, so he inquired: “Tell me what you want to hear.”

“What is that supposed to mean? Where is your awareness? What is wrong with you?”

“Lighten up!” Evan muttered. He still didn’t get it.

“What a jerk! I want to go home, back to Lebanon.” She struggled emotionally with that last thought. “No, there’s no place for a Muslim woman. I want to, to kill myself!”

“Don’t be hysterical. Everything’s fine. Let’s just try to have some fun. What else is there but this moment, here and now, you and me? Life is insane, but we don’t have to dwell on it.”

Evan needed to improve his game skills, and act more like he cared. She was not going to snap out of her funk until he showed some compassion. He tried once more with feeling.

“I imagine it’s lonely being in your shoes. With all the hatred and ignorance in the world, there’s no place for a woman, much less a Muslim woman, to feel safe. I really feel for you.”

Jessa looked up at Evan with big, brown eyes. Finally he heard her and felt her pain. From the foot of the bed she jumped into his arms, and they made love once more.

Afterward, they drove down to the Sound for a walk on the beach. It was mid-summer, and the New England heat was merciless. Protected by wrap-around sunglasses and complete sun block, Evan enjoyed the bustle of the harbor and the ladies sunbathing. He was an unabashed, card-carrying, girl watcher from way back. Evan considered it an apt pursuit for students of nature.

Walking barefoot along the water’s edge, they started to feel their feet sticking to the sand. Indeed, a gooey substance caked up on their feet as they tread the beach. Soon enough, contrails of slime clung to their feet, like chewing gum on a hot sidewalk. They had never seen anything like it.

“What the hell is this?” Evan shouted, searching his biological mind for possible explanations. “It’s not oil or tar, for sure.”

“They’ve had problems here in the past with sewage waste and fertilizer runoff, which has affected the ocean’s wildlife,” Jessa speculated. “They have depleted the fish that eat the jellyfish, so now these disgusting creatures are out of control.”

“I see plenty of jellyfish swarming in the water and washed up on shore, but this is not jellyfish.”

“Perhaps it’s a new species of beach slime,” Jessa said. There was a stinging, ammonia-like odor in the air.

“It could be an invasive species,” Evan ventured. “In Maui there’s a green-brown algae that washes up on the beach at high tide. And it’s foul smelling, I hear.”

“I’ve actually seen a bacterial bloom in the Baltic that turned the sea into stinking, yellow-brown slush. It’s destroying the fish farms,” Jessa added.

“You’ve been following this horror too, I see. How about the sticky muck that collects in the Adriatic Sea? In summer it washes up on shore as white mucus, fouling the beaches, and forming globs as big as people.”

“I don’t see any human-sized globs, so it’s not that,” Jessa reacted. “I feel like I’m walking on a king-size biofilm!”

“This is disgusting! Whatever happened to fresh air and clean water, anyway? I have never seen the likes of it, especially this far north,” Evan said, as he scraped the goo off his feet with a stick.

“I’m feeling itchy,” Jessa cried. “Let’s get out of here.”

They cleaned the remaining slime off their feet at the car with an old towel before entering the vehicle. On the short drive back to the ferry, they sat quietly in thought.

As they departed, Evan was left with a long, endearing kiss to remember, and to forget about slime for a while.

Despite the distractions, he got what he came for. They had little in common, except for a fascination with biological films, an aching in their hearts, and a need for love. For a moment they escaped together. He knew he may never see her again, but the sensations would linger. Jessa was unforgettable.

Upon returning home, Evan realized he had not seen the lab in a week or more. Throughout the summer, he had barely laid eyes on his students. They did not require much supervision, but he made it a point to check on them regularly. To this end, he was remiss and irresponsible. Evan also needed to check his emails, which by now numbered into the many hundreds.

