I’m alone in the kitchenette where the coffee machine is, and where the excessive amounts of creamer are. I blend in so well here. I look so pedestrian. So basic. This building is full of intellectual powers and compared to them I am basically the same level of intellect as the bench in front of me.
But none of that is about to matter. I’ve never been that much of a chemist, but any old idiot can take a vial from the set of vials markedDo Not Touch, and put it in her pocket. And then she can go find another vial markedSeriously, Don’t Fucking Touch This, and pocket that, too.
And then any old silly-billy can be asked to make coffee for the boss’ boss, and accidentally on purpose tip that shit in.
And then almost any absolutely deranged lunatic can sprinkle a little ground-up cat hair in the mix.
The bar for this whole plot is really very low. The hardest thing is knowing where to get the secret vials markedDo Not Touch, and I have the advantage there because that’s how Simon marks the vials in his secret fridge. The only thing I don’t really know is if ground-up cat hair will do anything, or if I have to follow the whole complicated gene extraction thing that they do when they do this properly. That involves a lot of equipment and gas burners and glass swirly things that I don’t have time to use.
Having spiked Veronica’s coffee with a large dose of transformational juice, I pause for a moment and wonder if this is who I want to be. I might be on the precipice of doingsomething absolutely unforgivable. Or making history. One thing is for sure, I’m never going to be seen as an easy victim again.
“What took you so long?”
I carry the cup into her office with a slightly shaking hand, only to be met with a harsh barking demand that immediately makes me very glad I interfered with it.
I put the coffee down in front of her. She peers down at it with an expression I can only register as annoyed.
For a second, I am terrified that Veronica is suspicious because she knows my secret and my whole plan and I am not only going to get fired, but probably arrested for trying to poison her.
“Sorry,” I say. “It looked a little stale, so I made a fresh pot, and I had to go and get more filters, because the machine was out, so then…”
“I don’t need your life story,” she snaps, impatient, all that earlier charm completely evaporated. She is full mask off now, and she clearly does not care what I think.
I try not to stare at the drink, even though I’m willing her to get it down her. Sometimes I make coffees or cups of tea at home and they do nothing but get cold. If she gets distracted, if a phone call comes in, if…
She drinks the coffee.
I watch as she takes a sip, then makes a face, as if there’s some way coffee can be bad. It’s the most homogeneously unpleasant drink I have ever tried, but people insist that there’s good bitter nasty water vs bad bitter nasty water. Whatever makes them happy, I guess.
“Not good?”
“It’s fine,” she says. “Adequate.”
“You want less creamer next time?”
“I’ll let you know what I want, and when I want it,” she says. “For now, you can get to work color coding my filing cabinet.”
I am stalling, obviously. I don’t want to leave her alone. I want to see what happens next. I might need to do something about it. Or I might have to call an ambulance. I guess we’ll see.
“You want me to do your filing now?”
“Right now!” she says. But the last word of her order sounds just a little likemeow.
“As in this second?” I ask the clarifying question to take up a little more time.
She makes a very irritated sound. Kind of like a hiss.
Oh, my god.
Watching people melt never gets old. First, Veronica’s face sort of… softens. Then it droops, then it gets small. Really, really small. Then all of her clothes are very big and a white fluffy cat is sitting on her chair making a hell of a racket.
“Oh, my god, it worked!” I gasp.
Cat Veronica swipes at me.
“Easy!” I say. “There’s no need to worry. This is very, very safe. Nothing bad is going to happen to you. I’m going to take very good care of you.”
Her back arches, her fangs extend. She makes a grand show of batting and swatting at me with both paws.