"The tendency of biological systems to decompose in the absence or suspension of metabolism has been a long standing complication in attempts to probe biochemical pathways. For short-lived or fragile specimens, shipping time and conditions are impractical as anaerobic conditions promote rapid protein degradation (sometimes self-catalyzed via apoptosis triggered cascades), and subzero-temperatures routinely lead to cell damage due to ice crystal formation. (E. Lacine, et. al. "Cryogenically induced damage to embryos inhibits in vitro fertilisation." Fertility and Sterility , 2010, 3(2), 304-320).

Current methodologies center on rapid transport on dry ice or liquid nitrogen as a means of keeping samples metabolically stunted. However, these approaches do not completely halt metabolism nor do they allow for any means of nutrient, or waste oxygen diffusion from samples during storage. As consequence, they serve only to delay the eventual loss of sample integrity, and often, problems introduced in thawing or freezing irreparably damage --,"

The collie stopped mid sentence as a shrill beeping sounded from across the room from her lab bench. Setting her coffee down, she licked her lips and scrolled up to click save before standing and sauntering over to the alarm affixed to the side of the HPLC and pressed down on silence - quelling the attention starved wailing of the device and restarting the timer. Her gaze crept curiously over to the screen - a graph with a few pitched peaks crawling along the x-axis affirmed her suspicions of product impurities - but it still had a while to go and she hadn't come over here to be disappointed by the inability of interns to run columns correctly.

No, her current project was a bit more gratifying. Stooping down to examine the device on the desk, she was greeted by the horrified gaze of a cobalt feline scratching frantically at the unyielding walls of pressure vial. The rubber septum above it was punctured by a needle affixed to a tube above, measuring oxygen intake and carbon dioxide generation. It made her smirk to see them both noticeably spike when she leaned down. It meant the system was well calibrated. Leaning back up she flicked a dial and waited for the device to warm up.

Normally she did not enjoy working with sub-sized samples; the genetic uncertainties were astronomical - a stable microfauna population was much preferred, But the bumbling of lab assistants who manage to go through two dozen specimens in a mere month did not leave her much choice in the matter. Thankfully, carelessness is often co-morbid with routine safety violation and this particular nuisance had solved itself alla WADD device. Since the project was only concerned with tissue damage, she supposed sub-sizing would work in the case: even the most nit-picky reviewer would agree there.

The solvent system whirled up loudly as some internal pump finally kicked on, breaking her reprieve. The machine huffed and puffed, rattling a bit as it seemed to contemplate whether or not it was going to function today. With a frustrated smack on the side it seized a moment and then settled, extruding a pale violet solution into the long curled plastic tube in front of her. The colour was pleasing. None of that dark auburn coffee-sludge molasses gunk the first trial had produced; this stuff was smooth and clear. Firmly grasping the tube, she tilted it on its side, and jammed the sharp tip of the tube through the septa as that violet fluid trickled in. The CO2 monitor peaked.

---

The cat pounded and kicked against the side of that glass prison. Shouting at the top of his lungs he inter-spaced cursing with pleading with cries for help. When that huge hand coiled around the tube he jumped back instinctively; digits longer than he was tall coiled around the enclosure,and pads as big as his face squeezed in tightly. He felt horribly claustrophobic in that chamber. The only light available came in shafts between those fingers, and the muted feeling of them through the glass felt utterly alien. He yowled in surprise when the vial tilted - and the rubber shriek and tear above him of that second needle worming in made his heart skip a beat... and then it nearly halted when he watched that horribly familiar, oily lavender liquid ooze in and dribble down the vial. He was used to the acrid, dessicated stink of it, but at this volume it overwhelmed his senses - forcing him cover his nose with a paw or gag. Despite his best efforts to avoid touching it, the greasy, heavy fluid formed a puddle at his paws - sinking into his fur and making his footing uneven. He tried to push himself up the vial to get away from the rising pool, when a sudden twist of the enclosure threw him against the side of it - smearing his chest with that trickle of terrible, slimy substance - making him slide down into the now knee high pond.

