Episode Two: “The Lab Partner Event”
The first sign of trouble came at 9:03 a.m., when Sammi entered Biology Lab 204 carrying a notebook, three pens, and a completely unreasonable amount of hope.
Inside Human Life Works, everything had been normal-ish.
Captain Hem O’Globin was moving oxygen parcels through the bloodstream.
Kidney Kate was inspecting fluids with a small silver whistle.
Gus Gastric was still grumbling about the previous night’s nachos.
And in Head Office, Professor Hypothal Amus had just poured tea.
Then Sammi looked across the lab bench.
Eriko was there.
Black hair tucked behind one ear. History-major cardigan. Calm hands. Serious eyes. Already reading the lab handout as if it were a fragment of lost Byzantine tax law.
Sammi’s brain produced one single official message:
OH NO SHE’S BEAUTIFUL.
Unfortunately, the message was sent to every department.
The Heart Engine Room
Deep in the chest, Forewoman Valentina Valve looked up as every pressure gauge began twitching.
“Why are we accelerating?”
A junior valve-worker checked the incoming memo.
“Head Office says: Eriko smiled slightly while adjusting microscope.”
Valentina blinked.
“That’s it?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“That is not an emergency.”
Another gauge shot upward.
The Heart Engine Room began pounding like a factory drumline.
Valentina grabbed the speaking tube.
“Head Office, explain this!”
Professor Hypothal Amus’s voice came back faintly:
“Possible affection event. Possible admiration event. Possible catastrophic longing. Please increase circulation to cheeks.”
Valentina sighed.
“Cheeks again? Fine. Send the blush crew.”
The Cheek District
In the Cheek District, two rosy municipal painters named Blushina and Rougebert slid down ladders with buckets.
“Where are we painting?” cried Blushina.
“Face! Emergency warmth pattern!”
Rougebert squinted at the work order.
“Reason?”
Blushina read aloud:
“Eriko asked if Sammi wanted to share a slide.”
The entire crew paused.
Rougebert whispered, “That’s adorable.”
“Less commentary, more capillaries!” shouted the district manager.
Within seconds, Sammi’s face warmed.
Outside, Eriko glanced up.
“Are you okay? You look a little flushed.”
Inside the factory, every worker froze.
Head Office screamed:
SHE NOTICED.
The Stomach Department
Down in the Stomach Receiving Hall, Gus Gastric had been enjoying a rare quiet morning.
Then the Butterflies arrived.
Not metaphorical butterflies. Actual tiny courier creatures with clipboard wings and sparkly boots, released by the Mood & Anticipation Office.
They burst through the service entrance in a flurry.
Gus stood up.
“No. Absolutely not. I run a digestion department, not a conservatory.”
A butterfly landed on his nose.
“Message from Emotional Forecasting!”
Gus snatched the note.
Deploy fluttering sensation. Subject: Eriko’s sleeve brushed Sammi’s hand while reaching for pipette.
Gus went pale.
“Her sleeve?”
“Her sleeve.”
“Did actual skin contact occur?”
“Unconfirmed, but spiritually significant.”
The butterflies began swirling.
Gus looked toward the acid vats.
“Everybody secure the breakfast toast. We’re in a crush scenario.”
Head Office Panic
In Head Office, the desks were chaos.
Professor Hypothal Amus tried to maintain order while Dora Dopamine, a bright-eyed messenger with roller skates, zipped between departments tossing glittering reward slips into the air.
“She said Sammi’s sketch of the cell membrane was cute!” Dora shouted.
Professor Amus clutched the console.
“She said the sketch was cute or Sammi was cute?”
“Ambiguous!”
“That is the worst kind of cute!”
Across the room, Serotonin Sue attempted to calm everyone with herbal tea.
“Let’s remember,” she said, “this may simply be a pleasant social connection.”
Dora Dopamine slammed both hands on the desk.
“She has nice handwriting.”
Sue slowly put down the tea.
“Oh dear.”
The Hands Division
At the Fine Motor Control Works, the Hands Division received an impossible assignment:
Hold pipette gracefully while standing next to Eriko. Do not drop anything. Do not draw tiny hearts in lab notebook. Do not accidentally write ‘Mrs. Sammi-Eriko Mitochondria.’
The foreman, Mr. Dexter Palm, stared at the order.
“This is sabotage.”
Sammi reached for the pipette.
Eriko reached at the same time.
Their fingers almost touched.
In the Hands Division, alarms went off.
“Near-contact! Near-contact! Hold steady!”
Mr. Palm threw himself across the control panel.
“Do not tremble! I swear by all twenty-seven knuckles, do not tremble!”
Sammi successfully picked up the pipette.
The entire department cheered.
Then Eriko said, very quietly, “You have paint on your thumb.”
