Yes, the dogs are fine. Well fed, well cared for. Each dog has its own cage. And its own blanket to lie on.

Wame walks from her office into the laboratory, just to say good morning to Isaac, the lab assistant.

There in the laboratory, the dog cages are stacked three-high, all down one long wall. About sixty dogs in all. And they are all fine. Well, they are all lying down, heads on paws, looking a little depressed. But that’s because they’d rather be running the streets than in cages. When Wame walks in, the dogs barely lift their heads.

Most of the dogs have sore, raw patches around their legs. Some of the patches are bleeding. But that is because of the restraints – the leather straps that are fitted to the experiment tables.

Professor von Lood explained to Wame about the restraints. “Vee have to tie the dogs to the table.” He always says ‘vee’ instead of ‘we’. “Yes, Vame. It is to keep them safe. Maybe they vill jump off the table from the gas and they vill get hurt.” So Wame knows the restraints are for the dogs’ benefit.

“Isaac?” Wame calls now.

Isaac appears from the gas store room. As he appears, the dogs wag their tails a little and stop looking so depressed. Isaac loves the dogs. Wame knows this. He has given them all names, on top of their log numbers that the professor uses. Like RI7 or RI46. No – for Isaac there is Rihanna the Alsatian and Beyonce the Labrador. And Kanye West the Ridgeback and Snoop Dog, the Corgi-cross. Isaac also loves music.

Now Isaac sees Wame and his face lights up. “Miss Ditsala! In yellow today! You look lovely in yellow. And how is little Miranda?” Wame knows, of course, that Isaac not only loves dogs and music. He is also secretly in love with her. She sees it in his eyes always.

But no! She could never get involved with a guy like Isaac. He isn’t strong and handsome and confident like Kagiso. Nor is he super-intelligent and important and sexy like Professor von Lood. In fact there is nothing very special about Isaac. Nothing that makes him stand out from the crowd. He is small-boned and quiet and wears glasses that are too big for his face. He is very ordinary. How can you possibly fall in love with someone who is just ordinary?

She answers, “All fine, Isaac. Well, Miranda was upset going to crèche this morning. But I’ll phone Mrs Jackson to check. Soon as I’ve typed the Professor’s emails up.”

“Poor little girl! What a pity she must go to Happy Dayz,” says Isaac. He has gone with Wame a few times to collect Miranda at the end of a day’s work. “If she was my little girl, I’d work extra hours overtime, just so that her mom could stay home with her.”

He goes across to one of the cages and opens it. He pats the dog inside and checks its legs. One of them is bleeding. “Poor Mariah Carey,” he says. “You need some more ointment, don’t you? Hang on and I’ll get some for you.” Mariah Carey, a spaniel, licks his face and wags her tail. Hard.

Outside at the fence, the protesters have stopped shouting. Now they are howling like a pack of demented wolves.

Wame goes back to her office. She fires up her PC ready to type out the Professor’s emails. Nine emails today, all to send to various government agencies and security companies and a couple of NGOs. They will all say basically the same thing.

Wame types the first one.

Dear Sir/Madam

As you know, I am currently perfecting my HPST gas, also known as HypeStar. I have been working on this project for six years, ever since 2015, and the results so far are encouraging. Right now I am at a crucial stage, ready to move on to Phase Three.

But the Phase Three trials will be expensive. Very expensive. I am therefore asking you, no, begging you, for more funding.

Wame knows all about the Phases of the Professor’s research. First there was Phase One – the rodent protocol. That was where the Professor developed his gas using mice and rats as subjects. Wame hadn’t started work at the Institute back then. She arrived at the start of Phase Two – the medium mammal protocol. Well, the dog trials in plain English. That was back in June of 2019.

That was also when the protesters first arrived outside. Just a few of them at first. But they’ve been multiplying ever since. Until now, through her window, they look like a mob. A dangerous mob. Still pushing at the razor wire fence.

Wame turns back to her computer screen and carries on typing. For Phase Three I will have to hire human volunteers and this will be an expensive undertaking. My HPST gas has to be tested on humans now.

Poor Professor von Lood! Poor Hans, thinks Wame. He has been begging for funds for Phase Three – the human protocol – for weeks now. And all he gets back are refusals. People don’t seem interested in his research. They don’t realise how much it will help society, especially here in this country. Especially the way things are going. This HypeStar gas could be one of the world’s greatest inventions. Perhaps the Professor will one day win a Nobel Prize. If only people would fill his bank account.

“Miss Ditsala! Oh great heavens! Wame!” It is Isaac, rushing into her office, yelling. “Phone the police! You have to phone the police right now!”

He is pointing out of the window. Wame turns to see that the protesters have pushed the fence right over. They are rushing towards the building, their faces twisted and their eyes burning with hatred.

The security guards, meanwhile, stand by with their weapons dangling loosely and uselessly in their hands. They look confused and uncertain. After all, you don’t go randomly shooting people – especially not rich women who might have very important husbands or fathers.

With trembling fingers, Wame dials 107.

Isaac stands between Wame and the window, as if he will protect her single-handed against the mob. They are already hurling rocks against the glass.

***

Tell us: Wame thinks Isaac is ordinary and not special enough for her. Do you agree?