Harold walked into the laboratory and once again wondered if the whole thing might be an elaborate hoax, or a spot on candid camera. The place looked straight from the set of a Frankenstein movie or a splash page from a steampunk graphic novel. Beakers were filled with bubbling liquids of a panoply of colors and viscosities; test tubes whirled in centrifuges with regular soft klinks; a computer that looked to be from the early eighties hummed in the corner attached to a box that was currently glowing and running a countdown. And sure enough, there in the corner was a Jacob's Ladder, albeit a small one that barely sparked and popped, but the scene would not have been complete without it. But the chalk board caught Harold's attention; he'd expected it to be covered in symbol's representing things like Ohms, imaginary numbers, Plank's number, pi or whatever symbols physicists use that he wouldn't recognize, and that was the point. There were arcane symbols Harold did recognize, symbols found on the set of cards he was carrying in his shoulder bag and that he had chalked onto the floor hundreds of times in his life.
"Eureka!" shouted someone triumphantly. Harold turned and through the window of an adjoining office Harold could see the curiously brunette buzz-cut head of who he could only assume was Dr. Akroyd. Harold had expected coiffured intimations of Christopher Lloyd's Doc. But then sealing stereotypes, Dr. Akroyd had what looked like welding goggles perched on his brow. Dr. Akroyd was bent furiously typing over another computer in his office, brow furrowed and eyes wild, but focused.
The glowing box began to beep on the second as the last minute ran down. Dr. Akroyd leapt from his seat grabbing a pair of tongs from his desk covered in papers and the inevitable devices fit for the drawings of Rube Goldberg. Tongs in hand, Dr. Akroyd sprinted into the laboratory lowering his goggles and staring into the device as it chimed 10..9..8..7..6..5..4..3..2..DING! "Yes!" he shouted and ripping open the door inserted the tongs and carefully drew out a beaker full of an effervescing and ebon potion which he set upon a stand and began to drain through a series of spiraling glass tubes. Dr. Akroyd kept a careful eye upon its progress until it reached its final stage releasing from another beaker an opalescent catalyst flowing into a common shaft, swirling into an marmoreal elixir that with a quick flick of a valve emptied into a coffee mug.
"You should consider just using an espresso machine." Harold said. Dr. Akroyd's head snapped up from intently studying the stream of java and cream.
"Ah, frell!" Akroyd cried and quickly twist the valve shutting off the half and half.
"Eureka!" shouted someone triumphantly. Harold turned and through the window of an adjoining office Harold could see the curiously brunette buzz-cut head of who he could only assume was Dr. Akroyd. Harold had expected coiffured intimations of Christopher Lloyd's Doc. But then sealing stereotypes, Dr. Akroyd had what looked like welding goggles perched on his brow. Dr. Akroyd was bent furiously typing over another computer in his office, brow furrowed and eyes wild, but focused.
The glowing box began to beep on the second as the last minute ran down. Dr. Akroyd leapt from his seat grabbing a pair of tongs from his desk covered in papers and the inevitable devices fit for the drawings of Rube Goldberg. Tongs in hand, Dr. Akroyd sprinted into the laboratory lowering his goggles and staring into the device as it chimed 10..9..8..7..6..5..4..3..2..DING! "Yes!" he shouted and ripping open the door inserted the tongs and carefully drew out a beaker full of an effervescing and ebon potion which he set upon a stand and began to drain through a series of spiraling glass tubes. Dr. Akroyd kept a careful eye upon its progress until it reached its final stage releasing from another beaker an opalescent catalyst flowing into a common shaft, swirling into an marmoreal elixir that with a quick flick of a valve emptied into a coffee mug.
"You should consider just using an espresso machine." Harold said. Dr. Akroyd's head snapped up from intently studying the stream of java and cream.
"Ah, frell!" Akroyd cried and quickly twist the valve shutting off the half and half.
