16 June 2027
Wednesday. It is cold in both my cities, and colder in the laboratory, which is how I like it. Specimens keep better.
A woman telephoned today to say she was expecting a baby and wished to assist me, and which laboratory would suit her best. The staff were very sensible about it, which is their great failing. They told her the truth: the Sydney laboratory has no crawling and nothing cramped, and takes one wheelchair a session besides, while the Lake Street laboratory may involve some tight spaces and cannot take a wheelchair at all. Anyone pregnant or less mobile should ring Northbridge first, and the staff will say honestly what suits.
She lives in Sydney, as it turned out, so the matter settled itself. I was not consulted. I never am.
I should like it noted that in my day, laboratories were not built with anybody’s comfort in mind, least of all the scientist’s. The company has built mine better than I would have. I resent this deeply, from the comfortable chair.
In the margin: The baby is due in spring. I have asked whether it may assist when it turns thirteen. The doctor says I may not book people in advance. I have written it in the calendar for 2040 anyway. I am a patient creature. It is my best quality.
— V. Frankenstein
