Don't even ask. I happen to knw this one sucks... It was done in an hour, for pete's sake!

Ganavya Doraiswamy
Biology Honors, Period IV
Ms. LoPiano

1.An exploration team of five carefully selected people has been shrunk to the size of a eukaryotic cell and injected into the blood dream of a world class athlete to discover why this individual is able to achieve such high athletic performances. Describe their adventures.



Prologue
The Italian’s eyes narrowed as he observed the runner in the television. His incredible speed seemed to be god-like, and worse, he effortlessly did it. He was destroying the Italian’s career by exceeding in his. “And again,” the announcer informed gallantly, “Matthew Corner has finished the thirteen laps first!” Impossible, the Italian thought, glaring at the hostile television. There was no way he could have finished those laps that fast. The part that hurt the most was that he finished his thirteenth lap when everyone else on the track were gasping and running their ninth.
There must be a way he’s managing on the drugs, the Italian thought. He grimaced one last time at the television and turned it off, unwilling to more hear praises about that American corner. That’s when it struck him…
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I received a phone call from the “boss” as he liked us to call him, at one thirty in the night. I practically wanted to curse him off, but my anger vaporized the instant he told us about the assignment. And the money he would pay us was out of our dreams… for all we got was a meager amount from the lab we worked on. We jumped at the opportunity; signed without thinking… and later regretted it when he told us our assignment.
Sure, normal day activities. All we had to do was go inside legendary M. Corner’s body and figure out why no matter hoe many drug tests he goes through; he manages to come out clean. We were not allowed to ask any questions to our so termed “boss”… and we did not exactly want to after the lump amount of “initial-fraternizing money.” He was either rich, or stupid, or perhaps, both.

There were a total of three hundred and forty scientists that worked at my lab, and we rarely had time to even communicate with another. Obviously, Mr. Boss knew this well. So when our group of five of the top-notch scientists at our lab were selected, and we did not even know each other, he was not surprised even a bit. In fact, he said he “understood we scientists respected our privacy during research at work” God knows how much he knew, but he certainly did not realize the task he had imposed on us was anything but easy.
Even after our first (and devastating) meeting, I did not bother to introduce myself to my fellow-incognito-colleagues. Neither did they, and I understood. They would have been having the same problem I was having now; I had butterflies in my stomach; I wanted to vomit. I was generally a casual and take-it-easy person, but reducing my body mass and size by a multiple fold was not my idea of a soothing job. I was to become the size of a red blood cell.
This may seem absurd to the present world, but the people at our lab knew it was not. Labs like ours were much more advanced than what the commoners knew in the world, in fact, the technology our cryptic boss was referring to is quite old. In fright of technology being misused, the government has not allowed us to reveal the hidden facts to the world. That was why my collogues and I were shell-shocked when he conversed about our techniques to reduce our size as if we were talking about his wife.
He didn’t even give us time to say anything or suggest anything; he gave us each a paper, stating which section of the body we would go through, and what we should search for. I scanned the sheet with a worried forehead, and he, right on cue, told me that all of us would be out in fifteen minutes by the maximum. He also told us that we were leaving immediately for the mission.
Even though I was terrified, I was intrigued a bit. After all, I am a scientist. So when I was shaking when we were on our way to meet the famous sport icon, I wasn’t sure whether I was shaking due to fear or excitement. We followed him out of the black long limousine and reluctantly went into the large hotel’s men’s restroom. The restroom was more luxurious than my flat… but I was paying more attention to the five metal plates placed before us. “Gentlemen,” he said, in a heavily Italian thick accent. “Please stand on the plates so I cant shrink you.” He took out the shrinking device we had removed illegally from our lab and shrank us one by one. As I as the third, I saw the first two before me disappear before my eyes. He carefully poured a solution on the plate and then poured the solution that would have carried the cell that was my ex-college into a jar labeled “Harold”. Oh, I thought. So his name was Harold.
I don’t remember what happened after I was shrunk, but all I remember was feeling strangely mutilated. Suddenly, I had the feeling as if I was an overdue plant bursting out of a seed. I erupted, my dress dripping of blood. The boss and his men quickly removed my shirt and (embarrassingly) my pant and squeezed every ounce of blood into it. The boss smiled and gave me enough money for my next four generations to live off of. He explained patiently tat I had been reduced and out into Matthew’s drink, and I later was collected when he… er… well, let me out. The solution was specialized to make me float on the surface of water, and also triggered Matthew’s system to… well, let is be decent and put it this way: mother nature would guarantee that he would pay a visit to her in five minutes. I was not encouraged to probe for more details, so I silently left when they gave me my now-dry clothing. They even offered to clean my inner clothing, but I graciously declined the luxurious offer.
Well, the boss did not seem to realize I had enough money… even after seeing that when my wife and I and three children moved from our flat to a huge three story independent home; started using our three Benz cars instead of the bus… and had a servant to pick up after our messy children. He was so oblivious, when he came to tell us we were successful in the mission, he brought another lump of money, this time it was a “thankful gesture, to show we had successfully fraternized”. I cannot understand how this man was so immensely pleasured so reveal the fact Corner was on drugs, but it did not bother me. I got do to something that I have always wanted to do, and I have gotten paid for it. Even if it meant hurling a sports icon’s career down the sewage…
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Epilogue
He smiled, as he sat down to watch the next race. He knew for sure that the American would be disqualified, for they found traces of illegal drugs in his blood through that experiment of his. Now his runner, the Italian national runner whom his company sponsored would easily and fairly win. He broke open a bottle of champagne to celebrate his success, and waited in a childish anticipation he had not experienced for long for the event to begin. His cell phone’s ring took him off guard, and his forehead displayed worried creases as he noticed the number. Perhaps the scientists wanted more money… or maybe the dealer, the owner of the lab and his friend, wanted some money for himself…
“What?” he screamed into the telephone. He wasn’t able to believe his ears. He had paid in millions for this?
He slumped back into his sofa as he realized his mistake. He hurried to his fax machine, hoping it wasn’t what he thought it was.

Test cause: Checking for any traces of drugs in athlete’s blood samples.
He forced himself to read on…

Test Results: Negative.
He cursed himself…why did it not hit him before? He didn’t even need to read further to realize what was coming up next.

Reason>>>Blood sample unrecognizable. Cells are unusually behemoth.

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