Alphas Prefer Curves

by Unknown

  “Seriously?” His tone indicates surprise.

  “What did you expect me to say?”

  “Oh, I don’t know, peanuts or potato chips.”

  “That’s too small-time for the likes of me. I have an addictive personality disorder.”

  I know better than to tell him that there’s a chemical explanation, it’s related to my dopamine levels. A discussion on neurotransmitters would probably kill the playful mood.

  “What are you addicted to?”

  “Learning, music, and food. Not always in that order.”

  “Then I think that’s enough for today,” he says. Boy does he appear happy with himself. “We don’t want you walking around with withdrawal symptoms, kissing perfect strangers.”

  I’m disappointed, but I’m not about to admit it. “You’re absolutely right. Thank you for the experiment, I appreciate the effort.”

  “Don’t mention it, the pleasure was all mine.”

  “See you around,” I say. I turn my back to him, and swim to shore. When I reach the landing, he’s swimming in the other direction, with perfect butterfly strokes. He has good shoulders, and a great back. Oh, a great ass too.

  I get out of the water, and give myself a mental slap. Stop looking, girl; take your stuff, and walk away to get dressed in privacy.

  ❦

  I reach the building feeling a lot fresher that when I left it and I’m feeling a tiny bit dreamy, too. Kissing’s nice.

  I smell coffee and my nose helps me find the room that serves as a refectory. It’s probably the same furniture that was here when the monks were running the place. There are three long wooden tables with attached benches, like a rest area in a public park. On one table, there’s a kind of buffet set up, and there’s a bunch of people sitting at the others.

  Agatha’s there already, keeping an empty space next to her; she signals me to help myself and come join her. I look at the selection. There’s coffee and tea. I pass, as I don’t drink hot beverages, even in the dead of winter. There’s Miso Soup, an interesting breakfast choice. There are also noodles with vegetables, white unidentifiable protein on little bamboo skewers covered with a sate sauce so pungent that I can’t tell if the protein is fish or chicken. Last, there’s sticky rice cooked in coconut milk, and an assortment of fresh fruits. I go for the safety of the sticky rice and fruits.

  I sit with Agatha, and eat my rice while she tells me about my job. It’s going to be lab work. Stuff that I can do in my sleep, she says, and, most of the time, it should only keep me busy for half the day. I get to pick if I want to work morning or afternoon, as long as I coordinate with the other technicians for the use of the lab space; different projects are being carried out in the facility. The rest of the time I’m my own person. I can ask her driver to take me to the city when she has no need for him, and I can do rounds and collect samples with her. I can go visit the temples, too. There’s tons of stuff to do.

  She rushes out with James today to go visit a Mong tribe up on the hills. They’ll be back in the evening.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  AFTER AGATHA LEAVES, I FIND the lab. It’s the largest room on the ground floor, and it has a big ceiling fan that circulates the air fast enough that, for an instant, the room almost seems fresher than the others.

  There are four working stations. A very soft-spoken Lao girl appears to be the person on duty. I can see her cringing when she looks at my red hair. Despite her obvious repulsion, she shows me where I should set up shop. Her name is Vieng Neun.

  Soon, the room gets busy. There are a couple of guys from Belgium who are working on mineral samples. I glance in their direction, and remember how much I dislike geology.

  Their English is limited, and the little French I speak is of no use: they are from the Flemmish-speaking side of the country. Those two won’t be a distraction.

  The same goes for the team from Japan. They appear to be studying water samples. Now that could be interesting except that I can’t communicate with them. Their English is rudimentary, and the only thing I know in Japanese is fish names I’ve learned in restaurants. Unless they discover a salmon or an eel in their sample, I won’t be able say a word to them.

  Two large refrigerators are available to store the sample works that need to be kept fresh. They are directly connected to their own generator, and I quickly understand why; the power dies thirty seconds after I turn on the microscope. The electricity supplied by the town is moody. My mind drifts back to the pond and the kiss, while I wait for the electricity to return.

