The Laptev Virus

“Well, that’s why we were trying to keep him warm,” he said, flashing her that irresistible smile with little dimples in his cheeks. “We used to just leave the mice to wake up on their own, but this latest test confirmed that if we artificially maintained the mice at a constant 37 degrees Celsius, and allowed them to wake up slowly, they do much better.”

Molly listened enraptured as he explained that the procedure had worked and the mouse was fine, but now, lab protocol dictated, he could not be a part of any further studies, since mice could not be re-used, and once mice had left the kennels where they were kept and had been mixed with other mice, they were not supposed to be returned to their original homes. It was a shame to put him down when he was otherwise healthy, but those were the rules.

“So, there’s nothing wrong with him?” Molly inquired, hoping she didn’t appear stupid.

“Nothing at all. Now that he’s warmed up and woken up, he’s perfectly fine. Our test worked and now we know that it’s better to wake the mice up that way. So he served his purpose and future anesthetized mice will have an easier time coming out of it.”

Molly pictured an incubator with a long, two inch wide electric blanket and the mice all lying down in a long row, their tiny little heads, feet and tails peeking out from top and bottom of the blanket as they slowly recovered from the anesthesia. Or maybe it would be like a sauna, or a resort for mice, all nice and cozy and warm. Perhaps some of them would wake up earlier than the others and start crawling around? Would the researchers also put food and water in there for the early risers? She shook her head at her own silly thinking and took the mouse gently from Kevin. It stretched and gave a small yawn, which made her smile. “So you’re sure there’s nothing unusual about him?” she repeated. “No built-in tumors, no aneurism time bombs or anything?”

Kevin’s brow furrowed and he looked in mock concentration, then he brightened. “He was sterilized as a pup, but nothing else. Off you go, little guy,” he said, taking the mouse back from Molly’s hand.

Just then Tammy, one of the technicians whom Molly really disliked, entered the room.

“Oh, Kevin, there you are,” she said in a breathy voice, batting her pretty blue eyes at him before turning and giving Molly a quick up and down look that was both assessing and dismissive.

Molly took a step back from Kevin even though there was no reason for her to do so—they were doing nothing wrong. But somehow she always felt intimidated by Tammy with her impeccable blonde hair and attractive long eyelashes which she heavily accentuated. Molly seemed to always forget about wearing make-up until she came in contact with someone like Tammy who obviously spent an inordinate amount of time on her appearance.

“Kevin, I need you to come take a look at a situation we have in C8,” Tammy cooed.

Molly noticed that there was no ‘please’ or ‘when you have time.’ Tammy assumed that if he was with Molly it was not important. All pretty girls seemed to think that what they had to say to someone like Kevin was much more interesting than whatever she would have to say, and the realization made a small blush creep over Molly’s face.

“Um,” said Kevin, still holding the mouse.

“I can take him,” said Molly reaching for the mouse. “I have an empty cage back in C12.”

“But the mice aren’t supposed to mix.”

“It’s all right,” she said quickly. “I’ve got a cage that’s been cleaned and it’s separate from the others. I’ll just keep him there for a few hours and then I’ll take him to the Waiting Room if you want.”

Kevin hesitated.

“Kevin,” said Tammy, drawing out the syllables in his name. She was clearly becoming impatient. She strutted over to him and handed him a notebook. “Come on. I need to show this to you now.”

Kevin glanced at the notebook and then turned back toward Molly. “Okay, I guess that’s fine, but please don’t forget to take him to the Waiting Room later. You’ll remember?”

“Of course,” said Molly, accepting the mouse and turning away from Tammy. After Kevin and Tammy left, she took the little guy by the scruff of his neck to place him in a carrying cage which she would use to transport him back to Room C12, the room in the vivarium where she worked. Later that afternoon she would take him to the room they had euphemistically nicknamed the ‘Waiting Room’, which was at the far end of the building. There she would place him in a larger cage and the mouse would be mixed with all of the other mice that could no longer be used. These “expended” mice were stored together and had one last chance to enjoy themselves, romping and playing with their peers, before they were sent to be sacrificed painlessly.