Sacrifices

I have always been a champion of scientific progress. 

Granted, my original reason for choosing this path in my teenage years had nothing to do with changing the world, at least not in a positive way. I just liked the power that came with the possibilities of scientific discoveries. 

I romanticised science fiction that quickly turned into horror, and I was always supporting the 'wrong' side because they pushed the boundaries of nature. For instance, I loved seeing movies about splicing, mutations and general genetic f*ck-ups. 

In the long run, I did not pursue that direction in my career. 

I want to say it was because I discovered that it was wrong to fantasise about creating a virus that would destroy most of the world population. Or the people of Earth would pay me a lot of money not to turn it into a scene from a zombie apocalypse TV show that should be cancelled…

The truth is that I am too impatient and restless to focus long enough to make actual progress in bringing about the end of the world. Real scientific work is tedious for a mind that does not stop racing. 

I found it boring and bid adieu to practical research, and consequently, my dream of becoming a supervillain. 

However, I never abandoned my love for information and ended up taking up secondary research. It was more exciting to me, despite the fact that it is called desk research and does not involve contact with lab equipment. 

It allows me to spend the day doing what I love most: reading. 

The only issue that I have experienced with this line of work is turning it off. If reading is both a job and a hobby, it can be challenging to maintain any semblance of a life-work balance. After all, every word is just another idea for a report. 

When I tried to read something that would take me far from work, I ended up digging a hole for myself by indulging in conspiracy theories. 

So, here I was, facing an actual villain.

"Of course, every scientific research demands some sacrifices. If it were that easy, everyone would be changing the world. Would you not agree with that?" The Alchemist asked with the look of someone who was out of touch with the world. 

I nodded calmly. 

"I agree. Most people are unaware of the cost of everything we know at the moment. It is easier to sanitise it into cold, hard facts instead of acknowledging the sacrifices that went into the discoveries."

"For example, the man known as the 'father of gastric physiology', William Beaumont, conducted experiments through a hole in the stomach of a gunshot victim, Alexis St Martin. He literally tied pieces of food and hung them inside the open wound, just to observe what happens when food is in the stomach."

"In order to study Alexis, William hired him as a servant, but his role was to be a lab rat without autonomy. When Alexis ran away from his horrible life, William had him captured and brought him back to continue torturing him."

"Do you think that it is worthwhile to place the price of discovery on fellow human beings?"

The Alchemist's face became stiff as he looked back at me silently. His face was like a pasty mask, his large eyes looking back at me like a haunted doll. It was a little disconcerting to see him looking like the Annabelle doll. 

"That is nothing like the lab I am funding," He retorted. 

"Isn't it?" I countered. "If you are genuinely interested in fertility technology, you should have heard of Ilya Ivanovich Ivanov, who attempted to create a humanzee, a hybrid of humans and chimpanzees. And he is not the only one who tried it."

"Everyone thinks that human-hybrid experiments have only occurred in movies, books and anime. In reality, there have been horrible things done in the name of science by people who seem to think all is permissible as long as knowledge is obtained." 

The Alchemist hit his clenched fist on the reinforced glass desk. There was no sound naturally, but it must have hurt a little. However, he did not seem to care about it. His face showed pure anger. 

"How can you compare me to barbarians?" He raised his voice at me, practically trembling with anger. 

My face became colder as I looked at him. 

"I think you are worse because all those scientists had the courage to look at their victims in the eyes. They felt righteous and firm in their evil that they did atrocious things while they stared at the pain in their subjects' eyes."

"You, on the other hand, are in this glass tower that speaks of cleanliness and purity. Yet, you know the dark corners where your money has reached and destroyed lives. You pretend not to know exactly what you have done."

The Alchemist became even more furious. 

"I do not support unethical practices. I only provide funds for people to accomplish their visions," He said.

"But you do," I replied. "You cannot possibly believe yourself when you claim that you are not involved. I am not only talking about the fact that you provide funds and resources. I am saying that you are not a trusting person."

"With your meticulous personality, I would be hard-pressed to believe that you do not know exactly where your investments go. You are too smart to allow anyone to risk your name. You might be bold, but you are not trusting."

The Alchemist just stared me down, but it seemed like he was sulking, more than threatening me. 

I sighed with some exasperation.

"Do you really want to know why the Kingmaker wanted to meet with me?" I asked. 

I knew I would not get anywhere with this powerful man, who was nothing more than a petulant child with too much money. He believed he was right and without blame. I would not be able to get to him without making some compromises. 

The Alchemist perked up as if I had promised him candy. 

"Why?"

I smiled a little. 

"As I told you, I do not know any of his secrets. His interest in me is indeed because I am a great conversationalist. But more than that, I am something of a prophet. I make pretty wild but often accurate speculations about people and situations." 

The Alchemist frowned. "I thought you were ready to be serious."

"The Kingmaker and I played a game. If I could name it, it would be called 'Wicked Intentions'. It is a game where I guess evil plans by thinking like a villain. You can give me wrong or right prompts." I continued without acknowledging his words. 

"In a perfect game, each round would end up with the real villain showing the card with the truth about their actual plan. I would win if I guessed correctly. In real life, it is more complicated because I have no way to determine if you will tell me the truth."

I lifted a brow in challenge. 

"Would you like to play?"