The Experimental Journal of Professor Ezekiel Hojo
By
40:21:08, Midgar
Standard Time
Happy Birthday to me, that’s the way it ought to be! Today, I, Ezekiel Hojo, become 28 years old and from what I understand, President Shinra had thrown me some sort of gala party, in honor of the prospectus I submitted to him regarding the “Neo Midgar” project. I did not attend, of course. Social gatherings hold no interest for me, though I admit, it’s quite humorous to see what reactions certain intoxicating beverages induce in the person who drinks them. Under the influence, Scarlet’s “Kya-ha-ha!” and Heidegger’s “Gya-ha-ha!” seem to harmonize together; of greater amusement are their drunken disco-karaoke performances…like two donkeys braying on high as they give birth!
For my hard work, of course, I received several birthday presents. A hefty salary increase and a sizeable research grant that would let me continue my JENOVA experiments from Scarlet, a precision laser scalpel from Palmer, who intends to use the same technology to improve the accuracy of SOLDIER’s weapons, and a mini-satellite from Heidegger, which will allow me to conduct JENOVA experiments in Zero-Gravity environments. The Turks even got me a present: a satiny smoking jacket that resembles my lab coat…it even has a pocket protector! How droll!
The best present, however, came from President Shinra. When the automated pneumatic doors to the lab whisked open this morning, my eyes caught sight of a woman seated in a rolling swivel chair. One of her long legs was crossed over the other, atop them perched a clipboard, her eyes riveted to my laboratory notes. She wore a simple outfit: a nondescript black businesswoman’s skirt, stockings, a light gray sweater, and a shorter version of my own white lab frock. “Good morning, Professor Hojo.” Her voice was clear and had a knowledgeable tone to it. She offered me a thin, pale hand and a half-smile. “My name is Dr. Lucrecia Vachel, and I’ve been assigned as your new assistant.”
Well well well, it seems as if Shin-Ra has finally heard my request for a laboratory assistant and fulfilled it a thousand-fold. Dr. Vachel’s credentials certainly are impressive; not only is she a simple medical doctor, she is one of the world’s foremost pioneers in genetic manipulation and quite the looker. I must remember to restrain my long-bottled up lusts and hand her the correct “test tube” when she reaches for it. As a scientist, I’ve no problems with sex as a stress-reliever. But when it’s an exponent of love, that’s when the sanctified sterility of the lab environment is disrupted beyond all repair.
Tonight, she’s asked me to dinner at her apartment, though I’m not exactly sure why. It is my birthday; perhaps she means to cook me a birthday meal? Or perhaps she’s just lonely; it’s hard being the new employee and not knowing anyone. Or perhaps she wants sex. I’ll remind myself to bring the necessary protection with me when I go. It has been awhile since I’ve last “done it”….and Dr. Vachel…err…Lucrecia….might want that sort of contact.