his fingers.
Icy panic shot up Fisherâs back. For a moment, time seemed to stop. The canister pinwheeled, plummeting to the ground. His eyes followed the path of the falling canister, helplessly, until it struck the hard steel floor.
And bounced.
Fisher exhaled. Of course! It was plastic. His mom was far too smart to keep an important chemical in a container made of glass.
Fisher slipped a sealable test tube out of his sockâhe always had one there, just in caseâconnected it to the small built-in port on the canisterâs seal, and eased out a bit of the advanced AGH. He quickly replaced the canister, made sure that he had not disturbed anything else in the room, and slipped out again.
The first part of Mission: Fisher Bas Number Two had been a success. Fisher allowed himself a small smile. Not even space hero (and scoundrel) Vic Daring could have done it better.
An hour later, FP lay on the floor, slowly chomping his way through a green apple, as Fisher began the process of re-creating the Accelerated Growth Hormone in his room. He had put on his white lab coat, custom-tailored to his small frame, and his gloves and goggles. A variety of laboratory supplies and materials mingled with boxes of cookies and bags of barbecue-flavored potato chips on his lab table. He had three days to make this experiment a success.
Fisher cracked his knuckles and began his work.
Clone Log. Friday, 7:00 p . m . The first stage of the process will be to establish a proper balance of the AGH, cellular tissue, and other substances to begin rapid cell division. Also, to keep a small, hungry pig with the power of flight away from my snacks. Constant vigilance will be required!
Clone Log. Friday, 7:40 p . m . Am leaving chemicals to stew while joining parents at dinner table. Have a cover story prepared in the event of fire, explosion, or fiery explosion.
Clone Log. Friday, 8:25 p . m . Have been experimenting with different chemical combinations. Have not as yet found the correct quantities. Now taking necessary pause for recalibration. And Babylon 5 reruns.
Clone Log. Friday, 11:46 p . m . Balance may be properly achieved with a rapid jet of oxygen to help set the process in motion. However, volatility of oxygen is causing some possible flammability issues. Small flames causing set backs. Hope Mom wonât notice the smoke damage. Also: running low on ginger ale.
Clone Log. Saturday, 12:13 a . m . After many oxygen-jet trials, am increasing to higher levels in a more rapid jet, which according to calculations should set things into motion quickly without undue risk. I think this is going to work.
Clone Log. Saturday, 12:14 a . m . Note to self: in future, make sure that the last words you use before combining volatile substances are not âI think this is going to work.â Side note: AGH is very effective at stimulating the regrowth of eyebrows.
Clone Log. Saturday, 8:15 a . m . Slept for roughly 3.2 hours. Am nowâ
âGood morning, Fisher! Youâre up early today.â Fisher leapt up from his keyboard, his eyes sliding rapidly over the collection of petri dishes and test tubes on his worktable before landing on his mother. She was holding a test tube, which sent a thin blue mist into the air, and she wore a sophisticated eyepiece over her right eye.
Fisher pushed away from his worktable, casually brushing a key that made his log blink off the screen.
âHi, Mom!â he said, plastering a broad, innocent grin across his face. âHow did you sleep?â
She frowned slightly, and set down her test tube on Fisherâs lab station. He tensed as she walked toward him. He forced himself to keep smiling.
âFisher, I can see through that idiotic grin on your face, so you might as well drop the act. Donât think I donât understand whatâs going on.â
Fisherâs heart began thumping in his throat. It felt like he had swallowed a bullfrog. Had she checked the levels of
Icy panic shot up Fisherâs back. For a moment, time seemed to stop. The canister pinwheeled, plummeting to the ground. His eyes followed the path of the falling canister, helplessly, until it struck the hard steel floor.
And bounced.
Fisher exhaled. Of course! It was plastic. His mom was far too smart to keep an important chemical in a container made of glass.
Fisher slipped a sealable test tube out of his sockâhe always had one there, just in caseâconnected it to the small built-in port on the canisterâs seal, and eased out a bit of the advanced AGH. He quickly replaced the canister, made sure that he had not disturbed anything else in the room, and slipped out again.
The first part of Mission: Fisher Bas Number Two had been a success. Fisher allowed himself a small smile. Not even space hero (and scoundrel) Vic Daring could have done it better.
An hour later, FP lay on the floor, slowly chomping his way through a green apple, as Fisher began the process of re-creating the Accelerated Growth Hormone in his room. He had put on his white lab coat, custom-tailored to his small frame, and his gloves and goggles. A variety of laboratory supplies and materials mingled with boxes of cookies and bags of barbecue-flavored potato chips on his lab table. He had three days to make this experiment a success.
Fisher cracked his knuckles and began his work.
Clone Log. Friday, 7:00 p . m . The first stage of the process will be to establish a proper balance of the AGH, cellular tissue, and other substances to begin rapid cell division. Also, to keep a small, hungry pig with the power of flight away from my snacks. Constant vigilance will be required!
Clone Log. Friday, 7:40 p . m . Am leaving chemicals to stew while joining parents at dinner table. Have a cover story prepared in the event of fire, explosion, or fiery explosion.
Clone Log. Friday, 8:25 p . m . Have been experimenting with different chemical combinations. Have not as yet found the correct quantities. Now taking necessary pause for recalibration. And Babylon 5 reruns.
Clone Log. Friday, 11:46 p . m . Balance may be properly achieved with a rapid jet of oxygen to help set the process in motion. However, volatility of oxygen is causing some possible flammability issues. Small flames causing set backs. Hope Mom wonât notice the smoke damage. Also: running low on ginger ale.
Clone Log. Saturday, 12:13 a . m . After many oxygen-jet trials, am increasing to higher levels in a more rapid jet, which according to calculations should set things into motion quickly without undue risk. I think this is going to work.
Clone Log. Saturday, 12:14 a . m . Note to self: in future, make sure that the last words you use before combining volatile substances are not âI think this is going to work.â Side note: AGH is very effective at stimulating the regrowth of eyebrows.
Clone Log. Saturday, 8:15 a . m . Slept for roughly 3.2 hours. Am nowâ
âGood morning, Fisher! Youâre up early today.â Fisher leapt up from his keyboard, his eyes sliding rapidly over the collection of petri dishes and test tubes on his worktable before landing on his mother. She was holding a test tube, which sent a thin blue mist into the air, and she wore a sophisticated eyepiece over her right eye.
Fisher pushed away from his worktable, casually brushing a key that made his log blink off the screen.
âHi, Mom!â he said, plastering a broad, innocent grin across his face. âHow did you sleep?â
She frowned slightly, and set down her test tube on Fisherâs lab station. He tensed as she walked toward him. He forced himself to keep smiling.
âFisher, I can see through that idiotic grin on your face, so you might as well drop the act. Donât think I donât understand whatâs going on.â
Fisherâs heart began thumping in his throat. It felt like he had swallowed a bullfrog. Had she checked the levels of
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