Laboratory Love
Authors: Chrystal Wynd
Laboratory Love
By Chrystal Wynd
Copyright 2016 Chrystal Wynd
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License Notes
This ebook is licensed for your
personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other
people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please
purchase an additional copy for each recipient. Thank you for respecting the
hard work of this author.
****
This story is owned and copyrighted
by author Chrystal Wynd.
****
This is a work of fiction. Names,
places, businesses, characters and incidents are either the product of the
author’s imagination or are used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to
actual persons living or dead, actual events or locales is purely coincidental.
****
The
explosion was sudden.
Simon
and I dove for cover as the detonation blew razor-sharp shrapnel in all
directions. I hit the ground and rolled, heart beating in my throat. Heads
down, we waited as the patter of landing debris slowed, then finally stopped.
After
several heartbeats of silence, we cautiously raised our heads. All clear. Simon
and I slowly got to our feet.
I
was not happy.
“How
difficult can it be,” I said, looking at the smoking remains of the shattered
beaker, “to make the perfect anti-wrinkle cream?”
My
lab partner and fellow cosmetic chemist Simon Cormick brushed debris from his
dark, shaggy hair. “If it was that easy, Corine,” he said, reaching for the
tiny fire extinguisher clamped to the lab table, “it would already be done. That’s
why Blonde Concepts pays us the big bucks.”
“Hmmpphh,”
I said, making sure the ends of my shoulder-length black hair were unsinged.
“Fine. Whatever. And you can put away that fire extinguisher, buster. There’s
no fire. Well, not anymore.”
“I’m
just being cautious,” said Simon, holding up his hands defensively. He had
great pecs for a scientist. “I did recommend against you adding the zinc.”
“It
seemed like a good idea at the time,” I said, waving smoke from my face.
“Maybe,”
said Simon, “but then you added the rest of the periodic table.”
“That
was for flavor.”
“It’s
a topical ointment.”
“Maybe
they want a tasty topical ointment for those more romantic moments.”
Simon
chuckled, his brown eyes rolling. “Look, Corine, you have to be patient, okay?
You’re a good chemist. Super creative. But you really need to learn patience.”
I
scowled at the multitude of chemicals and beakers. Patience was for those with
nothing better to do than wait around for something to happen.
“Whatever,”
I said.
“Anyway,
let’s get this mess cleaned up and get back to work,” said Simon, wiping soot
from his cheek. “After all, the Blonde Concepts spring line isn’t going to
produce itself.”
*****
Twenty
minutes later, we had cleared the debris and were working on our actual
assignment…the Blonde Concepts spring line of cosmetics.
Or
at least Simon was. I was busy trying to figure out a way to get Simon to ask
me out this weekend. Or any weekend. But Doctor Brainiac was too busy playing
with his chemicals to notice me. Whatever.
I
switched my attention back to the liquid lipstick we were discussing.
“Let’s
try adding a little more Eosin,” he said.
“Eosin?”
I said. “We’re going for cutting edge fashion here, not last summer.”
Simon
glanced at me, eyebrows raised. “You didn’t strike me as a fashionista,
Corine.”
I
snorted. “I couldn’t care less about fashion,” I said. “That’s for vapid
socialites. But I’m all for raising the bar on cosmetic innovation. Let’s add
some chrystalmic-based pigment.”
Simon
laughed. “Those vapid socialites help pay our salary, Corine. And you’re out of
your mind if you think I’m going to start experimenting with chrystalmic
anything
,” he said.
“Nobody’s used that plant for cosmetic pigment before. Or for anything, for
that matter. You don’t just start tossing in stuff to see what color it turns
into.”
I
rolled my eyes. “I know they’re still poking it with sticks, but that stuff’s
perfect for lipstick. Heck, perfect for a lot of cosmetics. Good consistency,
handles heat extremes well, non-acidic…”
“Non-combustible?”
“C’mon,
Simon,” I said, grinning. “Live a little! Besides, we need something new and
innovative for the spring line.”
