Chapter Text
The Arachnid Handbook, my laptop, some makeup, biology and genetics notes. Oh, and my vintage Levi's bag that I found at a flea market on Monday. That's what occupied my desk that morning.
The Handbook, my laptop, and the notes betrayed the studies I had been working so hard on. The makeup—pink lipstick and dark brown eyeliner, because my aunt could no longer accept my dark eyes at dawn—told another chapter in the story of my early morning.
The truth is, the week had been crazy, similar to last week, but for the past three days I've been turning myself inside out and exceeding my limits.
Meeting and talking to James wasn't easy, at least not acceptable at first. But today, Thursday, I stayed up all night for the second time this week, with the purpose of taking seriously the search I committed to. That's why I'm getting myself ready visually at five in the morning, so I can face the rest of the day with more energy and a less worn-out appearance.
I spoke with the librarian a few days ago and managed to get an agreement to keep the book indefinitely, so I don't stumble in my research depending on a deadline. Two days ago I also received a surprise, this time from Mr. Otto, who noticed my "interest" in genetics and its studies as a whole.
I saw the envy in my classmates' eyes, especially Keonho's, when the professor came to class with five sets of handouts full of exercises for me to do at home, just for fun. Later I earnestly asked him to bring some for Keonho too, as he was an equally dedicated student—if not more so than me.
In any case, those biology questions wouldn't just help me with school exams; they existed for a greater cause, which Mr. Otto had no idea about. Without knowing it, he helped me more than I could have if I had asked, so, as a thank you, I will make good use of the notes and take them to James so we can discuss some initial ideas together.
For safety reasons, James and I have chosen not to exchange numbers or any kind of virtual contact. I don't know exactly what the basis is for this need for discretion. He says it's to ensure our safety, and even though I'm not entirely informed about the dangers we face, I have my hunches. That's why I prefer to strictly follow his orders.
The only thing he warned me about was that any misstep could put me in the center of the battlefield, so we'll have to study my body's changes as cautiously as possible. We even arranged for me to visit him today, my second visit—I'm not counting the first time I set foot in that coffee shop because the experience was strange, so I'm calling that day the pilot episode. But the day after my first visit, I stopped by the coffee shop to finalize some details—the most important being the best way for us to communicate.
I can't yet say how my experience with Zhao Yufan is going. He has that slightly unpredictable personality; out of nowhere he blurts out unnecessary information and does the most random things I've ever seen a human being do. However, his network of knowledge and his thirst for answers have amazed me from the very first second I laid eyes on that investigative tree in his secret office.
All those distinct points connected like leaves on the stem of a plant. As I had already finished on Monday, I might really need it.
I checked the analog clock on my desk and was startled by the time. Six o'clock sharp. I got up hurriedly and clumsily put everything away from my desk. I needed to learn to organize myself so I could handle all my tasks first thing in the morning; I had relaxed after spring break.
Suddenly, I remembered the form I handed in at the beginning of the year, before the break, that I needed to fill out with all my information and leave with the coordinator. Midtown must have been going through a major data restoration process, and Keonho must have been the first person among so many students to hand in that huge form that I lost. Speaking of Keonho, he'll kill me if he finds out I didn't hand in the form; the school needs my information for me to be eligible to participate in the Student Council elections. Shit!
I dropped my backpack, with all my school supplies, on the floor and started opening the drawers scattered around my moderately messy room. In my defense, the last few days haven't been very kind to me. I wondered where I could have thrown those stapled papers for them to have simply vanished from the planet called My Room.
"Mila!"
I heard Aunt May's voice coming from downstairs. Damn it! I thought. Was it already breakfast time? She usually took longer to get it ready.
"I'm coming, Aunt!" I shouted back. I hoped she had heard me even with the door closed.
I remained bent over searching for the damn form. My knees were already starting to ache, but I could swear I had put it in that junk drawer of mine.
Even after removing all the abandoned objects that previously occupied it, I found nothing. I rolled my eyes, already feeling the weight of my dark circles warning me that the day would be long.
I quickly gave up looking for the form and stood up to stretch. I felt a series of parts of my body stretching and, after standing still for a few seconds, I remembered breakfast.
I put on my new denim jacket and left my room, about to go downstairs, when I remembered my tired face. I mentally cursed, not wanting May to know about my sleepless nights.
I carefully backtracked a few steps so as not to make a sound and went back into my room, looking for some concealer or foundation to fix my face a little. I saw the backpack thrown on the floor and remembered that just a few minutes ago I had thrown all my desk supplies inside, including my makeup.
I took a deep breath, impatient to rummage through my bag. I left my room and headed towards May's. She probably had concealers in various shades; I just needed to find them, but it wouldn't be too difficult, she was very vain and usually woke up early to get ready.
I searched with my eyes for a makeup case or something similar and soon spotted her perfectly arranged everyday bag on her bed. She would definitely keep my quick solution there.
I grabbed her bag and rummaged through every compartment, but the most I found was a lip gloss in a blackberry shade. Okay, my quick solution must be in some other very obvious corner of that room. I put my hands on my hips and tried to think of a quick and practical solution.
