Page 69 of Sucker For You

I haven’t observed any unusual research practices at MORI so far. Have you noticed anything in the bay?

His response arrived half a minute later.

Wes Monaghan (voice-to-text)

Nothing bad. Plenty good. One thing that’s weird. Tell you at lunch? Meet back at the Jeep in 15 minutes if you’re finished?

Wes

(Didn’t spot the orcas. Lots of nutrients in the water today. I could hear them, though.)

She confirmed the time. Then, with those last few minutes remaining to her in the facility while most of MORI’s personnel were distracted on the deck, she moved to the cephalopod hatching tank. Dr. Solomon wasn’t hovering over its squirming paralarvae. The octopus scientist hadn’t been on the deck with the other whale watchers, either. Where was she? Regardless, Isabel wouldn’t waste this precious opportunity. She advanced on the red-lit aquarium glass.

(“Days Since Hatching: 29”)

The semi-transparent two-spots wriggling in the water were no larger than her ragged thumbnail. But they’d already begun to anchor themselves against the tank’s simulated currents, to fix suckers smaller than pinpricks to the live rocks and pump equipment. Shadows of color flickered across their mantles. Not camouflage, but still:normal behavior. Counting arms was finicky work with the tiny subjects in their hundreds, though of the dozen or so she assessed, eight limbs seemed standard.

Unlike the migrating orca calf, none of these little cephalopods were scarred.

Her sigh of relief misted the glass. She smiled at an octopus dangling like a trapeze artist from a filter nozzle, its skin shimmering abalone-pink with curiosity about this strange object, about the mysterious capabilities of its own body, and—

“What are you doing?”

Drying her hands after a trip to the bathroom, Dr. Solomon was back.

“Oh. . . I—”

“No. Stop harassing the animals.” The scientist elbowed past to position herself between Isabel and the aquarium.

“I’m sorry.” Rocking onto the heels of her too-large boots, Isabel raised her palms as proof. “But I haven’t touched anything and I—”

“Keep out of my business.”

“I wasn’t, I was just—”

“Keep out.”

“—but. . . yes, sorry. I’m sorry.” She retreated to the lobby under Dr. Solomon’s scowl.

Brianne’s blonde eyebrows lifted over her computer when Isabel edged crabwise through the lab’s industrial door, flushed and awkward. “Oh, no. Your first shift was that bad? I warned you about the fish guts.”

“No, the—the effluvium was fine.” She brushed at damp splotches on her jeans. She swallowed and tried to retrieve her smile. “I enjoyed the work. The animals.”

Even the people hadn’t been too difficult.

“Then don’t tell me. Was it Dr. Solomon?”

Most of them, anyhow. . .She hesitated over something sticky on her right knee.

“Don’t take it personally. She’s territorial with everyone. You probably got too close to her tank. Or what she considers to be too close. Then she snapped at you like you were committing corporate espionage.”

It wasn’t a question, so Isabel didn’t answer.

“No one at MORI is supposed to work more than six days in any week, but she’s here for all seven with those octopuses most of the time. Even when there’s facilities maintenance happening in the lab and my contractors need the space, whenthere are safety compliance trainings for the staff, when—well, you understand.”

“Yes.”

What Isabel also understood was this: MORI’s facilities manager was monitoring Dr. Solomon too, even if Brianne’s watchfulness was rooted in irritation rather than Isabel’s own suspicions.