  When it does, I can turn the microscope back on, and reach for Agatha’s samples. They are on the top shelve of one fridge. I recognize her handwriting on the collecting boxes. She’s meticulous, everything’s dated and numbered. Whoever I’m replacing has been gone a few weeks. There’s a lot of work to be done. I put on my headphones to tune out the conversations of my coworkers, and get to it.

  I get in one of those states where I just concentrate on what I’m doing, and pay no attention to time; I’m in autopilot mode. The job's tedious and repetitive, yet it requires concentration. It phases out everything else and I like that.

  My grandmother had a name for that type of occupation; she called it bubble gum for the brain. It’s quite appropriate since this type of work keeps the brain occupied without feeding it. For her it was crossword puzzles and solitaire, for me it’s lab work.

  The day flies away, and suddenly it’s 6PM. I’m done, and starving. I go back to the refectory and scout the buffet. It’s almost the same thing as this morning, except that the white unidentifiable stuff has been replaced by a dark meat. It’s beef or more likely water buffalo? I take the noodles and vegetables, and look for a place to sit. James is there with a bunch of gruff-looking guys who appear to be almost done with their meal. Their plates are piled up on the table. They are having a heated discussion about the merits of some European soccer teams. I slide onto the bench next to James.

  “Let me introduce you,” he says. The guys look in my direction for a second and nod as James gives me their names. “Liam, Patrick, Dylan, and Jack. They’re here to revive an old mine.” He then introduces me. “Agatha’s friend and assistant, Doctor Cooper.”

  I figure that if everybody else is on a first name basis, it should be the same with me, so I say, “The name’s Jade. Nice to meet you.”

  My name gets a smirk out of the four of them. I’m missing something; probably a dirty miner’s joke about the stuff that they wouldn’t feel comfortable sharing with me.

  “Has Oliver met her yet?” asks Patrick to James.

  James nods. I frown; I hate it when someone talks about me like I’m not in the room or can’t talk for myself.

  I’m about to say something, when Liam asks, “So what kind of doctor are you, Doctor Jade?”

  James answers for me. “She’s a biologist.”

  This is getting annoying!

  Patrick looks at me, and says, “So, you’re a lab person. You stay away from real life. A thinker, not a doer.”

  Now I’m pissed, and take offense at such an artificial vision of the work of a biologist. I snap back, “Some of us can think and do.”

  “Really?” His tone’s gone almost nasty. He sounds like I insulted him by telling him that I can think and do, while he can’t. The man’s got a chip on his shoulder. Or maybe not… maybe it’s me and I came on too strong.

  I’m about to apologize, when, looking at me with defiance, he asks “So, pray tell, Doctor Jade, what job did you have before you came here?”

  He’s testing me, and I will not be intimidated. That’s one of my major issues, I refuse to be intimidated, whatever the circumstances.

  “I participated in the creation of a DNA data base of all the different breeds of bulls that one can find on the American continent. We put together a bull sperm bank.”

  As I say the words “sperm bank” I see a smile spreading on his lips. He looks very pleased with himself, like he’s found something very c
lever to say.

  “Oh, right, you really are a doer. You got to do the bulls!”

  They all guffaw, James included. I can’t help but smile. It is funny, in a very immature sort of way. They are worse than kids. I shrug and decide to ignore them.

  But Patrick doesn’t let it go. He thinks he’s got me in a corner and he pushes. “Tell me, Doc, how did you do the bulls? How did you get them to donate their sperm?”

  “You don’t wanna know.” Really, he doesn’t. Few guys can hear about the collection procedure without shuddering.

  “Come on, you can tell us. We won’t judge. We know a gal’s gotta to do what a gal’s gotta do to get ahead in life.”

  “Well, if you insist,” I say, looking at my plate and forking a vegetable that looks like the longest string bean I’ve ever seen.

  “As you very well know, Patrick, to cause an ejaculation, you need stimulation.”

  I look up from my plate to see him nodding with a cocky grin. I pause to let him enjoy it before I wipe it away from his face.

  “Now, to provide the needed stimulation, all you need to do is to insert an electric probe in the rectum of the patient, and send an electrical stimulus at the right intensity.”

