Story code: ST-001054
Part 3: The Release Offer
Evan held out the tablet, the screen glowing against the dim light of the garage. “Sign it, Nina,” he said. “Otherwise, I’m locking your database profile tonight. You won’t be able to log in, and you won’t see the results of the next assay runs.”
I looked at the digital document. It listed hours, responsibilities, and a clause that gave Evan final sign-off on any external data sharing. “If I sign this, I’m committed to three shifts a week,” I said. “And if I don’t, you lock me out. So here is my decision: lock the account.”
Evan blinked, his hand dropping slightly. “What?”
“Lock it,” I repeated, keeping my voice steady. “Remove my profile. If this garage lab is such a crushing weight on your life, and my samples are adding to your stress, then let’s make things easier for you. I am officially stepping away from the project. You don’t have to calibrate sensors for me, you don’t have to track my vials, and you don’t have to sacrifice your weekends for my screening.”
Beside the metal shelving, Derek Hall stopped tapping his marker against the plastic bin. He looked over at us, his eyebrows raised. Aunt Marisol stepped forward, her hands hovering near her apron.
“Nina, don’t be rash,” she said. “Evan has put so much of his own money into the reagents for your panels. You can’t just throw that back in his face.”
“I’m not throwing anything back in his face, Aunt Marisol,” I said. “I’m offering him exactly what he says he wants. He says he wants his life back. I am removing my part of the burden. That means he has one less person to worry about.”
I turned back to Evan. “Go ahead. Delete the profile. Take me off the Saturday prep, the Tuesday audit, and the Friday delivery logs. You can use that extra time to rest.”
Evan’s jaw tightened. He pulled the tablet back against his chest, clutching it like a shield. “I can’t just delete your profile, Nina. That’s not how a controlled study works. The family baseline requires your data points. If you pull out now, the consistency of the entire six-month run is compromised.”
“Then the baseline is compromised,” I said. “But at least you won’t have to ruin your career for me.”
“You don’t understand the work that goes into this!” Evan raised his voice, his face flushing. “I spent my entire savings on these incubators! I spend my evenings cleaning the drainage lines and calibrating the pipettes! I did all of this for you!”
“If you did it for me, then you should be happy I’m freeing you from the obligation,” I said. “But you aren’t happy. You’re angry.”
“Because you’re being ungrateful!” Evan yelled. He stepped away from the door, marching toward the main terminal computer. He tapped the keyboard quickly. “If you walk out that door without signing the usage agreement, I’m not just locking you out. I am deleting your entire six-month history. Every test, every baseline, every marker. It will all be gone, and you’ll have to start over from scratch at a commercial clinic.”
He kept his hand hovered over the keyboard, looking over his shoulder at me, waiting for me to panic. The terminal screen blinked with a confirmation prompt.