Page 6 of Stripe Theory

Her phone buzzed almost instantly with Nellie’s reply:Consider it done. Should we warn the fire department?

Better safe than sorry, Gerri typed back, grinning.But tell them it’s just a precaution. I’m sure nothing will explode this time.

She started her car, humming the wedding march with a few improvisational flourishes. After all, when you’re planning the match of the century between a tiger-shifter CEO and a brilliant but chaotic scientist, a little dramatic background music is practically required.

“Let the games begin,” she announced to her rearview mirror, and drove away plotting her next matchmaking triumph. Behind her, a tiny puff of dragon smoke rose from the plaza’s chimney as if the very building was sighing contentedly at another successful love story in the making.

In her purse, her phone buzzed one final time. A message from Lumina:Just talked to Alora. She’s definitely coming to the gala. Says she wouldn’t miss the tiger conservation exhibit for anything. Should we warn her about Rehan?

Gerri’s laugh echoed through the car as she dictated her response:Absolutely not. Some things are better left to fate... and professional matchmakers. Besides, what’s the worst that could happen?

She paused, considering the combination of a strict tiger shifter and a scientist who gave her cat business cards, then added:On second thought, don’t answer that. Just make sure we have good insurance coverage.

ONE

The opening bars of “Eye of the Tiger” blasted through hidden speakers, making Alora Sky’s hi-tech lab feel more like a dance club than a research facility. She bobbed her head in time with the music, copper-streaked brown hair bouncing free from its messy bun as she adjusted her microscope. The song might lack subtlety, but subtlety had never made anyone’s scientific breakthrough playlist.

“Come on, come on,” she muttered, tweaking the focus. Her tiger-striped lab coat – a gift from her sisters that she refused to apologize for – swished against the gleaming lab bench. The late afternoon sun streaming through floor-to-ceiling windows caught the holographic patches decorating her coat: prancing tigers, scientific formulas, and her personal favorite, a cartoon tiger wearing glasses over the phrase “Science is Purr-fect.”

Her cat that she named Stripes sprawled across a stack of research papers on her desk, one paw dangling precisely over the edge to bat at passing lab techs. His golden eyes tracked her movements with that particular feline mix of adoration and judgment.

“Don’t give me that look,” Alora told him, adjusting the microscope’s digital display. “Some of us have to work for a living instead of lounging around judging people’s life choices.”

The microscope’s screen flickered to life, and Alora’s breath caught. There, in vivid high-definition, the viral protein structure shifted exactly as she’d predicted. Months of theoretical work, countless failed trials, and enough coffee to float a small yacht had led to this moment.

“Yes!” She spun in her chair, arms raised in triumph, nearly colliding with a precariously balanced tower of papers. “Stripes! Look at this! The viral mutation is following the exact pattern I – oh my god, are those my grant proposals?” She lunged to steady the wavering stack. “Why are these still here? Biogenetics approved the funding. We can recycle these now. Well, after I dance.”

She twirled across the lab, her movements setting off the motion-sensitive lights in a cascade of illumination. Her lab might look chaotic to outsiders, but every tiger-striped sticky note and color-coded file had its place in her system. The walls bore testament to her organizational philosophy: alongside serious research posters about genetic manipulation hung signs reading “Think Outside the Cage” and “Pawsitively Brilliant Research Happens Here.”

“Doctor Sky?” A hesitant voice came from the doorway. One of her grad students, Kevin, stood clutching a tablet and looking concerned. “Are you... okay?”

“Kevin! Perfect timing.” Alora grabbed his arm and spun him in a circle. “The protein structure responded. We were right.”

“That’s... great?” Kevin adjusted his glasses, trying to keep up with both the spinning and the conversation. “Does this mean I can stop coming in at 3 AM to check the cultures?”

“No, now you’ll come in at 3 AM with purpose!” She released him and bounded to her computer station. “Look atthese results. The virus isn’t just blocking the shift anymore – it’s actually rewiring the genetic markers that control transformation. But if we can interrupt the protein binding sequence...” She trailed off, noticing Kevin’s glazed expression. “Too much?”

“Maybe a little? I haven’t had lunch yet.”

“Lunch! Food! Yes, humans need that.” She shooed him toward the door. “Go eat. But come back ready to science.”

“You haven’t eaten either, have you?” Kevin asked, already knowing the answer.

“I had...” Alora glanced at her desk where a half-eaten protein bar lay forgotten next to Stripes. “...intentions of eating.”

Her tablet chimed with an incoming video call, her mother’s elegant features filling the screen. Even through the digital display, Dr. Lumina Voss-Sky radiated the quiet authority that had made her one of Britain’s top genetic researchers.

“Darling! I was just thinking of you. How’s the – why are you dancing?”

“Mom!” Alora exclaimed, dropping into her chair and sending it rolling across the lab. She pushed off against a cabinet to roll back to her desk. “The most amazing thing just happened. The viral protein structure responded exactly like I hypothesized. We’re finally getting somewhere.”

Her mother’s stern expression melted into pride. “That’s wonderful! And perfect timing, considering your new funding.”

“I still can’t believe Biogenetics is backing my research.” Alora hugged herself, barely containing her excitement. She spun in her chair again, this time narrowly missing Stripes, who gave her a look of feline disdain. “Do you know how many experiments I can run now? How many trials we can fund? This could change everything for affected shifters.”

“You earned it, sweetheart.” Her mother’s smile turned knowing. “Though I won’t deny having Jewel Kedi in mygraduate program years ago helped get your proposal in front of the right eyes.” She paused meaningfully. “You’ll be working with her son, Rehan. He’s... quite intense, from what I hear.”

TWO

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