alexicography

/THrīv/ verb

1. (of a child, animal, or plant) grow or develop well or vigorously.
2. prosper; flourish.

Leila saw red.

No, really. Like red red.

The red flashing light that signaled the test had failed, malfunctioned somehow, errored out.

“Damn it!” her colleague, Joseph, slammed his fists down to the desk in front of the console, where the red flashing light emanated from. “Damn it damn it just damn it all!”

Kia tutted at him. “Joseph, is that really necessary?”

Leila chimed in, “Yea, language! There are children around.”

Joseph sneered at her joke, and Leila didn't take offense. She'd said it purposefully, to get a rise out of him. She knew how he felt about their work, the research they'd been tasked with.

“Yes, I'd say that was a completely appropriate reaction under these circumstances,” he said haughtily, speaking deliberately in Kia's direction. Behind his back, Leila mimicked swooning dramatically, and glowed when she saw Kia's eyebrow twitch. Kia was probably the most diplomatic of the three of them, the neutral party to their shenanigans (well, Leila's shenanigans) so she had honed the art of masking her emotions from her face. If she'd actually outwardly smiled or laughed, then, and only then, Leila would have worried that something was wrong.

Joseph monologued on, determined. “We've been at it for three nights now — three nights — and we were at the point of a breakthrough if it had just gone a few more hours. We could have gone home! But now the subject's contaminated this entire set of data, and the past three nights have been for what? I swear, if Corporate thinks this is so important, then why the hell can't someone else do it?”

Leila gasped dramatically to rile him up again. “Someone else? Oh but Joe, don't you want all the credit, all the glory when the results get back to Corporate? You're always moping about lack of visibility.”

Kia was attempting some kind of signal with her eyes that Leila couldn't interpret. But when Joseph turned and wheeled on her, his face nearly the same shade as the source of his outrage (maybe original source was more accurate, considering), Kia flat out mouthed NOT GOOD to Leila, and Leila caught on that she should have stopped back when she mentioned 'children'. Too late now.

“Visibility? Visibility? I don't know, Leila Vidal, does visibility matter to me? Did I spend twelve years doing post-graduate work on a thesis that Nature called 'visionary' in order to spend my career running grunt-level experiments at your mother's company? With a girl—” Leila winced. “—who waltzed into the same grunt-level role without a publication to her name, simply because the last name on her resume matched the one above the entrance to this building?”

With all her stupidity walking right into this tirade, Leila knew this time to keep her mouth shut, even though she desperately wanted to point out that A) he was butchering her last name — just because the name of the company sounded like “Vital” with a 'd' did not mean that was how to pronounce her actual name, and B) it was her step-mother's company. For all the DNA the thousands of employees handled at VIDAL, Leila didn't actually share any with its founder, Luisa Bonet Vidal.

Kia had walked over and placed her hand on his shoulder, as if her touch could imbue a sense of calm back into his person. “I think she gets it, Joseph.”

The women stayed silent as they watched him breathe deeply, centering himself. He opened his eyes just as a flash of red blinked at them again. The alert. Alert.

Alert.

Briskly, he strode back to the console from Leila and Kia, and typed in a command at his station to acknowledge to the system that they received the alert. It stopped mid-flash.

Joseph turned back to his colleagues, his composure regained. “I'm going to use the restroom, and then call Jason to not expect me home for dinner. When I get back, everything better be set up so that we can get started. Again.” He walked past them to the floor-to-ceiling panel at the back of the lab, swiped his badge, then when prompted, precisely sounded out the word, “Rest-room” to the monitor. The panel slide into the wall and he stepped out without another word. It slid back into place after him.

Leila loudly let out a huge breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding in. Kia stayed silent.

They started to speak at the same time, cutting each other off.

“That was—”

“You didn't—”

Leila broke the resumed silence with a wave of her arm. “Go on, lecture me. I know you want to.”

Kia shook her head. “You didn't need to make him go off like that. I had it handled.”

“The fact that the guy can't take one joke makes me think otherwise.”

“You know he's not usually this...aggressive. But it has been three nights, Lei, and you can't blame him for getting testy going on night four.”

“I don't see you flying off the handle at one red light,” Leila observed.

“That's because I don't fly off the handle,” Kia countered. “I got that shit beat outta me long before I started working here.”

“Whatever,” Leila mumbled begrudgingly.

“Let's start setting it all back up,” Kia said, and then her tone brightened. “At least talking with Jason should put him in a better mood. We've both seen how much happier Joseph is when they're together.”

“Yea, J.J. makes quite a pair.” In truth, Leila liked Jason. But she didn't like to admit she was fond of anything or anyone that Joseph also cared for. She didn't want that much in common with him. This job was enough.

She picked herself up out of her chair and shook the last couple minutes off. With some hesitance, she looked directly at the large, thick glass window at the back of the lab, where through it, the subject sat. A small child, sitting cross legged, facing directly back at her. He blinked.

She knew he couldn't see through the one-way glass, couldn't hear through the soundproofed walls. Yet still, she couldn't shake the feeling that he saw her too. Saw the whole outburst from Joseph.

Underneath it all, she had a feeling that he'd failed the test on purpose.

Why?

Because she'd told him to.