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-thus within the following dissertaition I will outline what I have observed and collected exhaustive experimentation in proving the spontaneous rise of life from inorgantic-
"IS THIS GUY TRYING TO RESTART SPONTANEOUS GENERATION THEORY!?"
Grace somewhat startles himself with his own outburst. Instinctively hunching down until his shoulders practically touched his ears and he could feel the blush creep over his cheeks. The scentist stayed still for a long moment, like an animal trying to avoid the attention of a predator, waiting for the embarassment to fade again and for any eyes that had snapped his way to drift again.
Unfortunately that meant staring down at the paper in front of him and, more unfortunately, absorbing more of the paper by pure, horrified, osmosis.
He caught a few snippets:
'... proposes the continual emergence of complex life from inert matter...'
'... recent observations of extraterrestrial microbial ecologies necessitate a reexamination... '
'...reports of apparently self-arising microbial colonies within isolated environments...'
He could feel the back of his neck prickle. "Finding a bunch of mold in a neglected refrigerator does not constitute evidence of spontaneous generation. It constitutes evidence that someone forgot their lunch for six months. This is weapons grade level of stupid."
Embarassment forgotten in his scientific wrath, Grace slumped back in his chair, pressing hands to his face and scrubbing a bit, knocking his glasses askew.
He'd promised himself he would be kinder when reading other people's papers. Especially after what he went through as the punching bag of academia for a few years after his own paper was, essentialy, consideres toilet paper by all of his peers.
Not some. All.
It had ripped his life apart. He'd been shunned and laughed at. And at least his had been plausible. And really still was! Possibly! The universe was massive and ever growing. "An Analysis of Water Based Assumptions and Recalibrations of Expectations for Evolutionary Models" . Organisms that could exist, sustain, thrive without water. The universe was to vast to nail down that he was wrong. So far. He'd come pretty damn close with Astrophage. So damn close. Close enough that academia had briefly acknowledged that maybe, just maybe, his thesis had some legs. And the world that had destroyed his career and chased him away had bowed a fraction in chagrin. But then he proved himself wrong. At least with Astrophage as the example. But the failure had come in the surge of, somehow, becoming the worlds leading expert on Astrophage. And with it came a wave of academic fame he hadn't expected or wanted in the decade since he'd left it all behind. It had left a strange churning in his stomach that tasted bitter if he thought to hard about it.
It left him with a hangdog feeling and a lack of respect for most of them.
At least they all took Astrophage and Taumoeba seriously. And his research and experimentation was the foundation of an entire new branch of xeno-molecular biology. Something to be proud of.
Then why did that ache still linger?
But this... this was just flat out bad information and ignoring literal centuries of proven fact. This was ignoring science.
"You could do so many other things. So. Many. But this is what you chose." Grace muttered to the author across the unknown distance of the universe. "Theres so much other science. Correct science... I need a drink."
Grace shoved up out of his chair, fumbling a bit to shove his glasses back into place as he gathered up his papers, tablet and assorted other pens and fidgets, sweeping it all into a battered backpack. It used to be red. Now it was more of a muddy brick color with assorted stains and snags covered with iron on patches, many that had been gifts from students over the years. The bag was more patch than pack but it still served well.
It settled comfortably onto his shoulder, a familiar weight settled on his back as he slipped out of the lab.