Page 7 of Florescentia

He squinted at me as he reached for a set of cotton gloves.

I placed the biolight on the counter, holding the emulsive film strip in front of the glow.

“Portraits?” He sounded rather unimpressed.

“Look closer, you’ll see.”

He leaned over the table, the glass globe close to the film.

It was a negative image, but odd blotches hung like an aura around the figures, each taken with a new person.

“Do you see it?” I hugged his arm, my chin on his shoulder.

“Is it mold?” His brow furrowed as he pulled out a magnifier.

“My film does not mold.” I slapped the back of his head. “Look.”

He was looking, just not how I wanted him to.

I grabbed his magnifier and brought my globe closer. “Do you remember how I explained that some chemicals are more or less sensitive to different light waves, which usually relates to the color we perceive them as?”

“Colors. Yes, I know what colors are.”

“Some species of animals can see a thousand more colors than the human eye can. Have you ever wondered how?”

“Not really—”

“Pretend you have.” I blew a breath through my nose, leaning in toward the film. “Like stars, like gravity, we give off energy passively. Just like chemicals, gases, germs—our eyes may not be able to perceive everything . . .”

“So you’ve somehow made a film that is sensitive enough to capture it?”

“Yes, my good man, you have it!” I punched his arm.

“Are these a sort of aura, then?”

“Yes—and also no,” I explained. “You say aura, and people will believe some divine explanation, a truth of the soul. No, it is as random as our eye color, our skin, my—” I stopped myself, rubbing my thumb to the palm of my hand. The white spots were vivid in the blue biolight.

Maxim’s brow softened as he took my hand. “It’s brilliant. You are brilliant”—he squeezed—“but you’re also a bit obnoxious.”

“For once, I want you to not be ridiculous.” A bashful shove, but it was nice to share with him. “I have a patent appointment in a couple of days. Can you push along the patent process for me?”

“You plan to make this public?” His dark brow raised.

“I don’t see why not. My last formula was received highly and is now widely available and accessible. I’ve managed to make this in emulsion film and wet-plate formats.”

“I don’t want to be a soaked cat; please don’t take this as me being an alarmist . . .”

“But?” I urged him to finish.

“I would mull it over carefully. What you have here is brand new, steeped in possibilities of alternate applications.”

“I don’t understand, that is a good thing, is it not?”

“It is. Except you are about to tell a large group of religious folk that something they consider divine is ordinary.”

“So?”

“So, I would be careful. There may be resistance, that is all.”