"Mila, where are you? You're going to be late!" I heard her voice again and my eyes widened.
"I'm looking for the form with my information, Auntie! I'll be down in a minute!" I said something. I needed to be quick.
My first thought amidst the tension was to bend down and see if there was anything under her bed, and wouldn't you know it, there was! A box covered in pink glitter. It was the most Aunt May thing imaginable. I bent down a little more to reach the box with my arms, but it was a bit far away.
I almost broke my neck trying to get it, but I managed and really hoped that inside there were only self-care products and not something too personal and forbidden, because if there was, I was about to cross all boundaries of privacy for a good cause.
I opened the box and was confused. At least it didn't contain what I feared most, but the contents weren't makeup or anything like that either. I saw folded papers, notes, letters, and developed photos, a real box of surprises—and memories.
I smiled slightly, admiring this other side of Aunt May.
I don't know why I never stopped to think if she would have something like that, because it was so her. On the other hand, I always thought she would have been a very eccentric and friendly teenager, one of those surrounded by friends and with a busy social life.
I hesitantly picked up a photo of two women. It was my aunt and my grandmother, young. The grandmother I never had the opportunity to meet, from whom I inherited my oriental features.
I also picked up a small folded sheet of paper, one of those lined notebook papers. As soon as I opened it, I realized it was a love letter. I couldn't resist and glanced at the message. Aunt May was excessively cheesy, and cute. That must have been her teenage boyfriend.
A little further down, I found another photo that was significantly hidden. I became very curious and picked up the photograph, ending up finding a moment immortalized between sisters. My mother and my aunt. Misun Song and May Song. They looked very much alike, with long, straight black hair.
I held that piece of paper against my chest and smiled, grateful to have transcended the boundaries of aunt and niece. Then I put the photo back in the box and pushed it under the bed, but I saw out of the corner of my eye that something had been left behind, fallen on the floor.
I must have let it slip without realizing it. I crouched down and took a good look at the photo. My heart raced. It was my parents, smiling beautifully. They were wearing lab coats and had their hands in their pockets. I had to admit, they looked a lot like the romantic couple from the Bridgerton series, which Aunt May used to cry watching on weekends.
My father had very light brown eyes and was a little gray-haired, while my mother looked remarkably well-preserved. I had never realized that they had also had science as their first love and that they got together while studying at university. I remember my aunt saying something like that, but I never gave it much importance.
"Looks like I have a very nosy niece," I jumped up and unconsciously hid the photo behind me.
"Aunt May!" I mentally tortured myself. How long had I been watched? "How long have you been here?"
"Long enough to see you, young lady, peeking through my things" She crossed her arms and looked at me seriously.
"I'm sorry, Aunt May, I was..." I gasped for air as I tried to explain. I didn't even remember what I was doing there in her room, but I had an idea when I saw the form in her hands "The form! That's it! I was looking for the form! Oh my, I thought I'd lost it! Where did you find it?"
I approached and raised my hand to take the sheet from her hands, but she recoiled. My feigned smile died when I saw that my excuse hadn't worked on her.
"What are you hiding there?" She asked, pointing to my hands behind my back.
"Nothing."
I swallowed hard, seeing that she wasn't being convinced by my act. The truth was, I didn't want to part with that photograph, but I realized I wouldn't be a match for her, and I sighed before placing it in her hands.
She looked me up and down, suspiciously. Then she looked at the photo. Then she stared at me again.
"You can keep it."
It took me a few seconds to absorb her words.
"What?" I asked, my voice a whisper.
"You can keep the photo. It's your parents, it makes more sense for it to be with you."
After that, she simply put her hands in her pockets and walked out the door peacefully, leaving me alone in her room, but I wasn't entirely alone; I was accompanied by my thoughts.
When did I stop caring about those who brought me into the world? Or perhaps the right question is: why exactly didn't I develop an interest in my parents?
I went to school thinking about this. May and I ate peacefully at the breakfast table, but I felt a huge lump stuck in my throat, as if I were desperate to ask questions but didn't quite know where to begin.
Now, sitting at my desk, I was beautifully distracted from my English class. Like any other subject, I aced it, but this one in particular I should pay a little more attention to. I think it's pretty clear I was born for the natural sciences.
"Mila Song daydreaming in Ms. Beaufort's class? What will the administration think?" Keonho whispered behind me, trying to annoy me.
"Keonho bothering her friend and disrupting English class, what will the administration think?" I turned around to start a little argument and got annoyed by his small, mischievous smile "No! I misspoke! Actually, what will the Student Council think?"
His annoying smile vanished instantly. I smiled contentedly.
"You know that mentioning the Student Council during election season triggers me!"
"It's for you to watch out, Keonho! By the way, did you hear that Seonghyon is also running for treasurer?" I whispered so the teacher wouldn't overhear our conversation.
