-cube as an experiment. It didn't even splash. The
surface pulled away, letting the cube make a pretty good dent in it,
but then only gradually did the displaced goo creep back around it as
if to sample it cautiously.

I couldn't stand the dry air any more, so I threw open the doors and
windows and let the cool, damp night air come in. The ice-cube had
disappeared without even a surface puddle. Now, as the humidity came
back, I thought I noticed a restless shimmering in the jelly.

The phone rang. It was Lottie's mother wanting to know why Lottie had
come over there in hysterics, and where had I been since seven
o'clock. I don't remember what I answered, but it served the purpose.
Lottie hasn't returned and they haven't called up any more.

When I returned to the bucket, it seemed that the stuff was deeper
yet, but I couldn't tell because I hadn't marked the level. I got
Lottie's fever thermometer out of the medicine chest and took the
jelly's temperature. It read 58 degrees F. The wall thermometer read
58 degrees, too. Room temperature, with the windows open. What kind of
"life" could this be that had no temperature of its own?

But then what kind of a fancy-pants metabolism could you expect out of
an organism that fed on nothing but Lake Michigan water, right out of
the reservoir?

* * * * *

I got a pencil and notebook out of Lottie's neat little desk and
started making notes.

I wondered about the density of the stuff. Ice floated in it and the
bucket seemed heavy. I broke the thermometer and tapped a drop of
mercury onto the restless surface. The droplet sank slowly to the
bottom with no apparent effect either way.

Heavier than water. Lighter than mercury.

I took a beer out of the refrigerator and swallowed it. The last drops
I sprinkled into the pail. The drippings sizzled across the surface
until only a fine dust was left. A tiny ripple flipped this dust over
to the edge of the pail as if clearing the thirsty decks for action.
But this drew my eyes to the rim of the liquid. There was no meniscus,
either up or down.

Remembering back, I figured this meant there was no surface tension,
which reminded me that part of this mixture was made of detergent.

But had I created a new form of life? Like Lottie said, was it really
alive? Certainly it could reproduce itself. It had brains enough to
know the direction of more water, like when it took off after me on
the table.