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that original species may be. Morgan, we must recalibrate the Crisper or none of this will turn out with the outcome we are expecting.” Morgan nodded in agreement with the old man. After all, he desired most to make things right with the others around him. It was not his intention to hurt anyone, but the science took over and his desire to create something powerful won.

Mr. Garman took a pen and paper from the drawer and started writing a task list for Morgan. “We need to make sure we order all the supplies, chemicals, and new spinners for our project. Do you still have the DNA you used to take splices?”

Morgan hesitated in his response. He still had the DNA, but he did not know how to answer the question. He did not want Mr. Garman to think he was going to use the leftover samples to create more creatures. Finally, Morgan answered his former teacher.  “Yes, but really, I was not planning on using it again to make more creature creations. I wanted to go back to the lab tonight and destroy it, truly.”

After a long sigh and a piercing stare, Mr. Garman sighed a relief and said “I believe you, Morgan. I believe you have good in your heart and soul. You know how I can tell? Because you have the desire to make things right.” And with that comment said, Mr. Garman continued with his laundry list of to-do’s in order to reverse the splicing spell.

The hours grew longer and the night grew darker. It was a new moon out, so there was nothing visible in sight, except the porch light outside of Mr. Garman’s kitchen window. Surrounded by the forest and trees of the Cuyahoga Valley National Park, Mr. Garman’s light was the only source of brightness in the midnight black sky. The old man continued on, writing his never ending list of to-do’s. “Now, for the fourth step.” Morgan perked his ears curiously as Mr. Garman continued. “There is a meteorite that was founded in the 1850’s called ‘Tempocrynight.’ From what you have told me, Morgan, we will need a piece of that rare gem to reverse this whole mess.” All night long Mr. Garman talked through each procedure, step by step, never missing a detail.

After what felt like an eternity of lists and details, Mr. Garman reached his last and final step of the mission: Morgan must become a drone. With his mouth gaping wide open, Morgan could not wrap his head around Mr. Garman’s logic here. How could he, Morgan, human as human can be, turn into a drone? Why would he need to turn into a drone? It suddenly dawned upon Morgan that he would have to use his own experiment on himself. Not taking into account the creatures of the experiment, Morgan was now faced with something he never thought he would have to encounter. Would this hurt? What would happen to him? Would the antidote work? He had so many questions, yet so little time to get the answers to them. If he wanted to save the forest creatures and his community, he would have to work quickly, without interruption. Snapping back into reality, Morgan heard Dr. Garman clear his throat. “Morgan,” Dr. Garman snapped his thumb and middle finger together, bringing the stunned and overwhelmed Morgan back into reality. “We will need to turn you into a drone in order for this to work.”

Morgan stuttered “Uh, u-u-uh, Mr. Garman, how do you propose we do such a thing? Does this not sound dangerous to you?”

Mr. Garman steepled his fingers in front of his chin. “Well, I know this will be risky, but you must believe me when I tell you. We will have to use the fluid and skin from one of the Hornet Queen’s minion drones. I have read extensively about their scepter and what is under its gold tip.” Morgan stared intently at Mr. Garman as he continued. “It is a piece of tempocrynight. It is absolutely vital to the state of humanity and all of the forest residents that you retrieve the cane, understood?”

Morgan, unsure if he was cut out for this type of mission, nodded his head back and forth, obviously lost in thought. Finally, after several minutes of intense thinking, Morgan spoke up in a small voice “Mr. Garman, I just do not know if I can do this. How do we know if I will be able to reverse the effects of becoming a drone and transform back to myself?” A worried look crossed both of their faces as the elephant in the room came to light.

“Well, son,” Mr. Garman spoke in a low, shaky voice. “I can not promise you that you will return to your normal self. However, in theory, it should be possible.” There was a pause as both men, lost in their thoughts, considered the worst outcome possible. With a sigh, Mr. Garman asked the worried Morgan, “Do you think you can do this for your community, the National Park, and the Forest Guardians? After all, you have put them in danger.” A frown swept across Morgan’s face as he turned his face in shame from Mr. Garman’s harsh, but truthful statement.

Noticing the lack of confidence and sadness in Morgan’s face, Mr. Garman began to speak again, this time using a positive tone, hoping to lift the spirits of the hopelessly conflicted man standing in his kitchen. “You are the best student I have ever taught, Morgan. Humanity needs you. I need you.” Morgan once again made eye contact with those piercingly crystal clear eyes. The old man continued. “Know this is all up to you. This is your decision, but just know, there are several people, creatures, and Mother Nature relying on you. What say you, Morgan? Are you up for the challenge?

Morgan snapped his head back to the old man with a grin on his face that sparkled like the stars in the night sky. “Hey, Mr.

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