Research and Forethought

The room was dark and quiet, each curtain had been stapled to the wall to prevent even the smallest stream of light from peaking through the cracks. The dark outlines of chairs and all manner of furniture stood out against the grey walls of the apartment. Mira sat upright in her bed, surrounded by the absolute darkness. Good thing I got rid of that horrid white paint on the walls, Mira thought as she remembered how bright and open the apartment had been when she first moved in a few months back. The place was now the perfect environment for her research. There had been too many distractions surrounding her. Even the outside world had proven to be a distraction.

Sighing, she swung both legs from under the warm, soft sheets of her bed as her body yearned to relieve itself. She would not have left the familiarity of the warmth of her bed if it was at all avoidable. The cold tile floor beneath her toes sent a shiver down her spine. She contemplated if the urge of nature's call could be tamed enough for another few minutes. The floor was cold, too cold.

After a few minutes marked by the dimly lit letters on the electric clock, Mira could not hold out much longer. Slowly, she eased her feet back down onto the floor much like one would when entering the chilly water of a swimming pool. Using the wall as a guide, she made her way to the bathroom.

Flush.

Mira lifted the handle to the faucet, sending a stream of lukewarm water rushing into the metal basin. She pumped three squirts of unscented soap onto her hands and rubbed them together. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, eighteen, nineteen, twenty. The CDC recommends lathering soap for at least twenty seconds in order to properly wash your hands.

This fact echoed in Mira’s mind as she scrubbed under her nails and knuckles as she counted to twenty. She reached her freshly cleaned hand up to the light switch but paused as her fingers brushed the cool plastic. According to the NSF, light switches are a common breeding ground for bacteria. Mira withdrew her finger from the switch.

Breeding grounds for infection.

Six-fifty. The dull red numbers on the clock blinked periodically. Time for her daily scouring of the internet for new diseases and their causes, immunity, and bacteria. She was searching for that one gem, a needle in a haystack, that would provide her with a breakthrough.

Mira sat down at her ancient, boxy desktop computer and waited patiently as it booted up. The desktop Windows chime accompanied a flash of bright blue light emanating from the screen. She winced, squinting her eyes as the onset of another migraine was triggered. The walls surrounding her were bathed in the computer's comforting glow. She typed in her password and was directed to the page she had not finished reading last night. She grabbed the overused plastic water bottle from its permanent residence next to the computer. Her fingers traced over the small, circular sticker that read, “Harvard College of Medical Sciences” in bold, red letters. Back to research.

She clutched her head in agony. The migraine had begun to worsen. She had investigated every website, academic paper and library resource she could find but still, the answers had eluded her. There was such an abundance of facts she had not yet found but, the ones she had were constantly echoing in her mind. Germs, immunity, breeding grounds, immunology. Her research had begun to warp her sense of reality and seize control of her mind. All she could think about was the need for this information. She could no longer concentrate as her vision began to grow blurry. Irritated, Mira turned off the computer and tip-toed to her bed. The less movement she made, the less her temples and nerves in her eyes would be set ablaze.

 How is this even possible? Mira thought as she started at the back of her eyelids. What new information could there possibly be that I haven’t found yet?

“Ugh,” she moaned angrily and put the alarm clock face down so it would not increase her sense of guilt any further. “I am so behind. Everyone has finished already.” She said as she felt her face grow hot and her eyes well up with tears.

There was no reason she could not continue with her research. She needed this vital piece of information to push her project to the finish line. To earn her the top score of her class. She just had to finish what she had started. Every distraction was out of sight or removed entirely. No phone, television or even the sight of cars driving up and down the street in front of her apartment. Everything was to be blocked out in order for her to focus. All she needed was to…focus.

“I don’t know how to focus…I can’t concentrate,” Mira cried as she buried her face into her now wet pillow. Her work needed to be accomplished, new ideas needed to be rediscovered and facts needed to be regurgitated in a pleasing and academic-sounding way onto a Word document. The stress was beginning to become unbearable.

She pressed her palms into her eyes to try and block out the sensation. Pink eye, viruses, bacteria. The facts she had found from her research began to seep back into the forefront of her mind. The final thesis project had begun to take a toll on her physical and mental health. The research had become a part of her now. The information she learned over the past months was now embedded in her brain, burrowing deeper into her subconscious. Her dreams were of bacteria growing on light switches and every kind of virus bombarding her immune system… or was that the truth of reality? Microscopes, lab coats, treatments.

Perhaps the project was meant to make her into an expert on the subject. If only she hadn’t chosen medicine.