You grumble to yourself as you haphazardly pour various acids and dissolved salts into an Erlenmeyer flask, creating a questionably useful aqueous mixture of your own making. You throw in a little copper (II) sulfate in for good measure.
Honestly, you don't really know what you're doing. Your Reverse Course Chemistry teacher, Mr. Gunsoo, has been busting your chops about this stupid midterm project that's due tomorrow. Everyone's supposed to bring in some kind of compound to show off for domestic use. You could make practically anything--window cleaners, perfume, hairspray, silly putty...
Sounds easy, right? Well, the problem is you had to choose from a predetermined list of things to make. And it just so happened that when the projects were being assigned, you were out sick with the flu. Not really, of course; you just wanted to take a break after 4 weeks of nonstop homework you'd been doing.
As such, when you came back to class the next day--suspiciously healthy, as Mr. Gunsoo noticed--you had the luck of picking the last (and most difficult) one. Then, he told you that it was due tomorrow. That pissed you off. The bisemesterly student festival was going on today, and the labs were closed early because of it. Thus, there was no way for you to actually complete the assignment. When you brought it up to him, he smiled with his characteristic shit-eating grin, and politely told you that he could spare a lab key for you if you came to his office at 5PM--exactly when the festival started.
...Which brings us to the present. You're sitting in an uncomfortable metal chair, mixing together ingredients you don't know much about, and cursing every time you mess up the (roughly scribbled down) measurements.
Actually, the whole assignment was written kind of strange. It...didn't really specify what the end product was used for, or even what it was? The hints and tips were pretty vague as well, and sometimes even contradictory. To top it all off, you have to 'bake' the substance 4 times, letting it cool off each time. You hadn't even gotten to the first one yet because of how poorly the details were conveyed.
To put it simply, you're not getting out of here for a while.
Sighing anxiously, you pour a portion of your third consecutive batch into a 50 mL vial, and fasten it over a lit bunsen burner. Now, all you can do is wait until it's done.
"What a damn chore! I hope I can at least catch Mondo Oowada's drag race around the campus before the whole thing ends..."
...
You're in the middle of daydreaming about punching your hardass teacher's lights out when you start hearing this strange whistling sound coming from nowhere else but your mixture. It's come to a boil somehow. But the instructions tell you to wait 5 more minutes...
*crik*
"Hm?"
*crikcrak*
That...is worrying. You grab your tongs and move to take the vial off--
*FWOOOSH*
--But then, the thing shatters, and the solution evaporates instantly, knocking you clean out of your seat! You manage to catch yourself on pure instinct, but not before bumping your head on a drawer. Dots speckle your vision. Your head starts spinning, and before you can even register what happened, you pass out.
- - -
...
.....
"Urgh..."
After God knows how long, you wake up again, muttering nonsense to yourself as you rub the sand out of your eyes. There's a dull, aching pang in the back of your head. And...is that a bruise? You're still confused for a good moment until you realize:
"Oh, what the--how long was I out for? Aw man, I bet the festival's already over..."
Then, you open your eyes. What you see fills you with a kind of dread (of despair, even) that you never thought you'd feel in your life. A massive, flat plain of checkered tiles lies before you, leading to the station you've been using...but it's HUGE! You can only barely see your bag where you placed it on the side of the desk.
W-wait...if that's your bag, then that means...
"I'm small?! What could have possibly--unless--the mixture...?"
As you hyperventilate in an effort to stave off a panic attack, you notice the big, sharp, and tangibly hot pieces of glass scattered around the floor, one mere meters away from your body. Your heart nearly leaps out of your chest. Ohmygodohmygodohmygod...I'm so, so lucky to be alive right now...okay. I've got to stay calm, I've got to get help. But how can I when I'm the size of a mouse? Shit, how can I get out of here?!
*creaaaak*
"Huhhh...why did Ruruka blow me off again? She promised we'd go together this time..."
You jump in place. Through the gaps of the chairs and counters, you can see the girl that just opened the door to the lab. What the hell? Nobody should be here at this hour except you! But, er, you guess you did kinda leave the door unlocked. The lights are on, too--
Wait, why are you complaining?! You're this much closer to getting help! You jump and wave and yell towards her, to no avail; this room's too big for your tiny voice to carry far from the cold, hard ground. The only thing you accomplish is making the lump on your head hurt more.
"There's no point in going now; my day's already ruined. I guess I'll just sit here until the festival's over," she mopes. Her voice is muffled by her brown--spiky looking?--surgical mask. It looks kind of familiar, weirdly enough. "Hmm? Is that bunsen burner on?!"
Her footsteps grow louder and faster. The floor shakes as she speedwalks towards your work station. Reality hits you: you're on the floor. She could step on you. Fear and adrenaline take over your mind; you rush towards the very edge of the wooden shelves, hoping against all odds that you can get there without being crushed...!
*thoom, thoom, THOOOM*
By the skin of your teeth, you manage to hide yourself right as the white-haired girl steps up. She doesn't waste any time in turning off the gas and turning on the fume hood with a sigh of relief. "Phew. T-that could've been bad. But what are these beakers and instructions doing out here...? Are all Reverse Course students this lazy?"
You don't know why you speak out; if you're not careful, you'll only get yourself in more trouble. Perhaps it was the accuracy of her remark that got to you. Either way, you yell up to her:
"Hey! I resent that!"
Judging by how her eyes widen, and her gaze lowers to the floor, your shouting actually seemed to reach her this time. She looks around wildly. Unfortunately, it seems like she didn't see you (in no small part because you're way too scared to walk out near those brown, heeled loafers of hers). "A-am I hearing things?" She shuffles her feet, only to hear a crunch beneath one. "Wh--broken glass?! Oh no, someone got hurt, didn't they? That's probably why nobody's here..."
Your heartbeat quickens again as the tousle-haired girl rushes over to the cabinet nearby--presumably to get a broom and pan to sort out your little mess. The footsteps don't get any quieter...
"I'll d-do them a favor and clean this up. I wonder..." she mutters, "Why are they working during the festival...?"
You'd like to know that too.
Pressing your body flat against the nook of the tool drawers, you just barely avoid being swept up into a pile of giant, pointy chunks of glass--it doesn't save you from being buffeted by gusts of dust from the unwashed flooring, annoying (and potentially sickening) as it is.
Even after the worst of it is over, you can't will yourself to walk out into the open. You're still too shaken by the unbelievable situation you're in; your instincts won't let you. Her foot's bigger than a car, for pete's sake!
All you can hope for is that she notices you while you're down here...  indicates the next chapter needs to be written. |
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