"What next, doctor?"

They stared at him with wide, adoring eyes. They looked at him as if he was a god; it was something he'd never experienced before.

"Put the red one in the blue one," Tim said, in his confident, most doctor-like voice.

"Are you sure, doctor?" asked the female lab assistant. She picked up a small vial of red liquid, and another, larger vial of blue liquid.

"As sure as my name is Doctor Sven Bernstein." His name was, of course, not Doctor Sven Bernstein. His name was Tim. The government had insisted, however, that Tim was, in his past life, one Dr. Sven Bernstein, genius and potential saviour of mankind. Before his heart attack, anyway.

Tim was not Sven. Was never Sven. Tim had barely passed high school science, and was actually already one year old when Dr. Bernstein died. Before this life Tim was a recluse named Dorothy whose hobbies included hoarding cats and eating Nutella straight. A woman who died alone. She choked on a chicken bone while watching Maury reruns at 4 am.

But they thought he was Sven, and that's what counted. Tim mattered. It was a euphoric feeling, and one worth risking everything over--including humanity's very survival.

No more Fridays alone, and no more cats, Tim thought. Fuck you, Mr. Tittles.

"Mix them!" he demanded. "It is the key to finding a vaccine! Mix them!"

"But what will happen, Doctor?" asked the male lab assistant, Steven.

"Why, it will make purple, of course." Tim grabbed a nearby vial of yellow liquid, uncorked it, and gave it a sniff. "Is this edible? It smells like raspberries."

"No, doctor, it isn't edible. In fact, just sniffing it like that probably cost you a few weeks of life," Steven said, giving Louise, the female lab assistant, a concerned glance. "It's essentially an airborn poison. One you concocted."

Tim was losing them. He knew it. "Hah. A test! You passed, Steven. Louise--pay more attention. This is just water with food colouring!"

He placed the yellow vial back on its tray, uncorked.

"Now, mix the red and blue vials together. Do as your doctor demands!" He slammed the table.

Yes, what he needed to show was confidence. He'd read that it wasn't intelligence that people respected, but confidence. Keep your head held high and your hands steady, his mother would say, and nobody will notice you're shoplifting.

After a moment's hesitation, Louise mixed the two liquids together.

The liquids were especially viscous, and seemed to move in slow motion, twirling together as they entered the liquid pitcher. It was a beautiful sight, and he swore he could he Beethoven playing gently in the background. Tim had a good feeling. It was a guess but in his gut he knew it would yield results.

Finally, Tim thought. I matter. I really matter.

It took the custodial team ages to scrape their liquefied remains off the lab wall.