“I
agree,” said Simon, “but we’ll stick to the more traditional collection of
polymers, oils, pigments and chemicals, okay?”
“Fine,”
I said. “Play it safe. Whatever.”
Simon
shook his head. “You’re awfully cynical for someone barely out of college,
Corine.”
“I’ve
been out of college for over three years,” I said, “and you know it, so stop.
At least I’m not afraid to try thinking outside the box, Old School.”
Simon
sighed. He was only a year or two older than me, but he had been hired by
Blonde Concepts right after graduation, while I was still a relatively new
hire. He was an experienced lab scientist while I still barely rated above the
lab techs. He was old-school watch-and-wait and I was new-school
make-it-happen.
He
had great shoulders for an old-school guy, though. Oh, yes.
“Look,
New School, I’m hungry,” he said, brushing his shaggy hair away from his eyes. He
always seemed to need a haircut. "I’m going to go eat some lunch.”
I
waited, hoping he’d ask me to go with him, but he just gave me a nod and exited
the room. That left me alone in the lab.
“Fine,”
I mumbled. “Fine!”
Suddenly
my cell phone sounded. A text message from Simon! Perhaps he had changed his
mind?
I
read the text, then sighed. He was going to drop off some patent applications
after lunch, so he wouldn’t be returning to the lab today.
Frustrated,
I looked over our notes. What the hell was wrong with him?! It’s not like I was
ugly and I knew there was no way at all that Simon was looking for a stupid Barbie
doll. He just wasn’t that shallow.
He
wanted intelligence. He wanted someone with ability. Someone not afraid to take
chances, dammit! But he was never going to find anyone playing with chemicals
all day.
Then
I got an idea.
“He
needs to see innovation in action,” I said to myself, nodding. “I'll show
Doctor Play-It-Safe how innovation works!”
*****
I
opened my notebook and worked out a quick formula. I ran a counter-equation as
a triangulation check and then another until I was satisfied with the ratios. I
moved some things over, re-balanced my equations, worked in a few more
calculations, then added the wildcard. A few more test runs confirmed it.
I
finally sat back satisfied. This could work. I would
make
this work.
I
began preparations.
The
adventure began as I selected a range of common and not-so-common elements. A
touch of this and a dab of that. I mixed colors and combined mediums. A little
lanolin, a lot of castor oil. Some beeswax and a touch of perfume. And along
with everything else, treated chrystalmic pigment #1 bonded with oils and a
chrystalmic polymer joined the party. I also added enough neutral material that
the ratio of chrystalmic would actually register as relatively low.
And
yes, I included a few counter-agents for stabilization as well. I wasn’t a
complete idiot and I wasn’t blind to the dangers inherent in using a relatively
unknown compound.
I
carefully noted the process and the ratios in my notebook as I mixed my
compounds, although I was careful to use modified codes for the chrystalmic
ingredients. My notebook was technically the property of Blonde Concepts and
although Dr. Banford was unlikely to look through my notes for any reason short
of a process patent application, it didn’t hurt to be cautious. Clandestine
experiments performed by junior scientists tended to be frowned upon.
The
process was dragging now and not nearly as much fun as it had been earlier.
Finally, however, a large beaker containing my philosopher’s stone was placed
on a Bunsen burner. It wouldn’t be long now.
My
new creation gently swirled, liquefied by the heat. The color was developing
into a breathtaking red, although the end hue was uncertain until the compound
cooled. It was unlikely that I had gotten it right on the first try- this was a
whole new cosmetic- but the thrill of creation gave me a rush. This is what
science was all about! Not standing around, plugging in the same old formulas,
doing the same thing over and over again. Creation. Discovery!
I
poured a small amount of the cooling liquid from the beaker into a small test
tube and set the test tube into a wooden rack. Then I sat on a wooden stool, opened
my spiral notebook and updated my notes as I played the waiting game.
Fortunately
I didn’t have to wait long. I was already standing when the digital gauge
finally flipped to the target temperature. It was show-time.
