"I've waited enough moments," Perriweather snapped. "Where?"
Dr. Morley stiffened at the rebuke but went to get a small cheesecloth-covered box on a shelf. As his hands touched it, they trembled. "Here," he said, his voice hushed and filled with awe as he removed the cloth.
Beneath it was a Plexiglas cube. Inside the cube was a piece of rotting meat. Sitting on top of the meat, feeding and lazily twitching, were two red-winged flies.
"A breeding pair?" Perriweather asked. "You got a breeding pair?"
"Yes, Mr. Perriweather."
Involuntarily, Perriweather gasped at the sight of the flies. He lifted the plastic cube with hands so gentle that the flies never moved from the piece of meat. He watched them from every angle, turning the cube this way and that, observing them from below and above and eye-to-eye, marveling at the stained-glass redness of their wings.
"Their wings are exactly the color of fresh human blood," he whispered.
As he watched, the two flies rose from the meat and briefly coupled in the air before settling back down. Almost to himself, Perriweather said, "If I could only find a woman who could do that."
For some reason, Dr. Dexter Morley felt vaguely embarrassed, like a Peeping Tom caught in the act. He cleared his throat and said, "Actually, the two flies are exactly like ordinary houseflies, except for the color of the wings. Musca domestica of the order Diptera."
"They're not exactly like houseflies," said Perriweather, casting a sharp glance at the scientist. "You didn't change that, did you?"
"No. No, I didn't."
"Then it's the ultimate life form," Perriweather said slowly, rotating the plastic cube as if it were a flawless blue-white diamond that he had just found in his backyard.
"Well, I wouldn't go that far," Dr. Morley said, fluttering his eyelids and attempting a weak smile.
"What would you know?" Perriweather hissed.
"Uh. Yes, sir. What I was about to say was that in most respects the species is an ordinary housefly. Shape and structure. Its eating habits are the same, which unfortunately makes it a disease bearer, although I believe that in time we could eliminate-"
"Why would you want to eliminate that?" Perriweather said.
"What? Its disease-bearing properties?" Perriweather nodded.
"Why . . ." The scientist shook his head. "Perhaps we are not communicating, Mr. Ferriweather. Flies do bear disease."
"Of course. If they didn't, there would be even more humans on earth today than we've already got."
"I ... er, I guess I see your point," Morley said. "I think. But still, Musca morleyalis is still a disease bearer and therefore dangerous."
"Musca morteyalis?" Perriweather asked. His face was expressionless.
Morley flushed. "Well, generally, discoveries such as these are attributed to the scientist who . . ."
Perriweather's face still showed no expression as he said, "Try Musca Perriweatheralis." Finally his face broke into a small smile.
The scientist cleared his throat. "Very well," he said softly.
"Why are their wings red?" Perriweather asked.
"Ah." The scientist flushed. He was more comfortable talking about biology than disputing names with his terrifying employer. "The amino acids developed in this species are, as I said, radically different from the ordinary housefly's. Not only in type, but in location. Apparently, that produced the genetic mutation that gave us the red wings. Naturally, when the experiments continue and we destroy these particular organisms, then we'll start to relocate the-"
"Destroy? Destroy what?" Perriweather's eyes blazed.
"Since we have all the paperwork, it really isn't necessary to keep the actual organisms, particularly since their respiratory systems are developed to a point that makes them incompatible with other forms of life."
"Meaning?"
"Meaning that these flies are immune to DDT, other pesticides and all poisons," Morley said.
"That was the point, wasn't it?"
"That was exactly the point," Perriweather said.
His eyes sparkled. "All pesticides?"
"All pesticides currently known. Allow me." He lifted the plastic cube from Perriweather's hands and placed it on the gleaming white lab table. Wearing rubber gloves, he inserted the gauze flycatcher into the box and withdrew one of the flies. Next he opened a small container from which a soft hiss issued. "Pure DDT," Morley said as he lowered the flycatcher into the container and closed the top.
"What's going to happen?" Perriweather asked anxiously.
"Absolutely nothing," Morley said. "There's enough pure pesticide in that-"
"Please don't refer to them as pesticides," Perriweather said.
"Sorry, there's enough DDT in there to kill a country full of flies. But notice the condition of Musca perriweatheralis." He pulled out the gauze flycatcher and covered the top of the box. Inside the gauze, the red-winged fly buzzed angrily. When he placed it back into the plastic cube, it darted straight for the piece of meat.
"He's still alive," Perriweather said.
"And unharmed," Morley added. "It can survive in an atmosphere of pure methane," the scientist said proudly. "Or cyanide. Or any poison you can think of."
"Then it's invincible."
"That's why it has to be destroyed," Morley said. "I'm sure you wouldn't want to risk having a creature like this loose in our atmosphere," he said. "As it is, the precautions I've taken with it have been enormous. But the danger grows as the pair breeds. If even one such fly gets out of this lab alive, it could significantly jeopardize the ecological balance of the planet."
"A fly that can't be poisoned," Perriweather said proudly.
"As you know, Mr. Perriweather, it is much more than that. There are the other things it does. Its ability to bite, for instance, unlike Musca domestica. And the result of its bites. You know, Mr. Perriweather, when I first came here to work, you promised that one day you would tell me how you had developed those initial mutations."
"Let's see the demonstration again," Perriweather said. Morley noticed that his employer was breathing hard.
"Must we?"
"We must," Perriweather said. His voice was a soft uninflected drone, almost like a buzz, but it chilled Morley more than shouting would have.
"Very well."
The scientist went to a far corner of the lab to a terrarium filled with salamanders. He took one out and brought it back to the plastic cube containing the flies.