"Of course I heard! There's nothing that happens behind the scenes in that club that I don't know about! That idiot Seonghyon is going to run and Juhoon is going to campaign for him! The nice guy who doesn't want trouble with anyone!" Keonho complained, crossing his arms.
"The nice guy who doesn't want trouble with anyone is surprisingly the same person who broke my glasses and planned my social demise," I said sarcastically. I was surprised Keonho had remained silent, but when I turned around, I saw that he was deep in thought.
“I decided to start humbly and run for treasurer, but that pain in the ass had to copy me! What if I expose this whole affair and the dangerous duo falls apart?” He suggested, and I widened my eyes.
“Are you crazy? If you do that, I’ll be in trouble! They’ll come after me!” I whispered too loudly.
“What do you want me to do to boost my campaign? Making the enemy look bad is the best option!” He argued.
“Keonho, you’re so smart, I don’t know how you’re even considering doing something so senseless! Why don’t you focus on showing how good you are instead of wasting your time feeling threatened by those two?” I flicked his forehead. A few moments ago I wanted to provoke him, but now I needed to state the obvious to my friend.
"Because I know nobody will pay attention to me, and I don't know how to make this work!" Keonho said indignantly. I opened my mouth, unsure what to answer, surprised by his self-awareness. I felt sorry for him for a few seconds "Unless my newly popular best friend wants to help me..."
Tired of the subject, I felt the pity fade. Every day Keonho talked about the Student Council. Not that it was horrible to hear my only friend talk about the things he liked, but it became annoying when the only thing he did was always harp on the same thing and not take my opinion into consideration.
"Keonho, I'm not going to be your poster girl! Forget it!"
"Mila, please! I've never asked you for anything!"
"Said the person who almost strangled me for forgetting to bring the form in advance" I said ironically, but then I remembered that the completed form was in my bag and not in the coordinator's hands "Damn it, I haven't handed it in yet!
"Don't worry, my beautiful friend! I'll carry it for you! Only I could deliver it myself for them to accept your lateness," he tried to flatter me, but I responded with a disgusted expression. As he crouched down trying to reach my backpack, I remembered something important and dangerous.
"Keonho, wait!" I shouted and grabbed the backpack before it was in his hands. Perhaps I had spoken too loudly, because the whole room fell silent and everyone's attention turned to us.
He looked at me with wide eyes and gestured with his lips, trying to reprimand me, but he couldn't withstand the pressure of the stares and hid his face in his hands. I felt an imaginary drop of sweat trickle down my forehead.
"Mila? Keonho? Is the class uninteresting enough for you two to organize a revolt?" The teacher asked, creating a tense atmosphere in the room.
"No, Ms. Beaufort! My friend here was just having spasms. You know how it is, right?" Keonho said behind me. What a stupid boy. What a lame excuse was that? I heard some laughter around the room and felt like my days of exclusion and bullying were returning.
"Spasms?" The teacher uttered, and I shrank further in my chair "Hm! I hope that's all it is! I wouldn't want to send my best students to the principal's office."
I released the breath I hadn't realized I was holding. I glanced at my friend and saw that his intentions towards me weren't the best. When I realized it, I was clutching my backpack like my life depended on it, a backpack that held something more precious than my school supplies and that damned form.
Earlier, I had arranged to visit James and his exotic laboratory right after school, so I brought with me the container with the spider's remains—which, by the way, had been gathering dust on my shelf for almost two weeks. If Keonho or anyone else came into contact with it, they could suffer serious harm, and that was the last thing I wanted for the people around me.
I repeat: I don't know to what extent I should protect myself against the danger that James described as being of great impact, but I prefer to avoid conflict while I'm still vulnerable. When I learn to use my new abilities to my advantage, that will be a different story.
I discreetly took the form from between the pages of my backpack and placed it on Keonho's desk behind me. I could hear his huff and chuckled softly. Annoying him was always very funny, but amidst weeks of changes and stress, it had become a necessity to hear his desperation to fight back. What a beautiful friendship!
That was the fifth class of the morning, and at the end of the sixth and last one, I tried to leave as invisibly as I could. However, my plans were thwarted by my best friend, who grabbed my arm before I could go through the classroom door.
I mentally prepared myself to hear a lecture or words of hurt because of what had happened earlier, but I was surprised when I looked at him and detected a contagious excitement emanating from his face.
"You won't believe who followed me on Instagram!" I was curious, but I didn't want to show it.
"For you to be so excited, it must have been the president of the Student Council."
"No, Mila, you have no idea!" — He spoke and let go of my arm to poke at his phone screen. I waited fifteen seconds for some information, but Keonho was extremely distracted by that virtual mystery.
"You held me back from saying anything?"
"Yes! It's my revenge for making me go through that embarrassment in English class!" He said without taking his eyes off his smartphone.
"You're the one who started bothering me! I was trying to pay attention to Ms. Beaufort when out of nowhere you came whispering in my ear!" I replied, offended.
"You were pretty distracted for someone who was trying to pay attention" I rolled my eyes, annoyed.
"Okay, Keonho. Can I go home? Just so you know, I have a lot of commitments today!"
