Meerkat Elixir

"But the Sariel still looks like an ordinary meerkat," Simon said, pushing his glasses further up his nose with one hand while still maneuvering the Jeep's steering wheel with the other.

Professor Anwight scrutinized his young lab assistant, his dark beard bouncing up and down as the Jeep jolted across the African Savannah. "I can see you still have doubts, Simon."

Simon gulped. He needed Professor Anwight's recommendation once they arrived back in the States. He couldn't afford to offend him. "No, no, Professor. It's just that I've never even heard of a Sariel before. There are no references to it in any ancient texts or even the local folklore."

"I still assure you the Sariel exists," Professor Anwight replied. "And as my assistant, my word should be enough." Then his voice took a dreamier turn. "Simon, the answer was hidden in all the old myths. You just weren't looking hard enough. The alchemists of the Middle Ages refer to the Sariel in their recipes. Supposedly its skin had that property necessary to create the Elixir, also called the Philosopher's Stone. This makes the Sariel absolutely priceless."

Simon stared at the Professor. Had he gone mad?

"It was a simple process of deciphering the code hidden in some of the oldest experiments. With the skin, I will finally be able to create the Elixir," Professor Anwight said briskly. "Now, Simon, pay attention. Soon we will be arriving at our first meerkat colony."

Simon parked the car and the Professor hopped out, rubbing his hands in excitement.

The meerkats stood a good ten yards away, studying the humans with curious eyes.

"Hello, my pretties," Professor Anwight whispered as Simon scurried around, getting all the equipment out of the trunk.

"Simon, do you remember how the Sariel can be identified?"

"No, Sir," Simon panted.

"It has a fat, stubby tail. Its hide is entirely black and white. Its eyes should contain an intelligent glimmer."

Simon studied the meerkats, all of whom seemed totally unafraid. "None of them seem to match those criteria, Professor."

"Hand me that tranquilizer, Simon."

Simon did so. What did the Professor plan on doing?

Suddenly, he began to shoot at the meerkats. He got two or three before the rest disappeared down their holes.

Simon yelped. "What did you do that for, Professor? We're not supposed to harm the wildlife! I promised the Reservation Sheriff we were merely observing!"

"Ah, what's a few meerkats among a thousand?" Professor Anwight said merrily, striding toward the few meerkat bodies strewn around.

He picked them up and studied their undersides carefully. After a minutes' silence, he tossed the bodies back on the ground.

"It is as I feared, Simon," the Professor sighed. "The Sariel is no where to be found here. These meerkats do not bear the signs of having been in close vicinity with its divine presence as they should. Let's go on to the next reservation."

He shoved the tranquilizer into Simon's trembling arms and made his way back into the Jeep, whistling cheerfully.

Simon watched him go with a mixture of horror and exasperation welling up in his throat. Working for a mad scientist was harder than he had ever imagined it to be.