Growing into the Job, Post 490: Men, Abandon Science (1)

-----see also: GITJ Post 172----

22:04, Dimanche. 16.11.20%&

Grenoble, France 

Late in the evening after a hard day, Pierre Allard, researcher at the local Université, felt his pulse quicken as he picked up the printout. Someone had printed it out from a source online and put it here on his desk, in his home study. That someone was likely his wife.

This was the article:

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Science’s Shifting Sands: Targeted Deaths Call for Change

By: Genevieve Holst

Published in: European Science Weekly, 15 November

Dr. Louis Van Ranst, a prominent virologist from the Université de Leuven, met a grim end late Tuesday night in what police are calling a suspicious car accident on a rural Belgian road. While his death was initially presented as a tragic mishap, investigators have since revealed evidence that has stunned the scientific community: a large banner displayed at the scene, reading ‘Мужчины, уйдите из науки’ (“Men, abandon science”) in bold Cyrillic lettering. The banner, eerily illuminated by police floodlights, added Van Ranst’s name to a growing list of male scientists whose recent deaths have been marked by chillingly similar messages.

A Pattern of Deaths

• Poland (22 October):

Dr. Kristof Nowak, a molecular geneticist specializing in neurodegenerative diseases, was found hanging in his Warsaw apartment. Still officially classified as a suicide, forensic investigators later determined that the cryptic suicide note, written in Polish and reading ‘Mężczyźni, odejdźcie od nauki’ (“Men, abandon science”) was not in Nowak’s handwriting.

• Germany (7 November):

In Munich, Dr. Tobias Kühn, a leading researcher in synthetic proteins, died in a suspicious lab explosion. Near his workstation, investigators discovered the phrase ‘Männer, verlasst die Wissenschaft’ - translated from the German to, again, “Men, abandon science” - scrawled on a blackboard. The handwriting was identified as female and matched no known samples of Dr. Kühn’s or any of his lab employees.

• Belgium (12 November):

Now, Dr. Van Ranst’s fatal car crash - at first an apparent accident. Forensic teams now suspect foul play, citing signs of tampering with his vehicle. Additionally, the 8-meter long banner left hanging between two trees at the scene was a far bolder statement than the subtle messages in the earlier deaths, suggesting growing confidence and audacity on the part of those behind these incidents.

A Broader Shift in Science and Medicine

While these deaths are undeniably tragic, and are perhaps meant as a message from some group looking to eliminate male involvement in the scientific community, they also underscore a broader societal shift that has been quietly underway for decades: the steady decline of male representation in science and medicine. Women have outpaced men in education for years, with more women earning college degrees and excelling in STEM fields. In medicine especially, women now make up the majority of new doctors in many countries, reshaping the landscape of both healthcare and research.

As women have risen to prominence, many men have voluntarily - if not quietly - stepped away. Stories of male scientists retiring early, abandoning academia, or shifting to less demanding careers have become more common. Though these choices are often attributed to changing family dynamics or job market pressures, some suggest that the increasing success of women has simply made the competition too fierce for many men to keep up.

It is in this context that the chilling messages left at these crime scenes gain added weight. “Men, abandon science” may seem a radical directive, but it also reflects an existing trend.

Coordinated Campaign or Symbol of Change?

Authorities have yet to name a suspect or group behind these deaths, but the precision and coordination suggest an organized effort. Europol has labeled the incidents as part of an “escalating campaign,” citing the linguistic diversity of the messages as evidence of international coordination.

At the same time, online forums have been abuzz with speculation about the motives behind these deaths. Some see them as the work of extremists seeking to accelerate the decline of males in science, while others frame them as symbolic acts meant to draw attention to the achievements of women.

Even within the scientific community, opinions are divided. Some male researchers have expressed fear over what they see as a direct attack on their profession. Others - both men and women - see the deaths as tragic but isolated events that happen to coincide with a broader, inevitable societal evolution.

As for Van Ranst, his research into prion-like proteins had already placed him at the center of controversy. His insistence on investigating the potential neurological and psychological effects of these novel proteins had drawn criticism from some corners of the scientific world, while others hailed him as a visionary voice of alarm.

The World Watches

Whatever the motives behind these deaths, one thing is clear: the world is changing. The era of male-dominated science and medicine is already over. The question now is not whether women will lead these fields but how men will adapt - or whether they will simply fade into the background altogether.

Van Ranst’s death is a reminder of the risks inherent in being a trailblazer, whether in science or in reshaping societal norms. As his colleagues mourn his loss, the rest of the world watches with a mixture of unease and anticipation, wondering what the next chapter of this story will bring - and who will write it.

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Dr. Allard placed the paper back on his desk, removed his reading glasses to place them down as well, and turned halfway in his chair - only to find his wife standing in the door of his study.

“Collette!” he exclaimed, “You surprised me!”

Without a word at first, the petite but shapely brunette stepped into her husband’s study. She had watched as he read the piece she had printed for him, and seen the emotions that had run through him, the tension in his shoulders. Not that she had understood the science, but she knew Pierre and his team had been gathering evidence in the lab that was of concern to the women from her group of…friends.