  I bite into the bean, and look down to my plate. There’s an eerie silence in the room; the five guys at my table have instinctively pressed their legs together. When I raise my eyes, Patrick has lost his smile.

  I finish chewing the bean, and gloat, “Now I’ve only done it on bulls, but I’m told the process can also be used on humans when they suffer from erectile dysfunction.”

  At my back, I hear a gasp and a very hearty laugh.

  I turn around to see Agatha and Oliver standing behind me.

  Agatha is frowning at me, she’s mad. She has her “you’ve done it again” look. It’s the one she wears when she thinks I’ve behaved in an inappropriate fashion. Shrugging her shoulders, she walks away to the buffet to get food. I can tell that she’s upset with me.

  Oliver, on the other hand, seems amused. He says, “Hey, Patrick, Jade warned you; she said you didn’t want to know.”

  “Hell, she sure was right… I should have listened.” Patrick laughs, and asks me, “Are we good?”

  “Yeah, sure. We’re fine,” I answer, smiling back at him to show that I mean it. I try really hard to be civil, and add, “It was nice meeting you.”

  The men get up and go. Oliver says, “Go ahead, I’ll meet you at the car in a minute.”

  He sits next to me on the bench with his back to what is now my very private table. His elbows rest on it and he looks at me as if I’m of a different species.

  I get that a lot, so I just say, “That’s the story of my life. I told you, I scare guys away.”

  “Your problem is more serious than I imagined. Hell, you’ve managed to freak out four of the bravest men I know.”

  “She sure did,” says Agatha, who sits down across from me.

  Oliver turns his head around and, over his shoulder, says to Agatha, “She has yet to scare me away. I’m still here!” He turns back to me, gets closer, and asks softly, “How are you feeling? No withdrawal symptoms, yet?”

  I can’t help smiling. I really like this man.

  “No, sir. So far, so good,” my tone is light but as my eyes lock onto his, my heart beats a little too fast.

  “Good. See you when I get back, then. I look forward to our next conversation.”

  As he gets up, his hand rests against my shoulder and he winks. Agatha’s mouth is wide open.

  Cool. She’s no longer mad. Now she’s curious, and I can see it’s eating her up. She waits for Oliver to get passed the door and then asks, “What was that about?”

  “Kissing,” I answer without offering any further information.

  Agatha tilts her head sideways, and does not ask me to elaborate. She knows that sooner or later I’ll tell her. At some point, I’ll need someone to talk and she’s the only one I have.

  I keep her company while she tells me about her day. I listen, nod, and smile. She’s not really interested in my opinion, she just wants to unwind with someone, and, since James fled to the hills when he heard of my sperm collecting method, she’s stuck with me.

  CHAPTER SIX

  ONE WEEK’S ALMOST GONE BY, and I’ve fallen into a routine. I get up at 5, go to wash and swim by the waterfall all by myself, and then meet with Agatha and give her feedback on the results of the tests that I conducted on her samples.

  The staff of the camp doesn’t seem to be scared of me anymore. They are starting to get used to the idea that one can have red hair and not be diabolical. They have even taught me a few words, just the basics like, hello: “sabaidi”, please: “kaluna”, thanks: “chop chai”, goodbye: “lacon.”

  I can also introduce myself: “Khoy seu Jade.”

  When I’m done with my work I wander alone and explore the area.

  One morning, I did the touristy thing, which is to watch the procession of the monks being fed by the villagers. I’m told that the essentials of their earthly belongings are the clothes on their backs, and a bowl to collect food. Talk about packing light. This is taking simplicity to an extreme level.

  Another day, I visited the Pak Ou Caves, in which hundreds of statues of Buddha are stored and then I spent hours contemplating the tree of life wall of the Wat Xieng Thong. I’m in love with that temple, but I can’t figure out why I like it so much. It’s like a fascination, and I keep going back to it.

  However, what I enjoy the most is walking along the Mekong, or the Nam Khan. I pack water, food, a first aid kit and take long strolls alone by the banks. Wag-dog goes with me a bit of the way, but he never gets too far from the camp, so I’m alone most of the time.

