Rompecabezas

My alarm is always set for 5am. 

But today I was restless and turned it off at 4:58am.

Today was going to be a long day.  

My first class was at 7am with Professor Madlock, but I always liked having this time for myself to get ready. Get my thoughts in order.  

Not that I didn't have a lot of time during the day, but there was always something about the stillness of the morning, that offers the feeling of a clean slate, a new day to be productive.  

Looking at myself in the mirror, my father’s face gazed back. As my blue eyes stared beyont mu blonde hair, which I alwasy wore in a bun, all I could think about was for it to become undone and to yell from the top of my lungs. Causing chaos in the organized little bubble I had created for myself. 

But that little voice inside my head always reels me back to reality.  

Breathe, keep going Rennata. One day all this work will pay off. You can’t afford to give up now.  

Images of masks float round my memory and a feeling of embarrassment and shame hangs heavily around my heart. But I breathe, collect myself and leave for class. 

It's always nice to walk to campus. The cracked sidewalks extend from the outside of my small dorm door to the entrance of the University's buildings. Palm trees line both sides of the street, other small shrubs having grown unattended decorate the way. 

My dorms weren't very far, and I preferred living alone. It gives me a sense of independence that most students don’t have or aren’t even ready for. There are few people around at this hour, mostly having an early jog or securing their parking before the wave of students that have class at a reasonable hour steal the spots. 

However calm and beautiful the morning was, the gears in my brain were turning already: I have four hours of lab time after Madlock’s class, I can finally do the dissection. 

Professor Madlock puts a lot of trust in me with this research. This is beneficial for both of us. 

I must always keep in mind the opportunity he has given me, a little advantage in the ruthless start of academia. I return the favor with swift execution and special care for the samples he has entrusted me.  

But there's other more important ranks which some students hold an advantage over. I always feel the pressure, the tension between them, little do they know I am aware of their world, and wish to be a part of it once again, holding respectable standing that once belonged to the Veguillas. 

Being stuck in my own head made time go by quickly. The class ended as we were divided into groups, which I didn't particularly appreciate. More people working on something means a greater margin of error, but it is necessary, nonetheless. 

After class, professor Madlock pulled me apart. “I trust you will dissect now?” He asked in his usual professional tone, but gentler, understanding that I do not respond well to harsh tones unless warranted. “I also want you to make an effort to integrate yourself with the group I have assigned you for the class. I understand you cherish being alone, a feeling I also appreciate but it will help you…”  

His pause and nervousness was telling me what his silence could not. “It will help you achieve your goals much more efficiently. I know you appreciate that.”   

With that, I was dismissed in order to get to work. 

His pause.  

I was sure Professor Madlock knew. If so, why was he helping me?

I pushed these thoughts deep down. I had to be in the right headspace before beginning lab hours. 

 The lab. It was wonderful. My own little world, adequately illuminated, the hum of the refrigerators being the only sounds, creating a peaceful atmosphere for me to begin my work, and turn on the switch inside my brain that allowed me to slip into my own rhythm. 

I always clean my work area meticulously before and after. Laid out all my dissection instruments, my scalpel and tweezers being the star of the show, and the sample, a beautiful primate brain, less than a week old atop my stainless-steel table.

 And then, I made the first incision. Soon enough, the lab was filled with a metallic scent, which didn't bother me at all--it was simply a byproduct from an organic sample. I inhaled deeply and continued my work, slowly, deftly removing each membrane separating both hemispheres. Until finally, the cerebellum was extracted.  

It was a therapeutic process, although some people may be repelled by the smell, the sight of coagulating blood, and the cold feeling of dead tissue.  

  It’s the opposite of a puzzle, pulling the pieces out. Dividing the whole into smaller parts. Rompe cabezas. A process of breaking pieces.  

I had always been fascinated with the way things work, just like my parents. The Veguillas were known for being a pair of exceptional surgeons, and my father was thrilled when his only daughter showed an affinity for sewing, cleanliness, and most importantly ambition. He was brilliant, a lead researcher in the restoration of damaged cognitive tissue. That is what made him such a valuable piece to them. He was welcomed into the Society with promises of development of research. Sometimes, in the silent loneliness I often found myself in, I could hear the shouting, the fighting. My father begging them to finish his research. Being cast out, my father could not handle it, the shame and the growing itch to return to his unfinished work.  

Before these thoughts and feelings of failure and deep loneliness consumed me further, I decided to take a deep breath. Letting the soothing environment of my lab seep into my bones and ease my mind once more, I finished my work. 

Leaving the lab with the same feeling of serenity as I always did, I headed to the library to organize the next part of my day. Professor Madlock asked me to get along with my assigned group---Nikole Ann, Clover, and Samira. I had seen each of them in my class, the hallways and common areas. I could only say I am personally close to Nikole Ann, a responsible student, very ambitious. I see the way her eyes dart from student to student, always holding her chin up high as if trying to clutch at whatever relevance and influence she thinks she holds over our group. On the other hand, Samira’s a genius but lacks ambition. Her mother is the Head of the Department, she was granted research, yet every so often she sneaks away to play in some band, she destroys her lungs by smoking, and her style is not very practical. Finally, Clover, whom I truly do not understand. Always nervous, always fidgeting. Maybe this group assignment could help me understand her more. 

But for now, I shall wait and see how this dynamic plays out, I do not want to be the one that takes charge, but follows and listens, as I have always done.

Sooner or later, someone will crack.  

The reunion was quick, our parts were divided and assigned, and in a few days, we would regroup, to ensure that the project was in order. However, the gears in my brain were once again turning faster than usual trying to justify Clover’s weird movements. She kept looking at her arm, dissociated yet attentively looking all around as if trying to find a route to escape.

What was she trying to escape from?  

The library was always a good place to study and meet. It had welcoming doors, lots of windows which let the sunlight enter beautifully. I’ve always thought that if there was a place in this university where one could feel at peace, it was in the library. Which made me feel even more uneasy about Clover’s behavior. 

All this confusion and questioning made my usually perfect bun pop out a few hairs out of place. Taking a deep breath, I came to the temporary conclusion that she was just a nervous person.  

Professor Madlock approached me outside the library doors. 

“I have the most special assignment I will ever give you, Rennata. I believe you are ready. I expect efficiency and most importantly silence regarding this dissection. Do you understand?” Madlock seemed impatient, almost as nervous as Clover.

At the same time, the fire within me roared in answer. This was the moment I had been waiting for, the chance to impress Madlock and prove my worth. I nodded and waited for further instructions. 

“You will find the sample in the lab waiting for you, be meticulous in your dissection and take note of any observation out of the ordinary.”  

I turned and almost ran to the lab, curiosity getting the best of me. The gears of my brain were exhausted. It could be a hundred things, but all I knew was that Madlock felt I was ready for this task. 

Entering my own haven of research, I passed through the lab doors and, there, upon my bench I saw it. 

An intact brain in its crystal container. It seemed to belong to a small human due to its size in development.

What was so important about this sample? 

Then I read the name of the sample and everything I thought I knew seemed questionable. Walking towards it cautiously, scared to even hold it. This held answers to questions I hadn't even created yet. Upon the lid of the container, it was written in messy handwriting: Clover II.