Page 33 of Dark Awakening

"Oh, just great. My daughter started kindergarten this year and loves it," Tony beams.

I thanked him for the update and made time for a quick catch-up before continuing to the elevator. As I anticipate the day ahead, my heels click rhythmically across the shiny marble floors.

The elevator opens with a ding, and the familiar sterile scent of the research wing tickles my nose. I stride down the hall purposefully, lab coat swishing, heels clicking out my determination.

Bursting into my private lab, I'm hit with a thrill of scientific possibility tinged with anxiety.

That strange tingling warmth in my fingertips lingers in my mind, the flickering glow I thought I saw… A trick of my exhausted brain? Or a portent of something more?

I take a grounding breath, smoothing my coat. As a woman of science, I deal with facts, data, and evidence. Yet...years in the lab have taught me the universe holds more mysteries than our limited minds can grasp. There are more things in heaven and earth than rationality can dream of.

For now, I shake off the speculation and get down to business, meticulously preparing my equipment and supplies. The routine soothes my racing mind. When everything is ready, I take a steadying breath and tie the tourniquet around my arm. I've done this countless times before, but today, it feels momentous. Watching the crimson liquid fill the vial, I can't help but contemplate the significance of this seemingly simple act. This vital fluid, imbued with the essence of my being, could be the key to unlocking extraordinary secrets.

I release a breath as the needle withdraws, leaving a single scarlet droplet behind. As I dab it away, I'm struck by the reality that our lives depend on the constancy of blood's ebb and flow. I now revere the vial, carefully labeling it before beginning the separation process. Each step takes me closer to illuminating the mysteries that may be inscribed within my genetic code.

The PCR reactions amplify the key sections, generating multitudes of copies for analysis. I'm meticulous in my documentation, preserving a record of my journey's progress.

Soon, the agarose gel is prepared, and it's time for electrophoresis to work its magic, separating fragments by size. My pulse quickens as the viewing box illuminates, the fluorescent bands sparking a cascade of questions. Do they contain the answers I seek? Or bring up new enigmas to unravel?

I photograph every detail, preserving the images digitally before preparing DNA samples for sequencing—anticipation mounts as the machine hums, parsing through the As, Ts, Cs, and Gs. I pace the floor, contemplating where this sequence of information will lead. Once complete, the data will be analyzed and compared against global genomic databases. This biological source code could encode the answers to my burning questions.

What will the results reveal?

For today, I content myself with anticipation's electric hum as the sequencer delves further into my essence. There is power in this waiting period, a calm before the storm of revelation. I embrace the mystery a while longer, trusting that soon, insights will come.

Time seems suspended as I pore over the data, my focus absolute. After an agonizing wait, the analysis is completed, and I'm stunned by what appears.

An alien double helix glows on the screen, two intertwined snakes flouting expectations. It radiates a mischievous charm, screaming, "I'm special!" without confirmation.

My heart hammers as implications flood my mind. What does this mean? What the hell am I? Half human, half… freak?!

This is no mere manifestation of the werewolf genome, of which I am certain. No, the sequence variants I see here in my DNA denote something else entirely, some unique anomaly as yet unidentified.

Finally, peeking at the clock, I notice the time, spurring me to secure my materials and head to the cafeteria for a recharging lunch.

My heels click sharply down the empty hallway, my thoughts churning relentlessly with each step. I hardly notice the familiar route to the cafeteria, too preoccupied with processing the earth-shattering revelations.

Sliding my tray along the metal rails, I grab a sandwich and drink out of habit, but my appetite is nonexistent. My stomach is a ball of anxious knots.

Settling mechanically at a vacant table, I try to tune in to the mundane chatter of other researchers around me, seeking any distraction from the storm raging in my mind. But their voices fade into meaningless background noise as my gaze loses focus.

A tingle races down my spine. Has some latent force sparked to life inside my DNA? Am I still the same person, or has a metaphysical metamorphosis begun?

I ache to call Emily, to unburden myself of this luminous secret. Yet discretion stays my hand; best wait until the puzzle pieces cohere. No use stoking confusion with half-baked theories.

My mind churns, seeking equilibrium. Is this a blessing or a curse crouched in my DNA? The philosopher in me thrills at new frontiers of possibility. But the woman quakes at losing moorings thought solid and sure.

I force myself to bite my sandwich, barely tasting the food. My stomach roils with uncertainty.

I feel like young Alice following the White Rabbit into Wonderland, peering down the rabbit hole of paranormal potentialities. Such uncharted territory has no map or guidebook.

Yet I must believe this awakening is not random but bears meaning if I cultivate understanding.

My phone suddenly vibrates, and I grab it from my pocket. It's a text from an unknown number.

Unknown—“Are you still thinking about last night? I’m sure I can make tonight even better.” My pulse quickens, and I hesitate before responding, feigning ignorance.

Me— "Who's this?"

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