  Today, I’m trying a new route, when I hear a strange noise that I can’t identify. I pass a large boulder, and walk out on a water buffalo and a clouded leopard.

  The buffalo is making a valiant show of courage, but it’s tied to a tree. Its liberty of movement is hindered; he does not have a chance to run away, or fight against this magnificent predator. They both freeze as I stumble upon them. The giant cat hisses at me, and slowly shifts its body in my direction.

  Crap, my knowledge on leopards is non-existent[add comma] but I know cats and it’s clear from this beast’s body language that it just decided that I’m easier prey than the buffalo.

  Think Jade, think! I’m sure not going to outrun it, and I can’t climb a tree to save my life.

  Flight is out, so the only thing left is fight.

  Right, I’m certifiable. How could I engage a big feline with my bare hands?

  I force myself to breathe.

  Well, I’m not totally bare-handed. I have a backpack with a thermos and a first aid kit. I also hold a very pointy walking stick.

  The leopard crouches, and I can see its shoulder blades rolling under the skin. My mother’s cat did that when it was about to jump on a mouse. Today, I’m the mouse.

  My only chance is to scare the crap out of the animal before I’m turned into lunch. My heart is beating so loudly, it’s almost as if I have a frightened bird trying to fly out from my ribcage.

  Before I overthink, I act. I growl, throw my backpack in the cat’s direction with all the force I can muster, and lounge forward prepared to use the stick as a spearhead.

  The backpack lands on the hind leg of the leopard. It yelps, looks at the tip of my stick, which is getting dangerously close to its face, and it runs.

  I breathe out. I can’t believe it! I just chased a leopard away!

  Just as I’m about to relax I’m startled by a shrieking sound coming from above. I look up the coconut tree to which the buffalo is tied: there’s a kid up there and he’s screaming because he’s terrified.

  I try to hush him, and then I laugh at the absurdity of the situation. I’ve got red hair. I’m a demon, a very powerful demon. Hey, come on, I just chased a leopard away! There’s no way that the kid is getting down from the tree as long a
s I’m around.

  So, instead of trying to reassure him, I approach the exotic cow. It’s got a bite on its flank, but it does not look deep. It’ll be fine if it doesn’t get infected.

  I open my backpack. My thermos bottle is shattered to pieces, and everything but my first aid kit, which is sealed in plastic, is soaked. I talk softly to the large animal, and open the little plastic bottle of disinfectant. It’s going to sting a bit. I look up to the kid. If only he could come down and help with the animal, it would make my job easier. It’s worth a try, so I motion for him to come down.

  Nope, it’s not going to happen. He’s petrified. The only thing he’s able to do right now is hold onto the trunk of the tree, and watch me do my handy work. I dab the alcohol where I see teeth marks. It would be easier if I could shave off the fur to bare the skin but it’s all I can do. I wish I had something to cover the wound; I hope it heals before too many insects discover such a perfect place to lay their eggs. But I can’t do anything about that.

  I pet the cow, and say “I’ll be back tomorrow to check on you baby.” I wave goodbye to the boy.

  It takes me forever to get back to the camp because of the aftershock of the adrenaline rush.

  God, I think I’ve used ten years of supply in one day. I’ve never been so scared in my entire life, and scary isn’t my thing. My thing is quiet, thought-out, calm and planned.

  I’m not breathing a word of this to Agatha because if I do she’ll have a shit fit, and will insist that I never leave the camp alone when I go for my walks. Of course, it would be safer if I was armed, but then again, what are the chances of running into another big cat?

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  THE NEXT DAY I RETURN to see my patient. The buffalo is a little further upstream than before. I guess the boy changes the pasture site every day. He sees me, and silently rushes back up in a tree.

  “Yes, your red demon has come back to haunt you,” I tell him.

  The buffalo’s looking to be in good health. It flicks it tail continuously on the wounded flank to chase the insects away. I’ve taken a small jar of honey from the kitchen, and I clean the openings again, and cover them with the honey. It will serve as a disinfectant and will coat the flesh.