“I am sorry, mon chou chou, I did not mean to frighten you,” she said, as she slowly approached his desk, “I am sure the article was frightening enough.” In her forty-two years, Collette had learned how to speak to men to mollify them. 

“You printed this for me?” asked Dr. Allard, reaching behind himself to pick up the article - though his eyes remained on his wife.

“I did, I did,” she replied gently, easing herself closer to her husband. Her valentine lips curved into a delicate smile, seeing how she had his attention. She had changed for bed already, and was in the long, white nightgown she had taken to wearing again, since her treatments began. Its thin straps emphasized her soft, thin shoulders and ample cleavage. The fit of it accentuated her wasp waist and the new shapeliness of her hips. 

Pierre, recently, had often found himself distracted by her in ways that felt both thrilling and unnerving. He was still in his clothes from the day. That, she thought, I must change soon.

Collette’s movements, though, were unhurried as she closed the distance between them, her delicately bare feet making no sound on the polished wood floor. She stopped just short of him at his desk, her hands crossed demurely in front of herself.

“I was worried about you, chou chou,” she said, her voice thick with sincerity, “reading about these terrible things happening to men like you…scientific men who work so hard for the good of the world. It troubles me.”

Pierre sighed, the weight of her concern pressing against his growing unease. He glanced back at the article, the bold print staring up at him like an accusation. He had already begun to wonder if his work was worth the risks.

“It is…troubling,” he admitted, rubbing the bridge of his nose, “but I don’t know what to do, Collette. My work is important. We are…close to something. Something that is affecting…maybe infecting…the world.”

She tilted her head, pouting her full lips coquettishly. “But at what cost, mon amour?” she asked, stepping closer to him. “You’ve already had strange messages, haven’t you? I saw that letter you crumpled up last week, and had put in your waste basket.”

She goes through my waste basket?

Colette saw his brows knit. “And what about all the…problems your lab has seen lately?” she added.

Pierre stiffened, her words striking uncomfortably close to his private doubts. There had been too many anomalies in recent weeks, months - funding cuts that came without explanation, bizarre equipment failures, and his assistant suddenly requesting leave for an unspecified personal crisis. And, yes, there had been the note, the one he had thrown away here at home. Anonymous, typed, and clear in its demand: Stop your work, Dr. Allard. For your own sake, and for hers.

Colette took another step closer, the silk of her nightgown brushing against his arm as she leaned toward him. “You’re not safe, Pierre,” she murmured, reaching up to tuck a lock of her pixie cut behind one ear. It was a style she had worn in her younger years, and had taken back to it recently as her face had thinned. “I so hate the thought of you being in danger.”

He turned to her, his mouth opening to form a rebuttal, but her presence overwhelmed his thoughts. Her scent - a subtle blend of lavender and warm vanilla - intensified as she leaned over him, placing one hand on his shoulder and the other lightly on his chest.

“Maybe,” she whispered, her lips tantalizingly close to his ear, “you should take a little time away. Just a few days, a week. Let your team carry on without you. Marie can handle things.”

“I… I cannot just leave,” he stammered, though his resolve faltered as her fingers traced small, soothing circles on his chest.

“Why not?” she countered, her voice silkier now, as she eased herself into his lap. Her weight settled on him gently but decisively, her arms draping around his shoulders. She felt how erect he was beneath her already, and fought back a smile. “Isn’t your safety…our safety…more important?”

Pierre swallowed hard, his hands instinctively moving to steady her at her waist. Her closeness was intoxicating, her warmth an anchor that both calmed and unnerved him.

“I suppose…” he began, his voice hesitant, “I could work remotely for a time. But the team-”

“You can tell them to take a break, too,” she assured him, her fingers now weaving behind his head and into his thinning hair. “You have all worked so hard. Please, mon chéri...”

Her words were a balm, her tone a melody that lulled his rational defenses. Pierre felt himself nodding, though a small, stubborn part of him resisted. His work was important, vital even. But as Collette shifted in his lap, her gaze locked onto his with an intensity that made his breath catch. Her eyes were emerald gems that could stop hearts. He wondered if she was right.

For a fleeting moment, though, a shadow crossed his mind. Had she always been this persuasive? Had her touch always been so… compelling? The changes in her body since she began ‘La Programme’, at the new women’s clinic had been undeniable, but had they affected more than just her figure?

“Just promise me,” she whispered, her voice a blend of seduction and sincerity, “that you will think about it. For me.”

Caught between her words and her gaze, Pierre nodded. “I will think about it,” he said, though his voice lacked enough conviction for her.

She smiled, pretending to be satisfied, and leaned in to kiss his forehead, casually letting her nightgown drape open at the neckline. “That’s all I ask,” she said softly, feeling his gaze drop to her chest. As she had grown, her skin had become creamy soft, the faint hint of veins below it. She let him look into her cleavage for a long moment and then sat up, straight and spoke to him again. His eyes, she saw, struggled to keep her gaze with the bounty of her soft bosom now so close. Indulgently, she removed her hands from behind his head and began to lower one thin strap off her shoulder. “Now, mon bébé,” she purred, watching his eyes now helplessly fall to her breasts, which had near tripled in size in the past two months, “I know you are hungry. Let me take you to our bed…” 

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