Mimicry

Fiona clenched her jaw so hard she thought a molar might crack. The frosted glass of the lab offered little solace. Above the knee-high barrier, the scene unfolding inside was nothing short of a bio-horror comedy, a grotesque parody starring… well, starring her.

“Jordan,” she said, her voice tight, barely a whisper. “Tell me I’m hallucinating. Tell me that gene sequencer fumes have finally fried my brain.”

Jordan was struggling not to outright laugh. He was holding his tablet, recording the monstrosity inside, a bemused expression on his face. "Afraid not, Fiona," he managed, his voice laced with an uncomfortable mix of mirth and ‘scientific’ curiosity. "That's… well, that's quite the impressive display of accelerated growth and quorum sensing."

their latest experiment had taken a turn for the spectacularly…awkward. The sample, a genetically modified strain of bioluminescent bacteria, had indeed exhibited quorum sensing. Its ability to communicate and coordinate behavior based on bacterial population density was astounding. They'd been expecting complex patterns, perhaps even rudimentary structures.

Yet, impressive wasn't exactly the word Fiona would use. Mortifying was closer. Traumatizing, perhaps. Inside the lab, a pulsating, glistening blue mass dominated the culture chamber. It had, overnight, blossomed… or rather, grotesquely sprouted into a disturbingly accurate, disturbingly nude, replica of Fiona. It was made of some kind of viscous, dripping slime, and its ‘breasts’  were pressed flat against the glass, the nipples puckered and erect.

The slime had coalesced into her recognizable face, complete with a slightly exaggerated version of her high cheekbones and narrow nose. Its eyes, however, were blank and unseeing, more like polished sapphires than human eyes. The likeness extended down the body, a bizarre parody of feminine curves formed from the dripping, mobile blue substance. While undeniably attractive, felt grotesquely objectified. 

“Okay,” Fiona said, her voice rising an octave. “Okay, so it’s real. It’s actually real. And now it’s… doing that to the glass.”

The "that" she referred to was a rhythmic, undulating movement against the glass. The slime-Fiona was essentially dry-humping the observation window, its simulated lips parted in a silent, unsettling moan.

Jordan cleared his throat, fiddling with his glasses. "It seems," he began, choosing his words with extreme caution, "that the sample has… uh… fixated on a particular set of data. Given the...circumstances... last night."

Last night. Wine. The gene sequencer humming in the background. And a series of decisions that now felt monumentally ill-advised. Fiona’s face flamed. She'd thought the frosted windows offered sufficient privacy. Clearly, she was wrong. Terribly, horribly wrong.

“You’re telling me,” she hissed, “that this… blue abomination… is recreating what it witnessed last night? In excruciating, slimy detail?” It pressed its ‘hands’ against the glass, mimicking the way Fiona had braced herself against the same pane last night.

“Not entirely… it clearly didn't see your feet…. But Its quorum sensing is off the charts,” Jordan said, his eyes glued to the tablet. “The cellular communication is unlike anything I’ve ever seen. It’s as if the sample has developed a rudimentary form of… mimicry.”

"Mimicry?" Fiona spluttered. "Mimicry? It's mimicking our sex life! In front of God and everyone!" She gestured wildly at the observation window. Behind them, she knew, was the main lab area, and while most of the team was at the conference in Zurich, there were still a few post-docs and technicians milling about. The thought of them catching a glimpse of this… this blue obscenity… made her want to crawl into a hole and die.

The slime-Fiona pressed harder against the glass, leaving a trail of glistening blue slime in its wake. Its simulated hand, a grotesque approximation of her own, reached up and smeared the slime across its simulated cheek. It looked… vacant. And yet, undeniably, disturbingly… sexualized.

“We need to do something,” Fiona said, her voice trembling. “We need to kill it. Burn it. Nuke it from orbit. Anything to make it stop existing!”

"Hold on, Fiona!" Jordan protested, his eyes wide. "This is a scientific breakthrough! We can't just destroy it! The implications for bio-mimicry, for advanced cellular communication… this could revolutionize medicine, engineering, everything!"

"Revolutionize medicine?" Fiona repeated, incredulous. "By creating an army of naked, blue slime versions of me? I think I'll pass."

The slime-Fiona, apparently tiring of its futile attempts to seduce the glass, pulled back slightly. It tilted its head, its blue eyes focusing intently on Fiona. Then, it began to manipulate the slime around its mouth, forming… words.

In an odd watery sounding voice it began “Oh…OH,oh oh YES!” It was crude, simple, and utterly mortifying. “FUck me Harder! Yesssss, omnnnggnnnnnn”

Fiona's jaw dropped. "Did it just…?"

Jordan burst out laughing, clutching his stomach. "I can't believe it! It's quoting you! From… last night! Oh, this is too much!"

Fiona glared at him, her cheeks burning with shame and anger. "This is not funny, Jordan! This is a nightmare! AND i’m telling you now You're NOT sleeping with this thing!"

"Hey, I'm just saying," Jordan choked out between gasps of laughter, "if it's going to be around, I might as well get to know it better. And who knows, maybe it's a better listener than you are."

The slime-Fiona, sensing an opportunity, pressed itself against the glass again, its blue eyes filled with a pleading expression. It began to lick the surface of the glass, its movements becoming increasingly suggestive. And it’s tongue lengthened a bit too long.

Fiona turned away, unable to bear the sight any longer. "I can't deal with this…. Dispose of IT and the sample! I'm going to get a drink. A very strong drink."

She stormed off down the hallway, leaving Jordan to his morbid fascination with the bio-engineered abomination that was currently still trying to seduce him through a pane of glass.

As she walked away, she could hear Jordan’s laughter echoing behind her, mixed with the soft, wet sounds of the slime-Fiona’s increasingly desperate advances.