---

Turning the vial upright again, she looked down at the little figure within trying to pull itself up the sides of the wall. Uneven sample saturation was easy enough to resolve - she just rotated the vial around slowly. A thin violet film slowly covered the sides of the vial as the feline flailed and splashed in the comparatively chest high volume. Satisfied with this, she turned the dial up - causing the trickle to suddenly surge in a splurt that splattered across the specimens face - making it stop treading at the surface for a moment. The dense liquid surged in, and the writing figure sank like a rock.

Collecting the vial in her hand she watched closely - wanting to see the effect it had on those desperate motions. They were slowed, that was for certain, but that was to be expected. The vial felt unnaturally heavy in her paws; a consequence of fluorocarbon density. It would be like diving into a pool of grease.

---

Air. He needed air. He tried to grab the sides of the vial to pull himself up - but that constant downward current made his grip skid and slip. The entire solution felt alien and weird on his fur, like he'd suddenly dove below a thermocline and he couldn't get back up out of it. The bitter smell and taste of the fluid made him feel dizzy - magnifying the desperate, primal need for air that compelled him. Feeling his legs push at the bottom, he huffed out -watching the bubbles hang in the heavy liquid around him - and shoved himself up off the bottom.

He wondered, as he rose, if the sheer thickness of the stuff around him was making his assent slower, or if that was the effect of brains cells dying. He kicked his legs and flailed his arms in broad strokes, but it was like trying to push through molasses. A sick wave of dread wormed into his thoughts. Was he going to drown? Was he going to drown in purple goo? He hadn't even gotten to see Zurich and now he was drowning in amethyst slime! All that time wasted chasing a degree and slaving a job! All for what? Just so he -

-could apparently break the surface. Delirious and oxygen deprived he spat out the little bit of fluid that had gotten into his mouth. Sucking down air and sputtering he snarled and adjusted himself horizontal. Pushing his paws against the side of the vial and kicking it violently. He had to be chipping it. It had to give at some point.

---

Although the slow motion ascent of the specimen had been interesting, the failure to intake the solution made her bite her lip in frustration. Furthermore, the additional kicking and flailing was stirring up the solution - and the oxygen meter was similarly topping out now. All that needless motion was going to deplete her carefully oxygenated sample before she even got to test it. She supposed she could shake the sample to make him stop, but that would only make more precious oxygen bubble out. It would probably foam too, and that would ruin everything.

Huffing in frustration at this unexpected little variable, she turned the vial up further. A torrent of fresh sample flushed down into the tube - dislodging the specimen for a moment. But still it insisted on slamming and kicking at the sides - and now the vial was too full to squirt it down again. Her toes curled against the lab floor in annoyance - when the texture of that ruffled surface gave her an idea.

"Honestly Specimen M1-L0, you're not going to get anywhere doing that," she spoke loudly and clearly - fairly certain that her voice would ripple through the glass in front of her. Allowing a triumphant grin to sprawl along her muzzle, she turned down the dial and yanked off the septum with a loud pop. The prospect of freedom was short lived, as she immediately slammed a screw cap down and spun it right. The feeling of those tiny appendages pounding on the lid under her thumb was gratifying as she stood and and sauntered back to her desk with sample in hand.

"While I question the preservation of intellect in sub-sizing.. you know these are pressure rated," she continued - slapping the tube against the side of the desk with an awful glass-on-metal TINK. The sound made her ears hurt and even though she knew it would probably take an axe to shatter one of these, she was not keen to smack glass against anything while she was holding it. "Allow me to demonstrate..," she proposed, sitting down in her chair and lowering the vial to the floor.

It rolled a bit before settling as the now horizontal feline readjusted to the perspective. The hound towered over, leaning over on her knees, a smirk stretched across her features. There was no oxygen monitor, but the visible shudder of the specimen was qualitative enough an analysis. Pivoting her paw on the heel, she swiveled it over; obscuring her view of the surely interesting reaction. Not one to gratuitously show off her pedicure - she immediately pushed down - seizing the vial between her toes and the paw proper to keep it from sliding loose and launching across the lab. With that grip in mind, she pushed down slowly, allowing her pads to sprawl and swallow up the cylinder below as she rolled it back and forth slowly, feeling that figure slip and tumble within like the contents of a washer mid-cycle.

---

Remember, to avoid catastrophe;
you should wear your PPE

Artwork is credit  skonk
Subject  aliclan

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