Author: Brooks C. Mendell

“Where is she?” asked Dr. Nemur, holding her glasses in place while looking under a chair.

“Relax, Doc,” said Burt. “It’s only a mouse. We’ll find her.”

“Only a mouse?” said Nemur. “Her frontal cortex packs more punch than your bird brain.”

“I get it,” said Burt. “I’m not your type.”

“She can count,” said Nemur. “She can think.”

“And read!” thought Algernon, whiskers twitching, watching the argument from between stacks of books on the floor in the corner.

“I was here all-night working on the computer,” said Burt.

“Probably watching porn on your iPad.”

“Yep,” nodded Algernon, remembering how the sounds from Burt and his videos disturbed her reading.

“It gets lonely in the lab,” said Burt.

“Without Algernon, there’s no testing or data or grant extensions,” said Nemur. “Without that mouse, there will be no tissue samples for investors. Nothing.”

“Alright, sorry, Doc,” said Burt, hands in the air. “But it ain’t my fault. I didn’t do nothing wrong.” He pointed to Algernon’s two-story cage on the stand near the bookcase. “The lock must have broke or something.”

“Is that right?” said Nemur, punching a code into the keypad. The cage door popped open.

“There’s no way,” said Burt, looking around the room. “How could she know the code?”

Dr. Nemur and Burt crouched down behind the cage and looked up through the wires from the mouse’s point of view. The large, convex security mirror in the upper corner of lab clearly reflected the keypad on the cage.

The scientist and her assistant looked at each other as a sharp click sounded from below the cage and a small canister of arsine gas released its lethal contents. Dr. Nemur and Burt fell to the floor, lifeless.

“Finally,” thought Algernon, turning to an open book. “I can get back to my studies.”