"Calm down, impatient one! I'll show you in a minute!" He smiled at the device and seemed to type something.
"Are you talking to someone?" I asked, indignant at having wasted my time with him while he was just chatting. I grabbed his phone and snatched it from his hand.
"Wow, Mila! You ruined my suspense..." He crossed his arms and tried to peek at my reaction, but I didn't quite know how to react.
Inside, my stomach was in turmoil; on the outside, I seemed not to care. The phone was open to an Instagram conversation, and the profile name was Martin.
"Why so much suspense? I don't even care!" I handed him back the phone and walked away. I soon heard him behind me.
"You don't even care? My bro Martin finally followed me on Instagram! You must be curious to know what we talked about..." He teased, trying to keep up with my pace.
"Seriously, you wasted my time for this? Keonho, he and I met once, and that's when we got to know each other! I really don't care if you two are friends now!" I tried to sound indifferent "In fact, I bet he feels like throwing his phone out the window every time you text him!"
"Well then, you're going to lose that bet! He even asked me to play basketball sometime soon..." I stopped walking abruptly, which made him stop too. Before saying what was stuck in my throat, I thought for a whole minute if it would be a good choice. I knew it wouldn't and that Keonho would tease me for at least a month, but, in my defense, I've been very sensitive lately.
"And what about me?"
"About you, what?"
"You didn't talk about me?" I asked, avoiding eye contact as much as possible. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see his expression gradually change.
"I've never seen someone who doesn't care ask that..." He teased me, and I rolled my eyes.
"Oh, fine, Keonho! You know what? I'm leaving!" I walked away without another word. I didn't want to be further humiliated if he saw my red cheeks — I supposed, because they burned like fire.
Minutes had passed since my last interaction with my friend at the school exit, and I was already near the cafeteria. That moment of fun for Keonho and embarrassment for me had even vanished from my mind. My headphones blasted J. Cole, and the hairs on my arm stood on end with the waves the music provided.
Almost home, the sound of the song was muffled by the notification that gave me quite a fright. I picked up my phone and saw it was a message from Keonho. What did that boy want now?
I opened our Messenger conversation and clicked on the photo he had sent me. It was a screenshot of a conversation with Martin. They talked a bit about basketball, and Martin's invitation to a game was shining on my screen. A little further down, I saw my name being mentioned.
"My bro Martin, can I bring Mila?"
"Are you kidding? Of course, man! I've been wanting to meet her for ages, but I don't have her social media ☹"
Oh. My. God.
Keonho, I don't know if I love you or hate you for this.
*
When I entered the coffee shop for the third time in my life, I was surprised by how empty it was. Even at peak hours, that place didn't have a single living soul to tell the tale. Not even James was in sight. So, as agreed, I simply took the liberty of moving forward and following the path I remembered.
This time I was able to pay more attention to my surroundings. That tunnel was dark and mostly lined with pipes and... tunnel stuff. I spotted some fire extinguishers. How many times must James have almost blown up that hidden place with his outlandish experiments?
It was all kind of dark and genuinely looked like a scene from an action movie. I felt the same sensation as when I first passed through here earlier in the week, as if I were in Maze Runner. Was everything here James's? Had he built this establishment to conduct his research in the shadows? Or did he have a boss and had he tricked me, with everything he did being under orders from someone higher up? I shuddered at the thought and decided that my answer to my own doubt would be that I would have to meet him more often to find out. Whether I liked it or not, he was the only one who knew about my gifts, to the point that it was a secret just between us.
I found myself standing in front of the door. It was strange, dark green. I knocked three times and waited for a response. The response was a noisy vacuum, as the door didn't open and I couldn't detect a single sound from inside. Curious, I decided to try opening the door, but the moment I went to push the doorknob, the door opened, almost making me trip.
I stood up again and tried to disguise my near fall, but James was already staring at me with a crooked look. That look that only his strange self has. He held the doorknob and covered himself with the door, as if accusing me of trying to break into a room.
"Did it take you so long to open the door?" I said, feigning normalcy.
"Mila Song! What a surprise to see you here!" He watched me fix my hair with a suspicious look.
"What do you mean, 'surprise'? We agreed to meet again!"
"Yes, but I had my doubts about that..." He turned and walked into the laboratory, leaving the door open for me to follow.
"You doubted I would come back?" I walked behind him and observed the scene around me in bewilderment. I had forgotten the magnitude of those experiments.
"Of course! There's a greater chance of a teenage girl avoiding a mad scientist than forming alliances with him" His hair was more disheveled today. I wondered if he'd gotten an electric shock on the one day I didn't see him. Thinking about it, it's not so improbable.
"So you admit you're a mad scientist?" I stopped and crossed my arms. He smiled at me sarcastically.
"Silly girl!" James walked to his little corner that looked like an office and hung his lab coat on the chair "What do you have for me today?"
"I should be asking you, right? You're the inventions guy!"
"And you're our Spider-Girl!" He spoke like a television presenter. Did I mention that guy was weird?
"Spider-Girl?" I questioned. It just sounded new, not so bad.
