Her face went white. Slowly, timidly, she stepped towards him, gesturing to the chair she just got up from. She helped him sit down. Everyone else stood frozen in place, not believing what they'd just seen. He appreciated them not freaking out, but somehow this was worse. The dim hum of the projector, the pale glow of the PowerPoint they had been presenting. Those were the last things he would experience?
Some brave soul from the back ventured a suggestion. Should they call emergency services?
"I think there's no use," she said. "He drank, like, half of it."
He didn't like that comment, since it made him sound stupid, but it was accurate. Half the beaker was now empty. It was pretty tasty, though. He could still taste it. The thing he couldn't believe was that he'd taken several sips without even noticing.
He looked back at his hand, no longer holding the beaker.
"How long?" he said, his voice now starting to quiver.
She furrowed her brow. Something was off, she thought. He should be dead already, not that that was something she wanted. Just strange. She told him so.
"Then how am I still alive?"
"Honestly, I have no idea. How do you feel?"
Someone in the back said something again, possibly the same guy as before. She told him to shut up.
"Open your mouth."
He did.
"How are you just fine? You drank way more than a drop."
Her tone was more one of bewilderment than relief, he noted, but he was still thankful for her words. He licked the inside of his mouth. It was kind of sticky, but the taste was beginning to fade. She kept looking at him like he was some sort of alien microbe on a microscope slide, but he still felt fine. Someone said something in audience once more, which they both promptly ignored.
"You said a drop of this could kill a whale?"
"Not could," she reiterated, "would. Definitely would've already."
"I drank, like a half a beaker. Like 50 milliliters. How many drops is that?"
"What?" she asked, not understanding.
"You said a drop would kill a whale. How many drops did I have? 50?"
She pondered this for a second.
"That's not how it works. You can't drink more poison and get less of an effect. That doesn't even make sense."
"And yet..." he posited.
There was silence once more. Well, except for the hum of the projector. He faced towards the crowd again. The high school gym, full of students. He suddenly felt very self-conscious. Everyone was looking at him.
"Anyway," he said, springing up again to continue the presentation, "this stuff is really dangerous, huh!?"
lululit t1_jadbij5 wrote
Reply to [WP] "One drip of this poison is enough to kill a whale." The scientist points towards a table, but the beaker isn't there. Instead a silly coffee cup shaped like a beaker sits. You lower the not coffee cup from your mouth. Tastes like lemon-lime. by DistillerCMac
"Did you....?"
He looked down at his hand.
"I guess I did."
Her face went white. Slowly, timidly, she stepped towards him, gesturing to the chair she just got up from. She helped him sit down. Everyone else stood frozen in place, not believing what they'd just seen. He appreciated them not freaking out, but somehow this was worse. The dim hum of the projector, the pale glow of the PowerPoint they had been presenting. Those were the last things he would experience?
Some brave soul from the back ventured a suggestion. Should they call emergency services?
"I think there's no use," she said. "He drank, like, half of it."
He didn't like that comment, since it made him sound stupid, but it was accurate. Half the beaker was now empty. It was pretty tasty, though. He could still taste it. The thing he couldn't believe was that he'd taken several sips without even noticing.
He looked back at his hand, no longer holding the beaker.
"How long?" he said, his voice now starting to quiver.
She furrowed her brow. Something was off, she thought. He should be dead already, not that that was something she wanted. Just strange. She told him so.
"Then how am I still alive?"
"Honestly, I have no idea. How do you feel?"
Someone in the back said something again, possibly the same guy as before. She told him to shut up.
"Open your mouth."
He did.
"How are you just fine? You drank way more than a drop."
Her tone was more one of bewilderment than relief, he noted, but he was still thankful for her words. He licked the inside of his mouth. It was kind of sticky, but the taste was beginning to fade. She kept looking at him like he was some sort of alien microbe on a microscope slide, but he still felt fine. Someone said something in audience once more, which they both promptly ignored.
"You said a drop of this could kill a whale?"
"Not could," she reiterated, "would. Definitely would've already."
"I drank, like a half a beaker. Like 50 milliliters. How many drops is that?"
"What?" she asked, not understanding.
"You said a drop would kill a whale. How many drops did I have? 50?"
She pondered this for a second.
"That's not how it works. You can't drink more poison and get less of an effect. That doesn't even make sense."
"And yet..." he posited.
There was silence once more. Well, except for the hum of the projector. He faced towards the crowd again. The high school gym, full of students. He suddenly felt very self-conscious. Everyone was looking at him.
"Anyway," he said, springing up again to continue the presentation, "this stuff is really dangerous, huh!?"