Back at the lab, Dexter had made considerable progress with his speedy mutants. He had isolated several clones that contained multiple copies of the Kleb motility gene. These “safe” bacteria were now traveling at warp speed. He named them Speedy Gonzalez, or SGZ for short. Each differed in velocity, depending on how many copies of the speed gene they possessed. He labeled them SGZ-1 thru SGZ-30. Strain SGZ-27 was considerably faster than the other clones, darting around under the microscope like a pin ball on speed. It was roughly 50 times faster than normal, which equated to around an inch per minute. Though not fast in human terms, it was blazing for bacteria.

To monitor the speed and endurance of his bugs, Dexter employed the video imaging system in Evan’s office, which magnified the movement of bioluminescent bacteria on the computer screen. Live bacteria showed up as rapidly moving blobs on the screen. Dead bacteria did not light up or move, and were not detectable. The SGZ-27 clone was particularly bright. Speed was a product of that energy, which tested their instruments to the limit.

Dexter was now focused on the hyper SGZ-27 clone. This bug was not grown in the warm, moist incubator. Rather, it was kept refrigerated to slow its growth and movement. Each day a fresh culture was prepared, by transferring day-old bacteria onto a new Petri dish. A tiny smear of bacteria was placed at the center of the dish, and the colony grew outward, like rippling water. By day’s end, the culture covered the entire agar surface. At warmer temperatures, this took just minutes to complete.

There was nothing particularly dangerous about SGZ-27. It couldn’t cause disease, and was engineered not to thrive outside the lab. Plus, its energy requirements were extremely demanding. These speed demons were high-maintenance, and had to be fed constantly. Otherwise, they’d burn out and die, once the nutrients were used up. SGZ-27 could only live in a bubble.

These mutants were also susceptible to MIFF. A whiff of MIFF stopped their rapid movement, and made the screen go dim. Given its high MIFF sensitivity and safe design, Dexter was sure SGZ-27 posed no danger. Speedy Gonzalez or otherwise, this E. coli was harmless.

Evan arrived to find Dexter and Terri hard at work. He was pleased that, in his absence, they could work independently. Dexter greeted him first, ever eager to discuss his work.

“Now you can see how intense these mutants are,” Dexter said excitedly, as SGZ-27 flashed on the screen.

“I’ve never seen anything like it!” Evan gasped. “How did you create this creature?”

“By cloning multiple Kleb motility genes into one organism.”

Evan’s excitement turned to concern. That Kleb strain scared the daylights out of him, and this hyper-mutant was mind boggling.

“So, what precautions have you taken, Dexter? Are you following Federal guidelines?”

“Yes, this is a safe strain,” Dexter assured him. “It has been stripped of everything that could cause disease. It is readily killed by sunlight or MIFF, and cannot thrive outside of the lab.

“Plus, its need for speed is incredibly demanding. These bacteria would starve themselves to death quickly. All that motion is taxing. It tires me out just watching them,” he said with a cackle. “I can barely keep them alive. In fact, I’ve gone back to the freezer several times, when the active cultures go kaput. Refrigeration helps slow them down and keeps them fresher longer.”

“Be careful,” Evan admonished. “Do not let them out of containment. They may not seem a menace, but guidelines are guidelines. And, for heaven’s sake, do not expose anyone or anything to this creature.”

“No way that could happen,” said his confident disciple.

“So…what do you plan to do with them, Dexter?”

“I’m thinking on that, sir. They might be useful in some industrial process.”

“Yes, but that means releasing them into the environment,” Evan responded. “It will take years to get approval from the EPA. No matter how useful these bacteria may be, it may be a nightmare getting them by the regulatory agencies.”

“We could keep them in closed containers in high-level containment labs,” Dexter suggested.

“Perhaps,” Evan allowed, “but that limits your commercial potential seriously. And, what if they escape?”

“If worse came to worse, the firefly gene would help us keep a handle on them. You can see them in the dark.”

“The luciferase tag is comforting,” Evan agreed. “Just be extra careful.” Evan knew he had to drive this point home, as Dexter was a bit reckless.

“You worry too much Prof.” Dexter insisted.

“That’s my job, Dexter.” An uneasy feeling gripped him as he turned away from his tech-crazed pupil.