"Yeah! It would be interesting if we started using codenames, wouldn't it? Or have you already forgotten what we talked about last time?"
"About the dangers we face?"
"Exactly, young lady! You're so smart!" He pulled up a chair and sat down to organize some materials on his desk.
"You seem to be in a good mood today, Scientist Zhao" I said, walking towards him. He stared at me seriously.
"Was that the codename you were thinking of? Seriously?" He asked, breaking character "Codenames exist so we can communicate through codes, so nobody knows what it's about!"
"What would be better for you, then? Crazy scientist? No, right? It's still too obvious it's you!" I teased him.
"When I called you childish, you got offended."
"Because I'm not!"
"If you say so, teenager with painted eyes and auntie clothes" I rolled my painted eyes.
"These aren't my auntie's clothes anymore, they're brand new!" I exclaimed, pointing to my authentic jacket "And I prefer Spider-Girl!" He simply nodded "Besides, what do you think you can say about the clothes I wear? Your fashion is like some crazy downtown guy's."
"If you're not going to stop calling me crazy, at least do it right, like crazy about science."
"Actually, since you acknowledge that you're crazy and like being called that, I'll change. You're now the science man!"
"Why on earth did I do business with a teenager?" He muttered to himself.
"Hey! I heard that!"
"Good!"
"Didn't you like it? We're a team: Spider-Girl and Science Man!" I gestured, trying to convince him. I really liked our nicknames as a duo. James chuckled to himself.
"If we're going to think as a team, then I want to be Captain Science!" He raised his arm like a superhero, making me laugh.
"Where did you get that 'Captain' from? Captain Underpants?"
"I got it from the fact that I'm the one in the leadership position on the project!"
"And me? What do I do?" I asked indignantly.
"You're the foundation of the project, you're the main character! Are you happy now?" He asked, and I nodded. I realized I'd been there for a while and we still hadn't gotten to the real purpose of my visit.
"James, actually, I do have something for you today..." I called his attention, reaching into my backpack and pulling out the day's treasure. I handed him our precious object and saw his eyes light up.
"This could be...?"
"Yes."
I watched him remove the cloth that concealed the contents and examine the animal's remains.
"So it was her," he commented, intently. "What happened to make her so... worn out?"
"I don't know. It must have been when I grabbed her. Actually, I don't know when she bit me, so anything could have happened," I said thoughtfully.
"Don't you remember anything unusual?"
"No."
— Any guesses?
I shook my head and he sighed. I knew that was a sign that we would be working hard on this, and I couldn't tell if I felt something good or bad about that possibility. It was a mix of emotions. Maybe a bit of adrenaline and curiosity about the unknown, but also fear, of the same unknown.
I watched James lean back in his chair and stare at the ceiling for a few seconds. Then he opened the laptop on his desk and clicked the keys, focused. His mood had changed in a matter of seconds and his new persona was a strangely serious scientist.
"What are you doing?" I tried to peek.
"Research. We need to know the precedents of this animal."
I remembered the manual in my backpack. Lately, I've been carrying it everywhere.
"I have that manual with me every day" I commented, taking it out of my bag and placing it in front of him "I don't know if it will be of any use. I've been looking, but I haven't found anything very relevant."
He took the hardcover of the Arachnid Handbook from my hand and smoothed it before starting to leaf through it.
"That's because you haven't looked properly."
"What?"
"Look at this" He stopped at a page and showed it to me. Irura bidenticulata. Salticidae. A snow angel wearing a top hat. Several pieces of information below an engraving that illustrated, with considerable clarity, a purple and gold spider. Similar to the one that bit me.
"My goodness... it's incredibly similar!" I took the thick book from his hand and began to read everything about it, fascinated "How did I miss this?"
"I can't say either, it's very... distinctive, if I may say so" He said, holding the jar and glancing at the animal through the glass.
I was impressed. I don't know if it was my lack of attention or some magical ability of James's, like eagle eyes. It didn't make sense if I thought too much about it; technically, I should have perfect vision.
"Have you always been like this?" I asked curiously, trying to look at the open page of the book, but James was too agitated and focused on his own research. By this point, he had already taken the book back.
"Like what?" He asked without letting out a breath outside his bubble of concentration.
"Like this: attentive, intelligent. I don't know."
"I must be gifted or something."
"Seriously?"
"I don't know, I've never sought a diagnosis. I've never been interested in that." I nodded. In truth, if he had something like that, I wouldn't be impressed. This might have been the third time we'd met, but I'd already noticed his tendency to excel in any activity he undertook.
"To be quite honest, I wouldn't be surprised, you seem like a good scientist." He turned his attention back to me after a while.
"I seem like one?" He used a sarcastic tone.
"Yes, you seem like one, especially since I don't know you completely yet. You might do something terrible later on that compromises your image" I retorted sarcastically. James chuckled slightly at my comment, and we fell into a silence filled with a shared attitude: a willingness to research.
