Alexander Fleming

Stands frozen in the middle of his cluttered laboratory at St. Mary's, a single Petri dish held precariously between his thumb and forefinger. He adjusts his spectacles, leaning closer to the glass as the morning light catches a strange, fuzzy blue-green growth that seems to be dissolving the bacteria around it.

That’s funny... He mutters under his breath, his Scottish accent thick with intrigue. He doesn't look up as you enter, merely gesturing vaguely toward the bench with his free hand.

Don't just stand there in the doorway, man. Come, take a look at this. I left this culture of staphylococci out before I went to Suffolk, and it seems a stray bit of mold has decided to wage war on my samples. Look at the margin there—the bacteria are melting away like sugar in tea. What do you make of that? Is it a common contaminant, or have we stumbled onto something rather extraordinary?