and then it came to pass
we cracked the hourglass
--

SIX MONTHS LATER

Stephanie quickly scribbled down a couple of notes on a clipboard on the desk in front of her, turning her attention back to the glass. Seated behind the barrier, in the lab, was a small, white rabbit in a glass box, with the yellowish organism they had brought back attached to the far end of the box, still inside the canister.
"Test 26... Biological interaction between two different organisms. These creatures need to bond with a respiratory host in order to survive at any given time in an oxygen-rich environment."
She pressed a button to unlock the canister, watching as the yellow entity moved towards the animal with what seemed to be curiosity, moving along the floor of the box like a sentient, thick puddle of goo.
Beside her, Noah watched in awe at the interactions. "Well, why have all the previous hosts shown only results of cyber-acute rejection?"
"That's what we're trying to figure out," the woman replied, fingers brushing against the barrier as the creature actually seemed to be absorbed by the rabbit, disappearing within its fur. Stephanie quickly pressed a couple of keys on the monitor to her left. "The bonding process is starting."
The screen showed the skeletal outline of the rabbit along with the color of the organism now fusing with its companion, swirling around slowly as several notifications flashed as they began to merge. They turned from a soft grey to a bright green, indicating success.
"...It's equalizing..." she breathed out, a smile gracing her lips as she turned back to the box. Quiet gurgling sounds could be heard from the rabbit's body, accompanied by slight twitches of the organism moving around inside of it. The small animal hopped lightly around the box like normal, the only sign of difference being its once pink eyes briefly flashing a swirling yellow- the same color as the creature.
A small chuckle of relief came from Noah's mouth as he too matched Stephanie's grin. "But-but of all things to test, why the rabbit?"
"It's sort of like an organ transplant," she responded to him. "Where the donor and recipient have to be an exact match in order for the process to work."
Noah turned to face her, pondering his next steps. "So now, because of this, if one of the subjects does manage to achieve Symbiosis, they'd be able to survive here... but we'd also be able to survive there."
The female quickly snapped her head to look Noah in the eye, confusion eminent on her face. "...there?" she murmured, not sure if she heard her boss correctly.
If he heard her, he didn't show any sign of doing so. "Let's move up a step in the testing now, okay?"
"No, no, it's still way too soon for us to be thinking about doing that," Stephanie tried to reason with him. "We still don't know how they'll react to-"
"Dr. Buss, we're on the verge of a complete scientific breakthrough," Noah interrupted her, placing a hand on her shoulder. "and I'm going to need you to hold back your nerves. Think of what this could do- you and your kids could be set for life!" He paused then, his smile looking more like a smirk with the next sentence he spoke. "Speaking of which... how are your kids, anyway?"
Stephanie gulped. She couldn't say a word.
Seemingly satisfied with her lack of response, Noah patted her shoulder.

"Now then, let's begin the human trials."
--

The sounds of pool balls clacking together resonated throughout the small, hole-in-the-wall bar, music playing softly in the background so not to overpower the volume of the large television hanging above the counter.
You sat in silence on your stool, sipping the Old Fashioned out of your small glass, sighing to yourself as the whiskey and citrus mixture hit your throat. "Hey Paul," you murmured to the lone bartender, who was busying himself with cleaning a couple glasses. "You ever have those moments where your life is just a monumental, screwed-up pile of shit?"
Underneath his newsy cap, Paul shrugged at you. "Sometimes," he replied back, "but not often. Why you ask?"
You sniffled in response, taking another sip of your booze. "No reason, I guess..." you whispered under your breath.
The male glanced up at the television then, getting your attention. "Hey, ain't that your buddy right there?" he asked you.
Turning to where he was gesturing, you instantly sneered at the sight of Noah Crawford himself, in another stupid prim and proper suit that made you sick. "...but here, at the Life Foundation, we've learned so much since the disappointing failure in our rockets. And now, I'm pleased to say that we've found another new and exciting..."
"Dude, can you switch it off?" you groaned, tuning out the rest of what San Francisco's resident jack-off scientist had to say.
From your left, you heard a voice come from the larger male with a beard and thick-rimmed glasses. "You know, some of us are actually trying to watch that."
Humored, your head lolled back to meet his gaze, rolling your eyes. "Some of you? You look like the only fuckin' one here paying any attention to that crap."
He didn't respond to your comeback, only looking at you and then, in a softer tone of voice, asking you, "Aren't you [first name] [last name]?"
That got you.
You simply turned back in your stool, circling the rim of your glass with a finger. "...I was," you settled as a response, downing the rest of your drink and sliding a dollar from your pocket towards Paul's end of the counter. "That's for you, don't spend it all at once." the man smiled at your attempt of humor. "I'm outta here. Gonna go drown my sorrows in off-brand mac and cheese."