I went back to browsing those two pages full of information when James put the manual aside. The females were described as more opaque, while the males possessed a bright and striking magenta-golden pattern. It was a jumping spider, one of the most numerous families of that animal, with over five hundred genera and about five thousand species.
A little further down the realistic illustration of Irura Bidenticulata, I read a paragraph about its origin and some interesting facts. The distribution of jumping spiders was worldwide, but it could only be found in Southeast Asia. First seen in China and then in Thailand. Oh, and the fact that intrigued me most was its size of five to six millimeters.
"James"
"Hm?" He signaled without taking his eyes off the laptop screen.
"I know that this spider in the book looks very, too much like the spider that bit me, but, by any chance, is there any chance it's not the same one?"
"Why do you say that?"
"Because the Manual states that it only inhabits Southeast Asia, and also that, apparently, it measures five to six millimeters..." He raised an eyebrow before looking at the animal's remains in the jar.
"It definitely doesn't measure six millimeters" He pointed out and quickly began typing on the laptop, searching for updated information.
"So?" I asked hesitantly. He was reading attentively, and I couldn't describe his expression.
"That doesn't make any sense" He replied between clicks on the keyboard "What's reported on the internet isn't very different from what's in the Manual; the difference is that our spider is at least three centimeters long."
"And what about its origin?"
"Southeast Asia..." He read softly, but I heard "Thailand, China, Southeast Asia in general. What was she doing here in America? Did you travel to Asia? That would be the only explanation!"
"I've never visited Asia and I don't usually leave New York. The last time must have been about three years ago, when I went to California with Aunt May" I noticed a frown forming on his face.
"Mila, can you open the drawer under you?" He asked me, and I did, finding various office supplies and materials "Do you see a ruler or anything like that?"
"Yes" I picked up a fifteen-centimeter ruler and handed it to him. He picked up the glass jar and stood up.
"Come with me" He called me and went towards a corner closer to his experiments "Sit down" He pointed to a chair next to him.
I followed him and sat in the swivel chair. We were sitting around a small, seemingly well-sanitized laboratory table. He applied hand sanitizer and put on gloves, gesturing for them to me. I put on gloves and a disposable mask, as did he.
"Let's take a look at our little friend."
He removed the cloth from the container and, with tweezers — the kind used for surgery — removed most of the spider's body from its bottom, carefully placing it on an acrylic plate.
"Can you tell me if this container was sterilized?" he asked me.
"I don't know," I replied, trying to remember the details of that day. "When I picked up the spider, I looked for the most practical thing, not the highest quality, unfortunately."
"Yes, unfortunately indeed," he measured the spider with a ruler. "Four centimeters and five millimeters..."
He continued to examine the arachnid, always cautiously. I didn't take my eyes off it either, and I can say that it was quite a scientific experiment. The spider that bit me could be better analyzed from that angle. I was deeply grateful that she was strangely taller than average for her kind, because her features seemed otherworldly. Truly otherworldly.
He continued to cautiously examine the arachnid. I didn't take my eyes off it either, and I can say it was quite a scientific experience. The spider that bit me could be better analyzed from that angle. Deeply, I was grateful that it was strangely larger than usual for its species, because its details seemed otherworldly. Truly otherworldly.
I remembered the words written in the Manual. A snow angel wearing a top hat. It was an abstract and quite accurate definition from my point of view at that moment. Its vibrant colors had caught my attention the first time, but, looking closely, I was almost hypnotized. The combination of purple and yellow seemed so varied and harmonious at the same time.
"According to my guess, it's a male."
I was pulled from my thoughts by James's words.
"Why?"
"The article I just read said that the males have a more vibrant hue, unlike the females, which tend to be duller," I remembered what I read in the manual and mentally agreed. "However, this one seems much more vibrant than in the pictures."
"Could there be such a difference?" I asked curiously.
"I'm not sure. I'm only now delving into the existence of this species. But one thing is certain, I haven't read anything about blue and red patterns." I was confused by his statement.
"What do you mean, James?"
"Can't you see it? Here, between the cephalothorax and the abdomen," he pointed.
"No," I replied honestly, and he simply pulled out an instrument that had been resting on the edge of the table. "A binocular microscope?" He looked at me and smiled.
"You're good."
James moved the arachnid with the greatest delicacy I'd ever seen from him. Not that I'd known him for very long, but sometimes he could be... strange, to say the least. I found it odd when he acted like an ordinary person. He put his right eye to the lens and seemed to adjust some elements for better observation. I really enjoyed my first-year chemistry classes, okay?
"Take a look," he said, giving me space to see.
When I zoomed in and got a closer look, I opened my mouth with such optical precision. The image was indeed magnified to the point where the spider's details were highly visible. Besides the bright magenta-gold pattern, that male carried rich details in blue and red. To my eye, they weren't particularly noticeable, but with the help of the microscope, I could see everything.
"My God!" I glanced at James in shock. "It's almost magical! There are so many details it seems unreal..."
"And what if it were?" He raised the question after a few seconds of silence. His arms were crossed and his posture was relatively relaxed, so I knew he wasn't joking.
