Seeing Mom.

I boarded the KyTech bus again and sat as far as I could from the other passengers. I re-read the crucial parts of my paper, going over my theory of altering the virus itself.

I had figured years ago that if we hadn't made a successful vaccine yet, we wouldn't be able to anytime soon. The entirety of my research was into altering the Shota virus itself, rendering its effects on the male body as null as they were on a female body.

I read my notes and findings over and over again but simply couldn't find anywhere where I had gone wrong. It all looked like it should've worked. The virus in my body should mutate over the next few months and eventually become innate. It would still reproduce and live within us, occasionally ripping apart a cell or two in the process, but otherwise a harmless parasite within humanity. Everything would go back to the way they were in the history books. True males and females fucking all over the world.

It seemed so close to being true. But alas, I had created a poison that knocked me out for a day and caused the most immense pain I'd ever experienced. Somewhere I'd fucked up, but I couldn't find where, and I needed a fresh pair of educated eyes. Discreet eyes, as I didn't really want to ruin my reputation in the genetics world.

And only one person came to mind. Mom. With as much as she had considered me a failure, she wouldn't blabber on about it to colleagues.

I stepped off the bus and rounded the street corner to see the massive Lancing Genetics Lab building. My mother had made a name for herself after her blunder of me and managed to become one of the top geneticists of the world. Her job at LGL was one of the reasons I had such a nice apartment and never had to worry about money.

I walked through the glass doors to the quiet hustle and bustle of LGL employees coming and going. Even for a Saturday, this place was always busy. They held almost every genetics contract governments had available. I approached the front desk and saw a very cute receptionist on the phone. Her little pixie cut bobbing as she nodded her head.

"Absolutely ma'am. Those records will be sent at once. Absolutely... Mm-hmm. Yes. Thank you!" She returned the phone to the desk. "Good afternoon, sir! Do you have an appointment?"

"Um, yes, well, actually no. I'm here to see my mother, Doctor Trista Hart." I stood there awkwardly waiting as she tapped away at her terminal before calling someone.

"Dr. Hart's son is here to see her." After a brief, inaudible response, she hung up and gestured to the elevators. "You may head up."

I managed to take two steps before she called for me to stop. "Sir, how old are you?" I paused and looked at her, confused. "It is company policy that anyone underage is accompanied-"

"Plus 13," I said and turned away.

"Oh my apologies, sir." She said with a smile, sitting down and returning to her work. I couldn't be mad at her; I've looked the same for the past several years. She's just doing her job. Still, interactions like these, as well as my ability to experience lust was one of the reasons I chose to follow in my mother's footsteps. Her experiment fixed whatever bit in my brain that controlled lust and was turned null thanks to the Virus.

In the elevator, I thought of how to explain my situation to her. How she'd respond and what to do afterward. I decided that I could never predict my mother that well and that I'd have to see what she said. A terrifying thought. Meeting my mother, unprepared.

She never really abandoned me, providing money and resources to me when I needed it, but Trista Hart was not a loving woman. To her, I was a failed experiment. One, she had **** but to keep close by a constant reminder of her own shortcomings.

I stepped off the elevator onto the 67th floor. Two floors under Ms. Lancing's giant office. I had only met her once before, but I think my mother hid me from her boss. Even with countless successes, her one big failure was still too embarrassing to have around.

I found my mother's office with ease as I'd been here multiple times in past years. Her secretary, Ms. Ayers, a tiny little woman, about my age as well as my stature. "Afternoon Greg! How are you?" She was cheerful, but very wound-up. Likely due to her position under my mother.

"I'm... alright, is she in?" I asked, gesturing to the door.

"Yes!" She said, standing up. "She just got out of one of the big-wig meetings." She began to pour a cup of coffee. She handed the steaming brown liquid to me. "Can you give this to her, please? Save me a trip."

"Yeah. Can do." I said, taking a sip and wishing for the caffeine to kick in fast.

"Ooooh, uh, she won't be happy you drank her coffee." Ms. Ayers said, worried.

"Is she ever happy?" I asked. The little woman didn't react. "Relax," I assured her. "If she's gonna be mad at anyone today, I assure you it'll be me."

She opened her mouth to speak but failed to find words. She returned to her terminal and worked nervously. I sighed and took another sip. The warm drink felt good, cascading down my insides. "Here goes," I whispered, pushing open the frosted glass doors.

My mother sat at her desk and looked up from her terminal at me. She stared with her forever blank expression, somehow still filled with utter disappointment. She powered down her holo-display leaving her glass desk virtually empty.

"Hey... mom," I said awkwardly, breaking the silence. I hadn't properly seen her in months.

"Hello, son." She responded dryly. The silence in the air was suffocating. Finally, she spoke again, "Your friend was looking for you."

"Yeah, I talked to her today..." I took a sip of the coffee to ease my nerves.

"Is that my coffee?" She asked.

"Oh, yeah," I said, taking a few steps forward. She held up her hand and activated the intercom. "Ms. Ayers, bring me another cup of coffee."

"Yes, ma'am! Right away!" She responded in haste. She burst in seconds later and hurried to the desk. She sat down a fresh cup, and hurried out, scowling at me.

I winced and mouthed, Sorry!

Silence perturbed the room once more after the door shut behind the tiny secretary. "Why are you here?" She finally asked.

"Well..." I stepped forward and sat in the chair in front of her desk. "I need your help." I whipped out my phone and pushed my research to her display.

She looked at it briefly before returning her gaze to me. "Your failed dissertation. Why-"

"Mom, would you just look at it! They didn't even bother to, before writing it off as if I were just a schmuck off the street trying to sell snake oil as the Shota Cure." I sighed. "I'm pretty sure it's mostly plausible findings, but there is something in there that's wrong, and I can't find it." I turned, avoiding her gaze.

She paused and directed all her attention to me. "If you can't find it, then how do you know-"

"Because, I-" I stopped, almost regretting going to her, "I drank my prototype solution." I breathed.

"You WHAT?" She exclaimed.

"I know! I know! It was a stupid-"

"That is the most UNINTELLIGENT thing you have ever-" She gasped and was utterly dumbfounded.

"I was angry, and I wanted to prove them wrong- I just-"

"I can't believe you'd- wow! I thought I'd raised you better than th-"

"RAISED ME?!" I stood up and yelled incredulously, turning to her. Her face was no longer blank or baffled, but instead, shocked and filled with guilt. I felt the anger leave my face, and I loosened the fists I had made. My scabs stung from being crushed by my nails.

I stared at the floor. "Look, can you just... look it over and tell me if whatever I made is going to kill me?" I asked. My pain was still there, but I let go of my anger, for now.

She breathed and relaxed, as well. "Yes, Greg, I will look at it." She agreed softly.

"Thank you." I breathed, before turning and walking to the door. I looked back and saw her face. A face of love, care, and worry. On her, it looked... foreign.