Tumble Hitch: A Novel About Life in Science

187 Pages·2018·2.696 MB·English

by  Pernille Rørth

Pernille Rørth
TUMBLE
HITCH
A Novel About Life in Science
Tumble Hitch
Pernille Rørth
Tumble Hitch
A Novel About Life in Science
PernilleRørth
Bisley,Stroud,UK
ISBN978-3-319-97363-0 ISBN978-3-319-97364-7 (eBook)
https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-319-97364-7
LibraryofCongressControlNumber:2018952465
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Acknowledgements
IwouldliketothankHalldorStefanssonandKaiSimonsforusefuldiscussionson
narrative in science. I would also like to thank Christian Caron, my editor, for his
timeandeffort—andSteve,foreverything.
v
Contents
PartI TheNovel
TumbleHitch. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 3
PartII TheEssay
NarrativeandItsUsesinScience. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 175
vii
Part I
The Novel
Tumble Hitch
Chapter 1
“Stopthetorture!Stopthetorture!”
Therewasnoavoidingthem.Hekepthiseyesontheplacardtothefarleftasit
wasbouncingupanddownwiththerhythmofthechant.Itshowedakitten.“Ifeel
pain too!” was written below, incongruously. Just as he got close, the cat-suited
person holding the placard spun it around to show the all-too-familiar picture: a
terrified cat, its head partially shaved and locked in a steel contraption, electrodes
stickingoutoftheskull.Helookedaway.Purereflex.Thechantwenton.
Hefinallyreachedthelargeglassdoorandgaveitahardpull.Itwaslocked.He
looked over his shoulder. The cat-person turned toward him. The furry suit had a
smearofredpaintacrossit,butthecolorwasoff.Themaskwasdisturbing,though,
expressionless but for the flittering eyes in the dark holes. He tried the other door.
Same result. The slightest bit of panic crept in, even though he knew it made no
sense.Oneofthesecurityguardswasstandingrightinsidethedoorandspottedhim.
Hepointedtohischest,no,tohisdangling accesscard. Peterunderstood.Heused
hisowncardtoopenthedoorandsteppedinside.
“Quitearacketoutthere.”Hesaidtotheguard.Hecouldn’tseethenametag.
“BeenatitsincebeforeIgotin.”Theguardshookhisheard.“SirGeraldhasbeen
informed.Iexpecthe’llbecallingthepolice.Getitsorted.”
Peter nodded and looked back at the small group of protestors—the cats, the
rabbitsandevenamonkey.Fromwherehewasstandingnow,noneofthemlooked
menacing.Acoupleofthesuitswereincompletely zippedupandheldtogetherby
safety pins. He could still hear their chant, but it was muffled. He noticed Carol
approachingfromtheoutside.Shelookedfierceandunstoppable.Huifenwasright
behind her, looking apprehensive. He held up his access card for Carol to see and
pointed to the door. She gave a brisk nod and moved toward it, grabbing Huifen’s
armontheway.
©SpringerNatureSwitzerlandAG2018 3
P.Rørth,TumbleHitch,https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-319-97364-7_1
4 TumbleHitch
What do those idiots think this will accomplish? Peter thought angrily. A few
touristshadalreadystartedsnappingpicturesofthespectacle.Yes,Geraldwouldget
itsorted.
—
“Goodmorning,everyone.Shallwegetstarted?”Geraldenteredtheconference
roomwithhisusualten-minutedelay.“Wehavequiteabitofgroundtocovertoday
andI’msureeveryoneiseagertogetbacktowork.”
“At least to get away from this steam bath.” Hans whispered to Peter. They
alwayssatnexttoeachotheratthesemeetings.Withtheirfaircoloringandsimilar
height, people sometimes mistook them for brothers, or at least countrymen. They
rarelybotheredtocorrectthemistake.Hanswasheavierandhadlesshair,soPeter’s
sevenextrayearswerenotobvious.Todaytheysatasfarfromthesunnywindowsas
they could. The idiosyncrasies of the advanced air-conditioning system in the
building had been a popular topic ever since they moved in. Fortunately, most of
the thirty-odd people in the room followed the relaxed dress code of academic
research.AllexceptGeraldandBill.
“Will someone open the bloody windows?” Bill growled from the opposite
corner. “Please.” He added,belatedly. Lucaswas upfrom his seat already. He had
comeinjustbeforeGeraldandhadhadtotakeaseatonthesunnyside.Bythetime
he had opened the second window, it was clear that it would be temporary. The
chantingwasloudandclear.
“Stopthetorture!Stopthetorture!”
It sounded like the same six or eight voices as earlier, with a background of
