Pendle’s Folly

February 9th, 2015

It is dead, after everything I have done to prevent this outcome. Maybe I was fool hardy in my attempts to convince them that it deserved the chance to live. Who am I kidding, I knew this would be the outcome for the last six months, since it first opened its eyes under the flickering lights of the lab, the air-filled with the heavy smell of body odor and cigarettes.

And how could I have dragged her into this, that poor stubborn young woman, I wasted not only her money, but her time. On top of that I may have shown her far too early in life what man is capable of in terms of cruelty and dissociation with other living things. It started out so easily, a twenty-three year old lucky enough to win the lottery, and with a deep enough love of science to fund my incredibly experimental work. We were both so hopeful in the beginning, with each day came progress, and with each bit of progress came new knowledge. We had brought into the world an entirely new life form, we loved and raised it as if it were our own for six short months together.

They brought me the news only a week ago, that they were pulling the plug, something about the board of directors not being able to agree if the project was sustainable. I would not have cared much if they had only pulled out their support, but to rob the world of learning from a brand new life, I can not understand, or maybe I just do not want to.

When it was all said and done, my companion looked to me not with sadness or weakness, but with misanthropy in her eyes. “We’ve failed” she said, I assumed she meant with the experiment and tried to reassure her the merit in what we could learn, but she continued “no, we have failed as humans. As creatures with the capacity to love, we acted without patience and calmness, but with swiftness and cruelty. Goodbye you silly old man.” With that she was gone, leaving only me and my thoughts in that terribly lonely little lab.

I want to believe my intentions were good, maybe I have fooled myself. I do not think it would be fair for me to try to say, narrators are always the most forgiving of their own actions, aren’t they? I am not sure anymore who I am trying to justify my actions for, the world or myself. How could I let them murder her? Is murder the right word I wonder, but what else do you call taking life away from an unwilling creature. That said I beg of you my patient reader, please do not let my failure be without a purpose. Take my horrid mistakes and be sure that no one dares repeat them again. I can summarize what I have learned from this with one short statement;

“Kids, don’t be a god damn scientist. They’ll take everything from you.”

-G.K. Pendle



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