"What do you mean? Be clearer!"
"Are you familiar with the CRISPR method?" He asked me, and a giant question mark appeared in my thoughts.
"What on earth is that?"
"I see you haven't gotten very far in your research..." He said.
"James! Less insults and more help, please," I pleaded.
"Right. I figured you'd already had some contact with this kind of information, since at the beginning of the week you seemed keen to learn about genetic modification techniques."
"Yes, but you offered to help me, so I naturally abandoned my research."
"I'll interpret that as a sign that I inspire confidence in you as a scientist," he boasted.
"How could I not trust... that?" I looked around and we laughed. His fanaticism for experiments gave him a certain credibility. "Okay, but what's this 'crispy' all about?"
"It's CRISPR" he corrected me "and it's a molecular biology technique that allows for the genetic editing of various species with the help of the Cas9 endonuclease, which acts practically like molecular scissors." I nodded, understanding the meaning of it.
"That's... impressive. I don't even know what to say."
"In the 1980s, some ways to modify DNA already existed, but CRISPR was the first major low-cost, high-success step," he continued. "Remember Oscorp Industries?"
"Your old job?" I asked, and he laughed.
"Yes, my old job. When I started to have a more effective role in the company's scientific process, I conducted in-depth research on the subject. At the time, I remembered a college friend who had done a complete study on the method, so I used some of his files and guided Oscorp towards yet another revolution."
"Another revolution?"
"Yes. I already had some colleagues with a long-term vision when I joined. You know how it is, right? A large company lacking successful research, almost going bankrupt."
"Wow... I never would have imagined that Oscorp would have gone through that phase..."
"Ah, my dear, Oscorp has gone through many phases. The Oscorp I'm talking about is from five years ago, but it had a much darker past, long before I first set foot in that lobby."
His words made me reflective. James was a young, foreign, Asian man with a great thirst for knowledge. For him to have reached such a high level in that vast industry, he must have worked very hard. But for him to have made the decision to resign from his position as a scientist at a large company in order to pursue an independent career in science, he must not have witnessed good situations.
"And what does this technique have to do with Oscorp Industries?" I asked.
"The CRISPR method was research based on work by me and my colleagues, but I was the frontline scientist. The project didn't go ahead, but I don't know of anything else today that makes such a thing possible" James pointed to the spider and then to me with his head.
"Are you suggesting that our strangely abnormal spider might have undergone some kind of alteration?"
"Bullseye, Mila! This research started a while back for a reason, Spider-Girl, but that doesn't mean it continued actively for the same goal."
"The research must have restarted when you left" He nodded.
"Yes. When I led the research, my biggest long-term thought was gene therapy, the production of new drugs, the generation of plants more resistant to biotic stresses... I can't say what might have made them change their minds and continue my project."
"If that's what really happened" I reminded him.
"Exactly. But let's lean more towards that possibility. In the worst-case scenario, it must be something bordering on the supernatural."
"On the verge of the impossible?"
"On the verge of the impossible."
I had never imagined having a conversation of that nature with a "stranger", but in the last week I discovered that James can make many things possible. Or maybe he's just helping me see what I wouldn't see on my own.
I looked around and paid closer attention to James's investigation board. Spiders, Oscorp Industries, CRISPR... Everything perfectly organized, as if today had been scripted.
"You already knew all this before I came today" I commented.
"Yes. I can say that I tried to tell you in a natural way" I nodded.
"How long have you been working on your project again?"
"Two months" Damn it.
"And what made you return to this issue?" I asked, genuinely curious.
"An article by a former colleague who worked with me on this issue. I believe he was let go from the company, but I'm not sure."
"Did you read the article and suddenly feel the urge to research this topic again?"
"Kinda that. This article popped up for me by chance two months ago, then I noticed the author was an acquaintance" he said, rubbing his chin. "I was intrigued by the fact that the CRISPR method and its mysteries were still on his mind."
"Is there any chance he's still integrated into Oscorp?" I guessed.
"I don't think so. Employees and affiliates can't publish articles; the research is solely for the company's benefit. Information security policy." A frown appeared on my face.
"And what does Oscorp intend to do with the collected information? What purpose do the experiments and research serve?" James looked deep into my eyes and said nothing.
Something very implicit hung in the air. I remembered the first information I had about Oscorp, given by James. His initial reports, from the beginning of the week. Hostile environment. Human testing. This, added to the toxicity of the industry and the ill intentions they didn't bother to hide.
“If at any point you want to share your experiences with Oscorp, whether good or bad, you can tell me,” I said, drawing his attention. He gave a slight smile.
“I don’t know if you’re ready to hear it” he teased. “You’re only sixteen.”
“Seventeen” I corrected.
“That’s a big difference!” I sighed at his joke, holding back a laugh.
“Seriously, James. If you want us to be a team, you’ll need to open up a little more for the sake of the investigation. Deal, captain?” He nodded comically, giving me a vote of confidence because of my seriousness.
“Deal, Spider-Girl!”
