5:30 PM or 17:30 Military time
May 15, 2011 15:52:27 GMT -5
Post by Helena on May 15, 2011 15:52:27 GMT -5
Helena Amsel sat in her small lab room. All the walls were white and bright lights hung from the ceiling. One whole wall was covered with shelves brimming with books. A door to her left was closed. Just outside the door the hallways were vacant, everyone else was eating a dinner in the buildings small cafeteria before they went back to working into the night. Most didn't have to keep working but some chose to.
Helena was surrounded by textbooks, pencils, and sheets of paper. She was glaring down at a mixture of Punnett Squares and sketches of grotesque animals. She let her head rest against the stub of her wrist that had no hand. She chewed on the eraser of her pencil. Helena abruptly got up and locked her door. She needed privacy.
Helena felt like she had to make at least on combination of animals that were serve as a good mutation. She tore out the page from her notebook covered with failed possibilities. She pulled her books closer, one with notes on all the animals in Panem and one with information on past mutations. How was she supposed to think of something as good as those mutations in her books?
Helena stalked over to a shelf and tried to find something that might help her. Maybe a biography of a famous mutation maker or a lengthy book on the process of making mutations. Helena reached out to take a promising book. Unconsciously, she reached for it with her handless arm. She clumsily bumped it. She sighed heavily as she remembered her missing appendage.
When Helena was five she was in a lab with her father when the whole building exploded. Her father died and Helena lost her hand. Conspiracy theories swam around for months and Helena often gets taunted because of her loss.
Helena sighed and grabbed it with her normal hand. She went back to her seat and slumped down. The book was full of interviews with mutation makers and geneticists. As she kept reading images of past mutations and ideas she had bubbled in her head.
Helena was surrounded by textbooks, pencils, and sheets of paper. She was glaring down at a mixture of Punnett Squares and sketches of grotesque animals. She let her head rest against the stub of her wrist that had no hand. She chewed on the eraser of her pencil. Helena abruptly got up and locked her door. She needed privacy.
Helena felt like she had to make at least on combination of animals that were serve as a good mutation. She tore out the page from her notebook covered with failed possibilities. She pulled her books closer, one with notes on all the animals in Panem and one with information on past mutations. How was she supposed to think of something as good as those mutations in her books?
Helena stalked over to a shelf and tried to find something that might help her. Maybe a biography of a famous mutation maker or a lengthy book on the process of making mutations. Helena reached out to take a promising book. Unconsciously, she reached for it with her handless arm. She clumsily bumped it. She sighed heavily as she remembered her missing appendage.
When Helena was five she was in a lab with her father when the whole building exploded. Her father died and Helena lost her hand. Conspiracy theories swam around for months and Helena often gets taunted because of her loss.
Helena sighed and grabbed it with her normal hand. She went back to her seat and slumped down. The book was full of interviews with mutation makers and geneticists. As she kept reading images of past mutations and ideas she had bubbled in her head.
