-------------------Brains & Buckets... And A Touch Of Scourer-------------------
Back in Earth's Twentieth century, there were some who saw reality as a mere
mathmatical equation, a set of numbers on paper that made perfect sense and yet,
had no 'physical' presence.... no touchy-feely stuff. Professor Charles Shaw wasn't
one of those people.
The eminent scholar had discussed time, space and all it's possibilities with fellow
professionals within the department at Los Alamos and discovered that the subject
tended to be 'skirted' around, it was an elephant in the room that made one look at
the floor and admire the carpet.
Boy In A Dress' potential as a prototype soldier, a being that could withstand terrible
temperatures, extreme pain and have the capabilities to despatch the enemy without
question, that was the focus.
The strange Military man with the chomped cigar and clipped moustache was back
and there'd been rumours that this brooding Major was moving the tests to Utah,
Professor Shaw wondered how approachable the man in the shiny-boots and shiny
Theoretical-quantum physics was still in it's infancy and the the fact that the smiling
eyeless humanoid could 'phase' in-and-out of this reality -seemed unimportant to the
the young men in lab coats that ran the tests on BIAD. When General Ramey 'poo-pooed'
Shaw's request to investigate BAID's unscheduled 'jaunts' the Professor had made
a silent vow to one-day, work on the subject with more vigour.
Especially after Ramey's ignorant response what potential there could be to help the
world in it's current climate.
"Listen Doc, this thing you've discovered may help us win wars that you haven't even
dreamt about..." the growling Major had snipped "...If we can duplicate this creature,
and ship 'em out, then maybe when the Ruskies finally roll over, then we'll look at
your time-reality-thing" The cloud of cigar smoke doubled as a symbolic curtain and
Charles went back to gassing and freezing the innocent Man/Girl that looked on him
as a Father.
It was late-February of 1960 and the world had gone crazy again.
The Russians had tossed two dogs and a few mice into space, four black kids had
succeeded in getting equal rights and a decent seat at a Woolworth's lunch counter
and England's Prime Minister -Harold MacMillan had made his 'Winds Of Change'
speech in regards of freeing-up some of South Africa's territories.
This latter-piece of news came from an odd-looking new guy that cleaned the hall-floors
and swabbed the lavatories, an Englishman called Jenkins.
"Aye it's a bugger alright..." the balding Maintenance Man chuntered as he mixed his eye
-stinging bleach into a bucket of hot water. "...My mate told me that we're slowly chopping
the Commonwealth up until there'll be nothin' left! Maybe it's time that folk went there own
The sound of slopping water and heavy-breathing accompanied the Janitor's view on how
the world was changing, and still the intruding voice into Charles' studying went on.
"You know Doc, in another time and place... it could be that one day, all countries will
live in a free-will society" Jenkins offered and went back to whispering sweet-words of
encouragement into the metal container.
The Professor nodded out of politeness and focused on his notes, BIAD had reported feeling
a tingling in his chest area during his time in the Freezer and Shaw pondered the idea that
the hermaphrodite was internally manufacturing an anti-freeze.
The Limey grumbled on.
"I see Elvis is comin' home from Germany, huh?" he asked as he began to soak the mop
into the dubious cleaning concoction. Jenkins had pulled a tubular container from his
dungaree side-pocket and sprinkled it's contents onto the surface, the gaudy words
proclaimed the contents were 'Vim'
Charles Shaw lifted his spectacles and rubbed the red marks on either side of his nose, a
Tuesday morning in a top-secret facility was hardly the time to debate current-affairs of
so-called Rock 'n Roll musicians.
"I don't mean to be awkward, but I am trying to work here" he said slowly without looking
up from his papers. Jenkins muttered a sorry and moved off to devour any bacteria that
dared to oppose cleanliness.
... a high reading of salts and traces of Methanol in the bloodstream suggests that the
subject can halt deterioration of blood cells during low temperatures and afterwards.
The proteins are still valid and indications of a glycerol-type solution is manufactured...
"Do you want the floor under your desk cleaning, Doc?" the voice asked from behind
Professor Shaw, a glycerol-type solution would be quite a feat to create internally -he
thought and sighed at the request to move.
edit on 23-11-2012 by A boy in a dress because: Left Tardis in Edit Room.