5
“Mothershitter,” Eugene says after I finish relaying the story of my morning. His accent is stronger than ever, and his usually calm voice is loud, the tension in it reverberating through the lab. “If they harm one hair—”
“Dude, calm down,” says Bert. He’s been Eugene’s computer guy and lab assistant for the last ten days.
“It’s clear they won’t harm Mira,” Hillary echoes.
Though I doubt she visits the lab as often as her boyfriend, she was in the neighborhood when I texted her to come over; she and Bert were planning to do brunch.
“Okay, guys. Now that I’ve told you everything, I have to ask: What the hell is this monkey”—I point to the animal standing with an iPad in the middle of the room—“doing here?”
I noticed the monkey when I first entered the lab, but I was so wound up that
