The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2984 by Angharad Copyright© 2016 Angharad

---

This is a work of fiction any mention of real people, places or institutions is purely coincidental and does not imply that they are as suggested in the story.
*****

I looked at Tom, he was showing his age a little, he looked tired but defiant. “How are we going to fund the research? We’ve lost some major sponsors.”

“Ye need tae start it an’ publish as quick as ye can.”

“But that’s going to be incomplete...”

“Aye but ye’ve served notice o’ intent.”

“And why would the American be interested unless it was...space travel?”

“Aye they’ll be very interested, a’ those months in space tae Mars.”

“Why aren’t they doing it themselves?”

“They are, but ye’ve got the archetypal hibernator an’ ye’re thae acknowledged expert—ye’ve an advantage, use it.”

“And if a certain business machine company changes its mind?”

“Yer price has doubled. But ye need tae be quick tae steal a march on whaurever he’s placed thae contract. Mak’ him regret it.”

“What about the survey?”

“Ye’ve got fundin’ f’ twa more years.”

“So that’s it, then?”

“It wis due tae end then onyway.”

“We have to share the data anyway, so that’ll take another year to compile.”

“No, ye get someone in tae dae that, this hibernation, suspended animation is yer baby thae noo.”

“I’m not sure if I see hibernation as suspended animation exactly...”

“Whit is it then?”

“Okay, it’s a form of it with decreased metabolism but there’s a difference between six months in a cool climate compared to eighteen months in the freezing emptiness of space.”

“That’s no yer problem.”

“If they’re using our data to devise experiments...”

“That’s their problem, ye just show them how yer tree rats dae it because thae next stage is a multimillion dollar programme and yer nae set up tae dae it or run it. Dae thae bit ye can dae, show them how dormice hibernate.”

I had real concerns that we’d end up killing several animals as we experimented but he certainly had a point. Having been at the contract signing stage—well a few days from it, we get told not to bother. Now he’s telling me to push ahead and publish to try and beat whichever university is getting our funding. Where was the money coming from, the technology itself will be expensive? I grabbed the bull by the horns and asked him.

“Hoo much mony will ye need?”

“A team to do imaging, a biochemistry team to analyse metabolism and its rates, bloods and so on, someone to breed the dormice,” for the slaughter, I didn’t add because we were talking about the future of my department. We didn’t just need to succeed, we had to do it quickly and at low cost. Talk about flying by the seat of your troosers, we couldn’t afford the luxury of trousers so it would be by the seat of our knickers unless one was travelling commando.

The problem was the teams might use a dozen post-grad students each, that is expensive, especially as we have to complete the research and publish our results. When asked how much I was considering, I hadn’t really thought too much about it until now. “Per year, about a hundred and twenty thousand for people, probably the same in technology. So a minimum of half a million for two years. Add on ten per cent for other costs and employment costs, you’d be looking at six hundred thousand.”

“I’d hae said eight not six.”

“That was off the top of my head.”

“Set up yer research, I’ll find ye thae money.”

“Where are you going to find three quarters of a million?”

“That’s why I’m vice chancellor and ye’re not.”

“We’re going to need somewhere to put it all.”

“I’ve jest thae place, I’ll confirm it tomorrow, ye’d better start building yer teams.”

“This is going to cost a million before we finish, isn’t it?”

“Aye, easily that, but NASA will pay at least that f’ thae data ye’ll hae.”

“If they don’t?”

“Och weel, it’s been fun...”

“You’d take the hit?”

“Cathy, I’ll be seventy four, it’ll be time tae gang whit ever. Get it richt an’ ye’ll hae made yer mark an’ every university in thae country will want ye.”

“I hope you’re not taking risks just for me.”

“I’m auld no stupid, it’s ma university ye’re lookin’ efter, sae I’m lookin’ efter ye.”

“I’m glad someone is—thank you.” I pecked him on the cheek and he blushed. I smirked and walked away before he saw me.

I suppose it’s what vice-chancellors do, develop business plans for their university. Quite where he was going to raise at least a million possibly more. We’d already have some staff for it, myself being the single most expensive individual, but I’m employed by the university anyway. I’d need three team leaders and quickly—that was going to be the difficult bit. I had a biochemist working for me but I didn’t think he was up to it but his assistant might be. Then an imaging engineer—well, I did have someone advising me on that from Imperial College, the other week. Wonder if he wants a two year transfer to us?

We’d need to be staffed and ready to run by the end of September, I guess I’m going to be breeding a lot of dormice for then—something I’m not looking forward to plus all the paperwork for the experimental stuff. I tried not to think about how many animals would be sacrificed for science and the possible saving of human lives. Perhaps travelling to Mars is an extreme but it might be that our understanding of the detail of hibernation will ultimately help a better understanding of metabolism generally and how to control elements of it more closely, I think this could have possible spin offs in metabolic diseases like diabetes and possibly some neurological conditions, like brain ageing. But that is for others to decide, I’m an ecologist, we try to look after the environment and that’s quite a job in itself.

I drank a cuppa and felt myself relax a little—it usually helps—quite how, I don’t understand, after all it contains caffeine, hence the diuretic effect and caffeine stimulates more than your bladder—though it seems to stimulate mine more than my brain. How come I need to wee more often after drinking tea or coffee than I feel energised or buzzing with ideas. Nah, the only idea I have is going to the loo to get rid of it—the caffeine, that is. It doesn’t seem to affect Julie or Danielle in the same way so it must be idiosyncratic—what a delightful cop-out word. Bugger, thinking about it, I have to go again—doh.

I checked on the girls, they were all fast asleep, well the younger ones. Danielle was reading a chick lit novel by Freya North. Awful stuff, despite one being set on the TdF it’s all bonking and thinking about bonking plus a load of facts about either the race or racing cyclists, like, if you laid two hundred cyclists you’d have the basis of a Freya North novel. She seemed to be enjoying it anyway.