*****
The
color was a bright, lustrous, liquid red. Classic movie star red, but more so. I
wear very little makeup myself- I leave that to bimbos and silly adolescents-
but the teenagers would be fighting over this one and I could see why. I had
possibly struck cosmetic gold with this one.
I
got a very thin, very fine paintbrush. I stirred the thick liquid, then nodded,
satisfied with the consistency. I positioned a small mirror on the lab table in
front of me and angled it so I could see my mouth. Then I dipped the brush once
more into the compound, took a deep breath and drew the brush across my lower
lip.
I
waited several seconds, but there was no reaction. No burning, no odd smell, no
strange tastes, nothing. I pressed my lips together, but still no worrisome
sensations. I hadn’t expected any issues- chrystalmic had already been proven
safe for casual human contact and ingestion- but it was still an anxious
moment. Fortunately everything seemed fine.
Mentally
shrugging, I dipped the brush into the thick color once more and then proceeded
to layer my lips with the thick, rich lipstick.
My
lips came to life in the mirror. Matched against my raven-black hair, the
contrast made my face glow. Granted, I felt silly- bright red lipstick was not
my choice of color
ever
-
but regardless, the shade was a definite success. The spring line for Blonde
Concepts had a potential flagship color ready to go already! This was big.
I
ran a finger gently over my lower lip, then checked my fingertip. No residue. I
did it again, harder this time. Still no color on my finger. Picking up a Styrofoam
cup, I pressed my lips firmly on the rim, then held the cup in front of me. No smeared
residue on the lip of the cup at all. Despite being fully and completely dry,
the lipstick remained looking glossy and freshly-applied.
After
several seconds of gazing at the mirror, I finally registered a slight tingling
in my lips. Not a bad tingling- certainly not painful- but a low grade tingle
covering my entire lip surface area. I nodded and made some notations in my
spiral notebook. Something like that could be worked into marketing.
I
finally glanced at the clock and decided it was time to go home. I had already
stayed long past my typical end-of-day.
It
was time for the lipstick to come off. I couldn't let anybody see me wearing it
just yet. Making the compound was one thing- curiosity is at the heart of any
scientific progress- but actively testing a product without going through
protocol was a big no-no. I could let Simon see the chemical concoction, of
course, but he couldn’t see me wearing it.
I
pulled a paper towel from a roll and folded it into a square. Despite firmly
pressing the paper towel against my lips and then wiping even more forcefully,
I was unable to remove any of the color. This shade was proving to be
remarkably tenacious. It had a chance at setting a standard for all-day
lipstick. I had really created something special here.
Since
paper towels obviously weren’t going to work, it was time to resort to the lab
supply of makeup remover. Our business being what it was, our remover formula
was stronger than the typical over-the-counter stuff.
Except
that didn’t work either.
Feeling
only slight twinges of apprehension, I slathered makeup remover over my lips,
then soaked a sponge and held it against my lips to soak off the
aggressively-clinging lip color. Still no go. After several minutes of trying
without success, I gave up and started using lesser-known but generally
effective methods of removing liquid lip color.
A
generous amount of Vaseline was layered over my lips, but that didn’t even dent
the glossy appearance. Several swipes with lip balm did nothing. I tried olive
oil and then tried some micellar water. Still nothing. I found some cold cream
and even tried that. My lips remained as red and glossy as when I had started.
Desperation
set in.
Heart
pounding, I took a toothbrush and tried scrubbing off the tenacious color. No
effect. No effect at all. Despite the harsh treatment of the abrasive
toothbrush, my lips looked like I had just applied a fresh layer of the bright,
glossy red lipstick.
I
stared at my reflection in disbelief. Until I figured out how to get this
lipstick off, I was stuck with a ridiculous slut-red pout. But as embarrassing
as that was, the more ominous issue was that I had to get it off before anyone
saw me wearing it. If anybody saw me now, I'd end up in trouble or-