*
Not long after losing track of time with James, I left. Our final thoughts from that meeting were that our affairs remain unfinished, therefore, our search for answers will continue indefinitely. I can say, after seeing him for the third time, that we're starting to get in sync.
Towards the same goal, we'll investigate and strive harder with each meeting. Until then, I hope we take action and succeed. Incredibly, this idea of being a Spider-Woman isn't so strange to me anymore. I don't know if it's because today we're relying on a more solid theory, but I don't feel as lost as before.
It's impossible to feel lost when a large dog is licking your cheeks after a long day. My day was long, okay? Full of comings and goings in New York. James's coffee shop isn't exactly near Queens.
"Ned! Stop!" I yelled between laughs. I wouldn't have cared before, but now I'm worried about my dog's health being affected by him licking the makeup off my face.
"Mila" I heard my aunt call me.
"Hi, Aunt May!" I replied, still very distracted by Ned.
"Can you come here for a second?" I got up and was followed by my dog to the kitchen. I sat at the table, facing Aunt May, who was taking a sip of coffee.
"Did you just pass by?" I asked, referring to the coffee that had a strong smell. She just nodded. I briefly questioned her silence and slightly different attitude than usual, but I shrugged and grabbed a piece of toast. "So... what do you want to talk to me about?"
I observed her expressions, trying to decipher some future comment, a possible scolding, or something like that. Aunt May seemed tired from work, but not completely, because nothing in this world had knocked that woman off her throne. The flawless blowout made me wonder once again if she had worked all day.
"Earlier today you looked through my things..." she began calmly. But only she remained calm, because I couldn't contain myself after that comment.
"I'm sorry, Aunt! I swear my intention wasn't to invade your privacy or anything like that!" I didn't let her continue. Just the mention of that morning's episode had already sent shivers down my arm.
"It's okay, Mila! Calm down! You didn't even let me finish..." I took a deep breath and waited silently. "Actually, what I was going to say was... I thank you for doing this today."
What?
"Calm down!" she said when I was about to speak. "I know what I'm saying might sound contradictory and even confuse you, but use the gift of patience I taught you and listen to me carefully."
I nodded and mentally prepared myself for the possibility of a conversation with a greater emotional weight than I was expecting.
"That photo you picked up was a picture of your parents from college. I don't know what came over me for not showing it to you all these years. The only thing I know is that I tried for a long time to seize every opportunity that came my way to keep your mother's existence in my memory" Obviously, she was your sister. I thought, not ironically, but with understanding. "I don't believe there's really such a radical boundary between you and me that we can't explain ourselves to each other. I'm your aunt, even though I raised you and was both your mother and your father. But the truth is, I would never be either of them, and I always knew that, but I didn't quite know how to make it clear to you."
Wow. I didn't know what to think. I only know that the emotional weight of the conversation surpassed all my expectations, and now even the tips of my toes were trembling. The level of the conversation had escalated very quickly.
"Your parents passed away when you were very young, and we never had a direct conversation about that fact, or about your feelings, or about our relationship as aunt and niece. So, I'm sorry for bringing this up so suddenly; you must be scared" she let out an awkward laugh. It was at that moment that I realized she was fighting back tears. "But it wasn't just what happened this morning that made me want to have this conversation. You've changed a lot lately. In the last two weeks, something inside you has transformed, and I can see it, even though I can't say exactly what. Mila, I love you, so I couldn't keep this to myself for long. I thought it was time for you to know what I really think and that I'm willing to listen to you and understand all your sides." We're a family: me, you, and Ned."
By that point I should have shed more tears than a baby, but I would never admit it out loud. I felt something soft brush against my leg. It was Ned, looking at me and comforting me in his own way.
“I never want you to think I’ve forgotten you or your feelings, never!” she continued. “You’re my adopted daughter, and I’m not ashamed to say that, not even to my coworkers! Believe it? Aurora and Jonathan know perfectly well that you’re Aunt May’s love!” We both laughed, our noses stuffy with emotion.
“Aunt May, I never thought that! Not even once!” I said with difficulty.
“Are you sure? You must have felt alone,” I nodded, wiping away the salty tears that were already running down my neck. “Thank you, Mila, for taking my keepsake box and that photo. If it weren’t for that, maybe it would have taken me a few more months to realize that you deserved an explanation, a conversation, a shoulder to cry on.”
I stood up and walked around the table, hugging her. I felt her trembling, fragile body. I smelled her comforting floral-woody perfume. I ran my hand through her soft, moisturized hair.
"You're already my shoulder to cry on," I said, and I felt her smile.
"If you want, sometime I can show you some other photos I have saved. Only if you want."
"I want to, Aunt May."
I replied, looking into her eyes. I couldn't have been more grateful at that moment. Grateful not for having invaded Aunt May's privacy earlier. Grateful not necessarily for her words, but for her existence and her tireless support since I was five years old.
I felt as if my heart were a test from the Universe. I felt like I was a little flower blooming for a serene late afternoon, to be embraced by the last rays of sunlight of the day.
I felt accompanied. Finally, I felt I had found a path to follow.