The Scientific Method
by Robert Garner McBrearty
Henderson and I walked up a valley, with brush to either side of the trail. His eyes scanned right and left as if he was worried something might spring from the brush. Henderson, my lab partner and hiking friend, did not like being surprised. Whether hiking or in the lab, he was methodical, cautious, competent, but lacking in imagination. He knew that about himself, and it bothered him. He was afraid that he would miss out on something, be left behind by new scientific methods.
Just now he was frowning at the profusion of coyote scat on the trail. “I’ve never seen so much of it on this trail,” he said. “From the red in it, it looks like they’ve been eating lots of berries.”
“I see meat mixed in too,” I said.
He stared more intensely at the brush. “There’s something else wrong,” he said. “Look at the size of it. I’ve never seen such big coyote scat before.”
“Maybe it’s not coyotes? Mountain lions, maybe? Bears?”
“No, it’s coyotes. But big. These are super-sized coyotes,” he said with alarm. “It’s not natural.”
“Hybrids? Genetically engineered?”
Just then the brush ahead moved as if swept by a wind, and three very large coyotes trotted onto the trail. As Henderson said, they were super-sized, bigger than wolves. Their fur bristled and they lowered their heads and moved slowly toward us. Their lips pulled back and showed their fangs.
“My God,” Henderson gasped. He was not imaginative, but he could put a puzzle together. “What have you done?”
The hypodermic needle was already in my hand, and I plunged it into his neck. He twitched, grabbed at me weakly, then slid to the ground, motionless.
I backed away as the coyotes hovered over him. We seemed to understand each other. After all, I had created them. Henderson would have caught on too soon and exposed my research. I would need to break the news carefully, in the best scientific journals. I didn’t want to raise any undue concerns. I turned and ran now, as flesh and bones began to tear.
Robert Garner McBrearty is the author of five books of fiction, most recently a collection of flash fiction When I Can’t Sleep (Matter Press). His stories have appeared widely including in the Pushcart Prize, Missouri Review, Fiction International, MoonPark Review, Laurel Review, Fractured Lit, North American Review, and previously in the Journal of Compressed Creative Arts. His writing awards include a Sherwood Anderson Foundation Fiction Award and fellowships from MacDowell and the Fine Arts Work Center.
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What surprising, fascinating stuff can you tell us about the origin, drafting, and/or final version of “The Scientific Method”? My son is a scientist, and we have had conversations about the nature of research, what constitutes reliable research, and how some experimentation, in the wrong hands, might lead to risky results. One morning, I took a walk in the countryside, and I noticed an enormous amount of animal scat on the path. Somehow this connected with those conversations about research, and my mind concocted a scenario where there was something sinister about all this scat. I hoped that the conversation between the two scientists in the story would represent differing points of view and foreshadow the macabre ending. Of late, I’ve been watching some Masterpiece Mystery shows, so some of my recent stories seem influenced by the mystery genre. On the walk home, I was already writing the story in my mind.
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Matter Press recently released titles from Meg Boscov, Abby Frucht, Robert McBrearty, Tori Bond, Kathy Fish, and Christopher Allen. Click here.
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