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Info
Title: A funny thing
Author:Seyph
Translator:Agent Stanislav
Date Published: 4 janvier 2020
Image :
January 5, more or less quarter to twelve AM.
It was never truly the exact hour since we had changed the battery of the clock during a very slight mistake which had sent a part of the garage into space. A dumb story about general relativity.
We quickly get used to that: Not only could we reuse the aforementioned batteries in the anti-gravity frying pan prototype, but it had also stretched the aperitif time.
By the way, talking of aperitif…
"Who've put the Funny Blue Liquid Experience in the fridge?"
A slight burp makes itself heard.
"I've told you that stocking that in the Despe bottles was a bad idea…
- Ok, but we fucked up the last conical flask last week. Well, had to find a solution.
- Hmmm."
Anyway the two others have already started to return to a solid state. No need to worry.
January 5, sometime around twelve past a quarter AM.
The funny blue liquid had some secondary effects.
"….ZE SCP FOUNDACHION ZTHIS IS MORON'NYWAY! AM SURE THEY'RE F'CKING ILLUMINA… ILLUMINI…
- Wah, any ideas on how to counter the effects?
- Should ask Pierre…
- Pierre is right out on a trip with the coffee table.
- …REPTILIANS!
- Ah."
January 5, not so far from two PM.
"Fuck that shit this hangover….
- Eurgh…
- Aspirin?
- Three pills plizeuh."
This already was the after party. Fortunately, the saying “methodical upchuck and confessing to the toilet seat” passed quickly.
Honestly, the more we thought about it, the more interesting the phrase was.
The two unintentional test subjects proved by example the multitude of possibilities that the anomalous can unlock. That was surprising, exciting, anyway, this was the reason of being of the association. And of this Foundation. And many others groups maybe!
And that was awesome.
"Heu… I… guess you maybe want your knickers back?"
January 5, at a sliver of twenty past three PM.
"I suggest Express Effect Curaçao.
- That missing of… Zing, you see? It's not a name who makes dream.
- And above all that's not Curaçao.
- Yeah, that too.
- So make some suggestions!"
Long silence.
"Solvoethylic liquid?"
It sounded good. It didn’t mean anything grand but we felt the science behind it. The proposal had been approved.
After all, a scientific name was needed to really officialise a discovery. It was a great principle that made no inventor ever ashamed of their creations. Because it mattered little if the telluric psychotron was desperatly amorphous, if it at least had a classy name.
January 5, scarcely more than five PM.
We decided, after a quasi-soviet vote, to share the formula with the world… We were in a philanthropic mood. Now, for that the world can be aware of it, we had to think big.
The letter started like this:
January 5, after numerous reflexions.
"How many stamps I put on it?"
January 8, 8h57 PM.
A suspicious-looking package took center stage on the desk of Dr. Cynthia Merkeslet, and Dr. Cynthia Merkeslet felt her stomach fold into itself as she read the instructions that came with it. Her nails had already dug little holes at the corners. In fact, that was a quite predictable reaction from her, in view of those senders.
The slav Assistant Pontaichet poked his head through the door frame. He had a personal conviction against entering, ever since the dark incident when he had nearly died strangled in this office. He shooed the memories out of his head and asked with an amiable air:
"Need help chief?"
A dangerous atmosphere lingers a moment, while an irritated silence answers him.
"…and euh, are you sure than that in your expertise field, the alchemical fluid?
-…
- Are you really really sure?
- That’s for ME to resolve that!
"That" designated quite more than the package and the letter. It was a goal, an obligation, a crusade! You just need to replace the Moors by a group of fools who wrote crookedly.
The assistant closed his mouth, while his tutor continued her train of thought in silence.
"If you can deduce the use of this thing by the interpretation of the sentence "we found the solution to resolve the problem of student precarity", maybe we can know if there is a way to manipulate it without destroying a building."
This was going to be a looong night.
The young man closed the door carefully.
"I'm going to borrow some coffee from doctor Caleb…."