Work Text:
The scent of the freshly baked goods encompassed the whole space. Permeating the corridor of the new apartment building she moved to not so long ago. While the timer showed three minutes until the lavender plum cake was to be ready, she stood in the kitchen with her hands propped on a counter. Her gaze, seemingly absent, was directed at the gloom and scattering leaves outside the vast window. She regarded the apartment and its surroundings as an adequate choice for settling. The neighbours were mere perishing spirits with the once-in-a-while sound of closing the doors too harshly. No one tried to introduce themselves or inquire about meaningless topics in the elevator. The thick walls created a safe environment of solitude. Only sporadic cracks of someone from the apartment to her right plugging into their sockets got through to disturb her peace. Her treasured part was the balcony. She cultivated all sorts of plants there. Each one was genetically modified in her lab. Some of them grew splendidly, bestowing a mere inkling of satisfaction when the flowers bloomed in shades never yet seen for the specimens. Others could not withstand the harsh winds and over-encompassing humidity to give in to their true potential. They were an error discarded without a second thought into a trashcan. Nonetheless, they left an indescribable bitter taste of failure in her. That is why she decided to wash away the bitterness after one more failed attempt with a new, perfectly measured kitchen experiment.
Baking was a tranquilizer for her. The elementary character of the process, which was based simply on the quality of the products and precision in their measuring combined with timing, was something she could always rely on. Maybe to simulate the experience of her lab, where she felt most at peace, or to ensure the perfect result, she even brought some of her laboratory glassware home.
In the sink laid measuring flasks in various sizes, covered in milk and other unidentified substances.
She focused on her hands next. They were sprinkled with flour, similar to her second favourite pipette. While being a researcher had been a tiresome endeavour involving a heightened need for accuracy, some controlled error was always welcome in the pursuit of new possibilities.
She studied the uneven splatters, rotating her hand accordingly. How strange that these were one of the few traces connecting her to the apartment itself.
Outside the perfectly curated garden and kitchen filled neatly with exotic spices and produce, the space was otherwise uninhabited. Not a stain adorned a new wooden coffee table. Neither the bed nor the couch were graced with any indentations. The one sign of life came from the bookshelves stacked to the brim with old and new editions of books. From organisms' evolution through molecular biology, it could be considered a sanctuary for biological studies. The amount of them could not allow any order to be maintained, the only chaos thriving between these walls. Many of those treasures lost the fight to be put on a bookshelf and laid in stacks in each free space that still accommodated free movement.
The timer went off as Ruan Mei came back to reality. She picked up the cat-shaped oven gloves and carefully picked the cake out. After putting it on a heat-resistant board, she rummaged through the shelves to find icing sugar. She had always put a vanilla stick into it to make it more fragrant and flavourful. The ending touches done to a baked good were like signing off a perfect article and sending it to a renowned paper. Putting a fresh lavender on top marked the end of her project.
She looked at it passively for some time, yet the enhancements could only be thought out through a taste test. Taking out a spoon, she dug right into the middle of the creation. After all, she wouldn't share this with anyone else. A satisfied, short hum left her. It was a good result. The flavours blended perfectly on her tongue. The sweet dough was balanced by a slightly sour taste of the plums. After swallowing a bite, the pure taste of the lavender blossomed in her mouth. The cake was neither soggy nor dry. Maybe next time, she would leave it in the common room of her institute. Others always appreciated a gesture like that. As a result, their progress on their tasks became more efficient the day they received a sweet treat.
Kind words were always an appropriate alternative. However, she would much rather refrain from unnecessary conversations. This only further distracted her lab partners. Limiting interactions had been the only way to maintain the progress.
The evening was approaching. The sounds of the speeding cars were slowly disintegrating. One of her project partners invited her to celebrate their recent publication. She declined, as usual. At this point, it had been sheer courtesy that they still extended invitations to her for informal events. Everyone knew she would not make an appearance. While morale was key to collaboration, she had no will to participate and befriend others from her institute.
She understood that people needed social connections and did not question it. It never occurred to her to look down on her colleagues' behaviour. She viewed it as a free choice of what each individual needed to further pursue their goals. On the other hand, being perceived as a hermit had never invoked any negativity in her either. The state of being she followed throughout her life brought magnificent results in her research. Her existence was entirely devoted to studying existence itself. Each successful test, each breakthrough, and each catastrophic failure moved her forward in the direction of life's essence.
However, these days she felt stuck. That's where excessive endeavours into baking came in. She dissected each being into simple elements, able to recreate them at will from a structural side. Somehow, the one ingredient of life was still unknown, even to her. Gaining advances in anatomic and functional realms other scientists could only dream of never brought her closer to the being's quintessence. Something was missing between the myriad of tissue, neural connectivity and cells. Scholars tried to put it in terms like 'self', 'being', and 'consciousness'. But to her, it was just a way to cast a fog over a concept that had to be simple in its true form. Those involved in spiritual practices made promises of gaining and experiencing this knowledge first-hand. They all connected it to a higher being or a force outside our senses' reach. She could not settle for that. If only those gods and those mystical energies could be studied. If one of them could cast a glance onto her so she could reach out her hands and try to grasp their essence delicately, never letting go.
For now, it was impossible. Alas, so much work and wonder awaited. So much to explore and reconsider. That is why she covered her new creation with a tablecloth with intricate designs of cherry blossoms, moved to grab her coat and shoes and exited the apartment she could barely call home.
Fortunately, it was easy to acquire her own set of keys to the back entrance of the institute. A couple of good words and a pie for the security service now and then.
As the smell of plums and lavender slowly faded, a new pull drove her through the streets. Everything in her lab waited patiently to be picked up again. What was one more night without sleep if it meant taking care of her most precious possessions?
The lights illuminated her as she made her way through the uphill. It was indeed a calm, mesmerising evening. Her numb fingers will soon be greeted by the burner with which she will disinfect the equipment and her soul. For now, the blinking of the emerging stars would suffice in warming her up. She could only imagine the kind of wonders she would inevitably experience in this lifetime. As for the essence of life - somewhere, the lavender aftertaste of it was hidden and yet to be discovered by the genius captivated with its existence.