Night
In the woods outside Rothamstead Experimental Station lurked a silver saucer-shaped saucer. Within, Nimrod sat thoughtfully at his bench.
“Well Sheela,” said he, gazing at his comrade’s shapely form as she tended an oscillator, “The first segment of our plan is successful. The scientist that was so close to discovering the secret of solaronite has been eliminated. So close, yet so not.”
“We must not rest upon our laurels” said Sheela, punching up a megatronic nid, “The scientist’s work still exists and may be taken up by others.”
“That is why we must resurrect the scientist in order that he may destroy that work. It’s funny,” mused Nimrod, “His life’s work will be ruined in but a few seconds while he himself is dead.”
“How is that funny?” asked Sheela “It is surely tragic.”
“The opinions of females are of no value.” said Nimrod.
Sheela tweaked a ploon.
Night. The graveyard. Tendrils of mist weaved through the stone monuments to those long dead, converging on the resting place of one but shortly dead. The black woods flared suddenly bright as a long cylinder of crackling light shot forth, striking the grave of John Furniture. The mists swirled expectantly above the spot as small electrical pulses ran across the newly dug soil, gradually dying away.
All grew quiet. All was dark
Leaving Keith Whicker’s Ford Anglia at the back entrance of the experimental station, he with Lillian Cranwell easily evaded the vigilant gaze of the late night security guards, who were stationed at the front entrance. Lillian unlocked the door to their laboratory and the two illicit particle physicists stole in and turned on the lights.
“This is John Furniture’s work”, said Lillian, indicating John Furniture’s work sprawled across his favourite bench. It had not yet been catalogued and cleared away.
“They do be leaving it be. Out of respec’ to a great man” said Keith reverentially. Lillian suspected it had more to do with the quality of the Norwegian cleaners, one of whom was chamois intolerant.
Lillian scanned Furniture’s most recent notes. Could it be? Yes. There was a long formula scrawled in shaky excited pencil. Beneath it was written a large “EUREK”. Beneath that, a pencil with a broken lead. She checked and double checked the formula. There could be no doubt: John Furniture had done that which he had set out to do, discover the secret of a brand new energy source that would solve many of the world’s problems (and cause some for Texas and the Middle East). Limitless power from the extrapolation of energy from the sunlight particles that entered the Earth’s atmosphere. The energy from just one particle would be immense.
“Keith”, began Lillian, “John is indeed a great man. He has made the discovery he had striven so long for. He has solved Man’s energy crisis for all time.”
“Tha’s be good. It do be a shame him dead an’ no mistaking” said Keith, “’If I know he, him’d like to be alive to see this.” Lillian could only agree sadly.
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