A tub of yoghurt left in the shared fridge of a Melbourne university's microbiology department has reached a stage of development few in the building are willing to disturb, having sat unclaimed for long enough that its contents are now considered, by general consensus, "doing something."
The yoghurt's origins are unclear. No one on the current floor claims ownership, and several staff members interviewed suggested it may predate their own tenure in the department entirely. What is agreed upon is that it has not been thrown out, despite ample opportunity, on account of what one PhD candidate described as "professional curiosity, mostly, but also a little bit of fear."
"Nobody wants to be the one who ends it," she said, glancing at the tub through the fridge door with something closer to respect than disgust. "At this point it's basically got tenure."
The yoghurt has reportedly developed a distinct colour gradient, a faint but persistent smell confined almost entirely to the bottom shelf, and, according to one postdoc who examined it "purely out of professional interest," a level of microbial diversity that would, in different circumstances, make a reasonable conference poster.
"I'm not saying we should publish," the postdoc clarified. "I'm saying someone could."
A handwritten sign taped to the fridge door some months ago, reading "please label and date your food," is understood to have been written in direct response to the yoghurt, and has since become something of a department in-joke, referenced by staff whenever anything new and unidentified appears on the shelves.
Attempts to have the yoghurt formally removed have stalled twice, both times on the grounds that no one felt qualified to make the call. A proposal to relocate it to an actual lab bench for observation was raised once, informally, and swiftly declined by the department's safety officer.
The yoghurt continues its slow work on the bottom shelf, entirely unsupervised and, by most accounts, thriving.