generalmurmuring,possiblyanassembledaudience,andtraffic.Peterwonderedif
theywerestillwearingtheircostumes.Evenintherelativecoolofthemorning,they
hadlookedhot.Heleanedforwardtoliberatehisshirtfromthebackofthechairand
addedananswertosevendownonthecrosswordpuzzlediscreetlyinsertedinHans’
notebook.Hansmadea“notbad”expression.
“Howaboutwegetridofthoseraucousprats?”Billcontinued.“Gerald,haveyou
consideredcallingthepolice?”Thetoneofcasualchallengewasnotunusual.Why
hekeptatit,Petercouldnotunderstand.
“Ihavediscussedthesituationwiththepolice,”Geraldrespondedcalmly,“with
thechairofourboard,andwithSue.”HenoddedinSue’sdirection.“Wethinkthe
bestapproachistoletthembe,fornow.AtMoyden,theytriedaforcefulremoval.If
youremember,theresultingnews-clipofayoungfemaleprotestorsplashedwithred
paintandmanhandledbythepolicedrewpublicsympathyfortheprotesters,notfor
theinstitute.We’drathernotrepeatthathere.”
“Butwedon’tdoanyofthathere—cats,primates.”Akirasaid.“Dowe?”Akira
wasnewinHans’sectionandhadprobablyneverseentheanimalfacility.
“No,wedon’t.”Carolanswered,quicklyandfirmly.Petercouldn’tseeherface.
She was sitting not far from Gerald, on their side of the table. “But we do have
rabbits. My lab has a couple of projects on early development. And there’s the
in-house antibody production. Luckily, with the new containment system
unauthorized access is pretty much impossible. Silly kids. Bleeding hearts, brains
onhold.”
Chapter1 5
“Inanycase,”Geraldcontinued,“ifyoudopassbythesespiritedyoungpeople
whenyougoout,pleasebepolite.Orsaynothing.Noarguing,please.Noprovoking
them.Theydon’tseemtohavefoundtheparkinggarageentrance,sousethatifyou
prefer. Now, Lucas, if you could—“he nodded at the two open windows”—and I
willtrytomakethismeetingshort.”
Therewasageneralmumblingofassentasthewindowswereclosed.
“Asyouallknow,thewrittenmaterialfortheinstitutereviewinNovemberisdue
bytheendofthedaytoday.”Geraldcontinued.“Pleasehandyourcompletedossier
to Shirley before five p.m., if you haven’t done so already: C.V., the write-up of
researchaccomplishmentsandplansforyourgroup,withthreeselectedreprints.”
“Whysofarinadvance?”Daryasaid,withsomeirritation.“Ihavetwopapersstill
underreview.”
“That’sjusthowit’sdone.Butdon’tworry—youcanupdateyourC.V.lateron.”
Geraldexplainedhow.
Peter smiled to himself. He had already given Darya feedback on her write-up.
Shehadnothingtoworryabout,whetherherlatestworkwasinpressornot.Buthe
knewherfinalversionwouldnotbehandedinuntilsixp.m.,whenShirleypacked
upfortheday.ThesameforLucas.LucashadalsoaskedCarolforfeedback,Peter
knew. Smart. She understood the mouse aspect better than he did. For both Darya
andLucas,itwastheirfirstreview.Theyhadalottoprove.
—
He took the garage exit on the way out, but returned the usual way from the
sandwichshop.Simpleforceofhabit.Oncehewascloseenoughtoseethem,italso
seemed silly to change course. Some of the animal suits had been abandoned and
half of the masks were off. The chant started up again as he approached. A young
manbrokefromthegroupandmovedrapidlyatanangletoPeter,asifdeterminedto
intercepthimbeforehereachedthebuilding.Agirl,orayoungwoman,noticedthe
moveandfollowedhim.Peterdidnotchangehisstrideandtriedhisbesttomaintain
afriendlysmile.Heknewhisheightcouldbeintimidatingtosomeandthismanwas
on the slight side. As they got closer, Peter noticed that he was not actually that
young,earlythirtiesperhaps.Hisexpressionmatchedtheintensityofhisapproach.
Thegirlfollowinghimwastwentyorso,aboutthesameheightasthemanandhad
blondhairinaponytail.Shewalkedfastandhadalmostcaughtupbythetimethe
manreachedPeter.Shelookedapprehensive.
“We know what you do in there. Torturing innocent animals. You should be
ashamedofyourselves.”
“We don’t—” Peter started, then stopped. He also stopped walking. The man
stoppedafewfeetaway,thegirlnexttohim.Themanhadthelookofsomeonehoping
tobeprovoked.Peterswallowedhiswords,resethissmileandheldouthishand.
“Peter Dahl. I work at the Codon Institute, as you may have guessed. I study
memoryinfruitflies.”
“Fruitflies?Whatthebleeding...”
“Tina.”Thegirlinterruptedhim,andshookPeter’shand.“AndthisisAlistair.”
Alistair shook hands as well, stumped for the moment. “We are not protesting
science in general,” the girl continued rapidly, “but we know that some scientists