The cheering stopped.
Sammi looked down.
There was indeed a little blue paint near her thumbnail from studio class.
Eriko smiled.
“It’s nice.”
Inside the Hands Division, three workers fainted.
The Language Office
The Speech Bureau was perhaps the worst-hit.
A simple sentence was required.
Sammi wanted to say:
“That’s from my painting class. I’m doing a study of medieval lapis pigment trade networks.”
A reasonable sentence. A good sentence. An art-history-major sentence.
But the Language Office had received conflicting instructions from several departments:
Heart: Speak warmly.
Dopamine: Sound charming.
Anxiety: Abort! Abort!
Aesthetic Identity Department: Mention lapis lazuli. It is cool.
Crush Department: Maybe ask if Eriko likes museums.
Fear Department: Never speak again.
The final sentence emerged as:
“Blue old rocks make pretty church paint.”
There was silence.
Inside the Speech Bureau, the director removed her glasses.
“We are all fired.”
But Eriko tilted her head.
“Lapis lazuli?”
Sammi blinked.
“Yes! Yes. That. Exactly that.”
Eriko’s eyes brightened.
“I read about that in a paper on Venetian devotional panels.”
Every factory department received the same emergency bulletin:
SHE KNOWS ABOUT LAPIS. REPEAT: SHE KNOWS ABOUT LAPIS.
The Immune Security Office Gets Involved For No Reason
Sergeant Histamine kicked open the door of Head Office.
“Are we under attack?”
“No,” said Professor Amus.
“Why is the heart elevated?”
“Crush.”
“Ah.” Histamine narrowed his eyes. “Foreign agent?”
“No. Lab partner.”
“Still suspicious.”
“Go away.”
Histamine sniffed the air.
“Any pollen?”
“No.”
“Dust?”
“No.”
“Emotional vulnerability?”
Professor Amus paused.
“Yes.”
Histamine drew his tiny sword.
“I knew it.”
The Eye Department
Meanwhile, the Eye Department had its own crisis.
Sammi’s eyes kept trying to look at Eriko.
Head Office had issued restraint orders:
Do not stare. Glance naturally. Observe microscope. Observe lab manual. Observe anything else.
But the Eye Department had formed an unauthorized Eriko Appreciation Committee.
“Look at her notes,” said one eye-worker.
“Look at her eyelashes,” said another.
“Look at how seriously she labels bacterial cultures.”
“That is attractive.”
“That is historically attractive.”
The supervisor banged a ruler on the rail.
“Professionalism! We are in biology lab!”
Below, Sammi tried to focus on the slide.
Eriko leaned closer to look through the microscope.
Their shoulders nearly touched.
The Eye Department filed a formal complaint titled:
This Is Too Much For Us But Also Please Continue.
Liver Refinery: The Adult in the Room
In the Liver Refinery, Livinia Liverwright reviewed the chemical reports with serene authority.
“Elevated adrenaline. Increased dopamine. Cortisol flickers. Blush activity. Appetite uncertain.”
Her assistant Edwin looked worried.
“Is it dangerous?”
Livinia smiled faintly.
“No. It is the body discovering that another person has become chemically meaningful.”
“Should we neutralize it?”
“Absolutely not.”
“But the system is unstable.”
“Most beautiful things are, Edwin.”
She stamped the file:
PROCESS GENTLY. DO NOT CYNICALLY DISMANTLE.
The Moment
Near the end of lab, Eriko looked over Sammi’s drawing of a cell.
“You’re really good at this,” she said.
Sammi’s body-factory went utterly silent.
No alarms.
No whistles.
No panicked valve crews.
Just a warm golden hum moving from Head Office through the Heart Engine Room, down past the Stomach Butterflies, across the Hands Division, through every tiny worker in Human Life Works.
Sammi smiled.
“Thanks. I could help you with the diagrams sometime.”
Eriko’s own smile was small, but unmistakably real.
“I’d like that.”
Inside the factory, Dora Dopamine climbed onto a desk, raised both arms, and shouted:
“WE HAVE A FUTURE EVENT!”
The workers erupted.
Captain Hem O’Globin waved his hat.
The blush painters danced.
The Butterflies formed a union.
Gus Gastric pretended he was annoyed, but secretly ordered celebratory tea.
Professor Hypothal Amus updated the official factory status board:
Condition: Mad silly intense crush
Risk level: High tenderness
Recommended action: Continue proximity. Maintain dignity where possible.
Dignity forecast: Poor.
And somewhere deep in Sammi’s chest, the Heart Engine Room kept thumping a little faster than necessary, because Eriko had said yes to diagrams, and sometimes the body knows before the mind admits it:
This wasn’t just biology lab.
This was the beginning of a whole new department.
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