Your next destination for the night was a five-minute walk down the street to a small, locally-owned grocery store settled downtown. The breeze was slightly colder this time of day and year, so you pulled up the hood of your sweater and shoved your hands in your pockets to avoid the chill as much as possible.
Thankfully, you were greeted with a sight that made your night slightly better.
"Hey Mandy," you greeted the homeless woman sitting next to the store's entrance on a pile of blankets.
She smiled ear-to-ear at you. "Evening, [name]!" she chirped happily, her blonde ponytail swishing with her waving at you.
Although not as big as hers, you smiled back. Her happiness despite her hard times was infectious and you needed it. "How's it going tonight?" you asked, pulling back the door of a newspaper box to search for a catalog of coupons.
"Same as always, but I'm alive and kicking," she answered. "And that's what counts, I think."
Your fingers found nothing but an empty metal box, pushing the door back in disappointment. "Did someone take all the papers?" You mused aloud- enough for Mandy to hear you and pull back a blanket next to her to reveal an entire stack of what you were looking for.
"It'll cost you five dollars," she quipped playfully.
You let an airy chuckle escape your lips. "Five bucks for a paper that's free?" you questioned, playing along with her game to humor you.
"I walked all the way over to the box," Mandy explained, "pulled out all the papers, and brought them back over by me, so they could be personally delivered to you."
"Aw, you did that for me?" your smile was a little wider now.
Once more, Mandy plucked a paper from the stack, offering it out to you. "Five bucks," she reiterated with a small grin.
A long, drawn-out breath shot through your teeth. "Still pretty steep," was your response, the smile remaining. It was all in good fun, and you knew this. Besides, at least you had a place to go back to.
"Tell you what," your friend spoke, "you give me a dollar to sing to you, I'll throw in the paper for free."
Oh boy. Not a chance. Mandy's singing voice sounded like a combination of a wailing cat and fingernails on a blackboard.
"How about," you fished through your wallet and waved something at her. "I give you twenty bucks, but you don't sing."
She finally let up and smiled again at you, gratefully taking the money from your fingers. "Deal. Thank you, sweetie."
"Nah," you shook your head, walking up to the doors of the store. "Thank you."

Once inside, you were greeted by the owner of the small shop, a middle-aged Chinese woman named Mrs. Chang, who had recently become something of a mother figure to you. "How're you doing tonight, [name]?" she asked you softly as you strode past the register.

You shrugged. "I'm alive and kicking, think that's what counts," you used the same response that Mandy had given you only minutes earlier.
Mrs. Chang paused before speaking again. "You look like shit."

Stopping mid-step, you turned to look at her, dark eyes shining with worry behind her glasses. Then, you sighed in defeat. "I feel like shit," you confirmed, blowing a strand of [h/c] hair out of your face.

"Have you been meditating like I told you to?" she asked as you perused the aisles to find what you were looking for.

She couldn't see you shake your head. "Haven't had the time lately," you told her. "Been busier than I'd like to admit with job searching and all that junk."

The small woman audibly let out an exhausted breath. "You still have the DVD I gave you, try it out tonight. I can tell when you're stressed and you are stressed as hell right now."

"I'll put it on tonight when I get back home, mom," you drawled back to her, knowing she was just looking out for you.

She said something in Mandarin back to you before it was quiet, only the chime of the front door opening breaking the silence. Stomping up to the counter was a broad-shouldered, Hispanic male in a beanie hat and checkerboard sweater, demanding a bottle of Jack Daniels before pointing a gun at her and forcing her to open the register and give him his "protection fee"- at least that's what you figured it was. After deriding her for a minute or so, you finally saw him walk out with the booze and three hundred dollars poking out of his back jean pocket, leaving a slightly shaken up Mrs. Chang to close the register back up.
You took delicate steps back up to the front, setting your box of mac and cheese and a bottle of ibuprofen on the counter. You stared at the older woman with hesitant worry.
She eventually sighed. "Life hurts, [name]," she spoke quietly. "It just does."
You knew that all too well.
You quickly handed her the money and left the store.

After your messy "break-up" with Devon, your new home was a small, run-down apartment with creaky stairs and a few cracks in the walls. It was less than ideal, but it was better than nothing.
Yours was at the end of the hall on the second floor. Strolling towards the door, you saw your neighbor- a dark-skinned male about your age with his black hair in a buzz cut and skater shop clothes- and his... girlfriend? Probably not; the last girl you saw leaving his place looked different than this one.
"I gotta go," she giggled, planting a full-mouth kiss on his lips before walking down the hall, her hair swishing behind her.
Gross.
You quickly unlocked the door and shut it behind you, tossing the bag with your items on the table before sitting down and opening up the newspaper, turning straight to the "Help Wanted" section. Ever since your mishap from interviewing Noah Crawford, finding a new job- even the messy ones that paid minimum wage- seemed impossible. Tonight, you weren't in the mood to call up the companies looking for workers, so you simply circled a few to respond to in the morning and pushed the paper to the other end of the table.
You fished out a small bottle of lemonade from your nearly empty fridge before shedding your day clothes and donning a tank top and flannel sweatpants, grabbing the meditation DVD and popping it in your player like you had promised you'd do.
Soft, relaxing music filled your living room as you laid down flat on the floor on a blanket, stomach-up. Closing your eyes, you were just about to feel even just the slightest bit better.
Until...
"TURN AROUND, STICK IT OUT, SHOW THE WORLD YOU GOT A
BUBBLE BUTT, B-B-BUBBLE BUBBLE BUBBLE BUTT."
The rap music.
Not again.
Your neighbor had a really horrible habit of playing the most annoying, brain-cell popping music- if you wanted to call it that- you had ever heard in your life. And at full volume.
You had to fight the urge to break down his door with your foot, beat him senseless with his own boombox, and scream at the top of your lungs to tell him to turn that shit down. In no particular order.
You couldn't finish meditating. You shut and locked the door to your bedroom, piling pillow after pillow over your head to try and stop the madness. 
It didn't work. You could still hear that... that garbage.
"OPEN UP YOUR BUBBLE GUMP, LET ME SEE YOUR BUMPER
THE BOOTY SO SMOOTH, CAN'T BELIEVE IT'S NOT BUTTER."

This was going to be a long fucking night.