Pilar paced in her small room. She’d left to do her nightly tests of new samples to ensure the mutation wasn’t discovered by any of her colleagues. She’d spent time in the mess with the trio of men she’d befriended–though Marsh had made no further attempts to move their relationship beyond friendship, and she hadn’t had a drop to drink. Other than that, she spent most of the three days following the failed trip to the hex wing in her room, resting. Her body was no longer sore. But her mind still reeled.

She had no way of knowing if Twyla was really okay or not. Nicola said she was fine. But the voice had said it was a lie. It whispered in her ears all day and all night. Kind words, comforting words. And explanations. Reasons why the hexes were so adamant about keeping her out. Reasons why they would harm Twyla. Reasons why Nicola would bow to their will, keeping their secrets.

They knew. They knew she had discovered their secret. And they knew she intended to use it for herself.

That’s what the voice said, anyway.

So she paced, putting off her return to the lab. Then she stopped, throwing her hands up. “What does it matter? It didn’t work. I tried when I remembered what happened to Twyla.”

“Their stun didn’t affect you as harshly as it should have.”

“So?” she said, shaking her head, gripping her hair and pulling in an attempt to ground herself.

“Try again.”

“I’ve been trying!” But to placate it, she snapped her fingers, imagining the puppy Twyla had created.

The soft clicking of paws on metal had her whirling around to find the familiar mop of curly grey and white fur, panting and yipping, bounding toward her.

She squeaked a breath of disbelief, staring a moment before falling to her knees, the dog bouncing upon her folded thighs and licking the hands she brought up to greet it. As she provided copious pets to the grateful, nuzzling pup, a ridiculous laugh burbled up. It began slow, breathy, then turned into deep belly laughs that had her falling forward, tears in her eyes, the dog scrambling out of the way.

“Now the fun begins.”

#

“Project Crispy.”

Nicola looked up from the holoscreen she was pointing at, showing one of the techs which sample needed to be redone and why. “Hmm?”

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“I’ve named my study. Project Crispy,” Pilar repeated with a huge grin.

Nicola murmured further instruction to the tech, who tapped the air in front of him, adding notes, then she turned to grab Pilar by the elbow, guiding her toward her office. “Don’t tell me. I want to guess.”

The women took their usual seats, though Pilar leaned far back in hers, propping her heel upon the desk and crossing her ankles with her hands behind her head.

Nicola laughed. “That rest got you feeling too good, I think.” The other woman only winked. “Anyway, Crispy. Let’s see…you were hungry when you decided? Your love of fried chicken clouding your judgement?”

“Nope.”

“Okay…” She pressed her fingertips together, tilting her head down with her eyes closed. After a moment, she popped up. “You just completely copied off of me, didn’t you?”

Pilar laughed. “I prefer to think of it as emulating you.”

Nicola nodded, smiling. “Project Trims named after TRIM5 because it attempts to discover the beneficial mutation that gives hexes their powers. Project Crispy named after CRISPR because it attempts to correct harmful mutations?”

Pilar tapped her nose. “It’s almost like they put you in charge because you’re brilliant and good at what you do,” she teased.

“Flattery will get you everywhere,” the older woman said, motioning as if flipping back her hair, though it was pulled back into a tight bun as always.

The women shared a laugh, then began more logistics talk that was cut short by the amount of work that had piled up while Pilar was taking her leave.

In fact, she remained in the lab until the wee hours of the morning, focusing on Project Crispy but taking time out to do her usual conspiratorial work related to Trims. When she was satisfied she’d caught up enough to call it a night, the mainframe connected to the nanobot canisters whirred to life.

“Do you not think it fate that you were reassigned to a study on correcting mutations just as you discovered what gives hexes their powers and that you now have those same mutations within your DNA?”

Pilar licked her lips, eyes on the mainframe. Then her attention flicked toward the flammables cabinet. Then to the freezer where the deadly gas that snuffed out Florence’s life was kept. “So I can remove it? Go back to normal?”

“So you can remove it, yes. But not on you, Pilar.”

She swallowed, taking slow steps toward the mainframe. She lifted her hands slowly, poised to begin coding, then hesitated.

And turned the machine off.

“I’m going to sleep.”

“Crispy is not named only for CRISPR, is it, Pilar?”

Rolling her eyes, she ran her tongue between her teeth and lip. “What else would it be for?”

“Crispy, like the bodies of those who get in your way. Crispy, like the hexes will be for falling within the path of your fiery wrath.”

She shook her head, walking toward the exit.

“Twyla would have sent something by now to alleviate your worry.”

She stopped.

“If she had the breath or body to do so.”

Pilar thought for a long moment, then snapped her fingers, imagining the girl. Nothing happened.

Then she imagined her room, and snapped them again, only to find herself next to her bed.

“You see? Your powers are not the issue.”

As much as she wanted to believe otherwise, it had a point. But she was exhausted.

“I’m going to sleep,” she repeated, slipping in the bathroom to ready herself for bed.

The voice didn’t protest, but as she lay awake, tossing and turning, she knew something must be done. She couldn’t live like this.

Ripping off her covers, she snapped her fingers to find herself back in the lab. The mainframe was already pulled up to the program she needed, the screen bright. Her fingers silently flew across the holoscreen, writing a new code. Not one to create the hex mutation, but one to destroy it.