Mutated scientist and atom girl.

In a laboratory is a dark haired man, working frivolously with some petri dishes and vials full of an odd green liquid. He is being very cautious not to let the liquid touch his skin, sweating beads from extreme concentration. He wears goggles over his eyes for safety measures. Every so often he will pour some liquid into a dish, stir it with a glass thermometer, scribble notes down, then continue observing.

Elsewhere, in a large room full of faceless adults, sits a young girl possibly around 8 years old. She has dark skin, and very white hair. The expression on her face is nonexistent; she looks as if she is unaware of emotion. The men around her are dressed up: professors, scientists, military men, and the like. She sits next to a large machine, shaped almost like a coffee maker, but where the pot would sit there was a large bowl full of small, colored balls that looked to be liquid. She gestures with her hands and they lift, move, and swirl around her. People in the croud cheer, and shout ot requests. "Make Boron!" said one, to which she did. She waved her arms, and the colored balls circled around her, faster and faster, and then upon slowing, formed a single (albeit, rather large) atom of boron. "Tungsten!" shouted another, and she did that as well. A large man who barely fit into his lab outfit put his hand on her shoulder and smiled a like a jackle to the onlookers. "As you can see gentelman, she has ultimate control over the smallest of particles. This young woman IS atomic energy." The crowd errupts with applause and cheers, the large man, his face in shadow all but his smile which shown brightly, and the girl just sat there. She was staring into nothing, but then, her eyes widened. I am not actually in the room, nor the dream really, simply viewing it like a camera. But she stares right into me, as if she can see I am there. She gasps the slightest gasp, but nobody in the room notices.

I notice.

The scientist notices.

Back in the lab, he feels a gasp come over him, and it breaks his concentration. In that millesecond of absent thought, where a little girls first emotion had touched his mind and puzzled him ever so slightly, his finger slipped. He dabbed the very end of his left index finger into a petri dish and got a sticky, moldy substance on it. Just the tiniest bit. He began to panic, stumbling back out of his chair. He wiped the finger on his coat, smearing the light green substance into painted lines. After a moment he calmed, reassuring himself that the smallest amount won't hurt. He will be fine. He will be fine.

As soon as this thought crossed his mind, pain ripped through his body. He watched as his skin slowly began to fade to a sick yellow color. He twisted his hand in front of his face, gasping in horror as he felt his bones rip and pop, readjust. "No, no no no no no no !" he said to himself as the rest of his body goes through the change. Pop, snap, creeeek, rip. He can feel himself getting taller, his muscle mass rapidly growing. He looks in a mirror and sees his skull split open in front of his own eyes, his brain bubbling like an egg in a pan. His flesh thickens, his skull rebuilds itself around the sizzling brain. He watches the ground as his shadow changes form in front of him; becoming bulky, tall. His clothes are tearing off, unable to stay on his newly formed body. He cannot describe his hurt, his fear. When it is finished, his head is bumped on the ceiling.

He breathes in slowly, and breathes out even slower. A deep inhale/exhale exchange. Out of the corner of his eye he sees his former self, ghostlike and curled up on the ground. It gets up slowly and looks up, into his eyes.

"Fuck, you really did it this time didn't you?"

"Ug...guh..." He is unable to speak properly, his tongue feels foreign. Looking down at the shadow figure, he decides to never try again.

"We can't let anyone see this. Must hide, must hide."

He looks down at it and nods. Following the person that he once was, who he is sure is not really there, he is led into a parking garage. On the bottom level, he hided under the ramp. It is damp, it is cold, outside is thunder and lightning. Sitting under the car ramp, deep under ground, the monstrous man lays down his head on old newspapers and cries himself to sleep. Or he would have, if tears would form.