Biogen

The sun cast an eerie glow. The crystalline blue skies echoed the beautiful brightness of the day. A light, southwesterly wind swept the city, adding coolness to the bright May day.

*"Who Killed Tom Chase?"* thought Darra, a full-sized woman in her mid-twenties, as she stared dreamlike in front of the rigid glass skyscraper bearing the name: *Gentech*. The wide gray steps led to one gigantic rotary door. Behind the door stood two guards dressed in full uniform. Outside the Boston building, stood a long gray concrete bench. Darra moved towards the bench.

The question tortured her. The investigative crew claimed that Tom Chase had committed suicide. She opened his office door a week ago, and saw him hanging listlessly be an animal holding rope. After his death, the investigative experts revealed that Tom had a long record of mental illness. Tom often withdrew from crowds, and became more anti-social approaching his untimely death. In addition, the crew found a yellow suicide letter in Tom's left pocket, written in his own handwriting and penned in blue ink. The evidence proved very adequate.

Content with the surmountable evidence, Darra reassured herself, "Of course Tom Chase killed Tom Chase." Darra realized that her answer sounded quite awkward, but in the case of suicide, a person would kill himself, or herself.

But the thought came back again, stronger.

Darra became angry at this seemingly innocent question. Couldn't she understand that Tom had committed suicide? But she had doubts. Her mind flashed back to the Tuesday night of Tom's death. Upon entering the shadowy, dimly lit room, she remembered smelling a light scent of chlorine. Tom's clothes, a simple smock labcoat, white shirt and brown trousers, hung wrinkled on him, in disarray. He appeared that someone else had dressed him. The moonlight escaped through the side of the vertical blind, and shone a cold, bluish bright light, that illuminated Tom's face. She remembered staring into the bloated grayish-blue face of whose vacant eyes seemed to ask the question: "Why did they kill me, Darra?" Sure, Tom may have had mental problems, but from working with him, Darra strongly doubted that Tom would ever do anything like commit suicide.

*"Who killed Tom Chase?"* demanded her conscience for a third time.

"Darn it, I don't know!" frustratingly screeched Darra, and kicked the concrete bench next to her. The bench made a muffled thud.

"Darra, you must get a grip on yourself," cheerfully pepped Igina, with a slight tone of concern. Igina, a short, athletic, African-American female wore black and white stripped jogging shorts, with a yellow body shirt.

Igina ceased jogging and continued. "Why don't you come with me to the gym, Darra? I know that Tom's death hit us all hard. We miss him. But you have to remember that Tom had schizophrenia. I mean, the guy had a very high intellect, but he didn't do well in personal relationships. So how could we have known that Tom would commit suic---"

"Doesn't matter, Tom's dead now. Don't think anyone knew him that much anyhow. He sort of, just blended in with the crowd. He went crazy after working on that *Biogen* project. Started mumbling and babbling about a humanoid fish-boy that sounded like something out of a sci-fi movie. Poor Tom. Man, Darra, he just scared me, and just about the whole research department as well. You don't want to join him, Darra, do you, because you look a bit pale." amusedly interjected the callous Cruler Powers and shook his head. His blue eyes glowed with slight amusement at his dark humor.