Mad Scientist Journal: Spring 2012

By Dawn Vogel and Jeremy Zimmerman

This anthology collects the first three months of Mad Scientist Journal in one book. In addition to new fiction by Jamie Lackey, this book includes tales by S.R. Algernon, Folly Blaine, Kathryn Board, Mike Bryant, Pete Butler, Thomas Canfield, Jetse de Vries, Mark Andrew Edwards, James Ford, C. Gerard, J.A. Grier, Jimmy Grist, Wayne Helge, Katherine Indovina, Davin Ireland, Rosemary Jones, Brandon Ketchum, Susan Urbanek Linville, Nathaniel K. Miller, Rum Moreau, Torrey Podmajersky, D.K. Snape, and Suzanne van Rooyen. Art by Eleanor Leonne Bennett, Katie Nyborg, and Andi Pace.

• Language: English
• Publisher: DefCon One Publishing
• Release date: Aug 13, 2012
• ISBN: 9781476100395

Dawn Vogel

Dawn Vogel has been published as a short fiction author and an editor of both fiction and non-fiction. Her academic background is in history, so it’s not surprising that much of her fiction is set in earlier times. By day, she edits reports for historians and archaeologists. In her alleged spare time, she runs a craft business, helps edit Mad Scientist Journal, and tries to find time for writing. She lives in Seattle with her awesome husband (and fellow author), Jeremy Zimmerman, and their herd of cats.

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Mad Scientist Journal: Spring 2012

Edited by Jeremy Zimmerman and Dawn Vogel

Cover Illustration by Andi Pace

Cover Layout by Katie Nyborg

Copyright 2012 Jeremy Zimmerman, except where noted

Smashwords Edition

The Dissection of Marcus Wade is Copyright 2012 Kathryn Board.

The Barrier is Copyright 2012 James Ford.

The Ghosts of Ganymede is Copyright 2012 Suzanne van Rooyen.

Proton Pursuit is Copyright 2012 D.K. Snape.

The Exploded Manifestations of Ari Ascher is Copyright 2012 Nathaniel K. Miller.

Our Crystal Sky Is Cracking is Copyright 2012 Rosemary Jones.

Losing It is Copyright 2012 Davin Ireland.

Therium 99 and Wanted: Lab Rat Assistant are Copyright 2012 Mark Andrew Edwards

The Natural History of Carnivorism in Unicorns, LKYYD BOFFLE MARDEN, BEAT THE ICK WITH PARADOX SALVE, and QUALITY LAB ASSISTANCE are Copyright 2012 Torrey Podmajersky.

An Arcane Methodology to Reach a Perfect World is Copyright 2012 Jetse de Vries.

Who's Yer Mummy is Copyright 2012 Mike Bryant.

Encore is Copyright 2012 Thomas Canfield.

An Experimental Excursion in Artificially Amplifying Armoured Animalia is Copyright 2012 Jimmy Grist.

The Prince's Quest and Free to a Good Home are Copyright 2012 Jamie Lackey.

For Sale: Used Laboratory Equipment is Copyright 2012 J.A. Grier.

FOR SALE: One Insta-Portal Summoning Gate and WANTED: One mechanized exoskeleton are Copyright 2012 S.R. Algernon.

For Sale: Miniature clone shoes, Nemesis wanted, and Need roommates to share are Copyright 2012 Folly Blain.

Estate Sale is Copyright 2012 Susan Urbanek Linville.

ATOMIC GOLF CLUBS FOR SALE and ADOPT A MONSTROSITY are Copyright 2012 Pete Butler.

In-House Exterminator Needed is Copyright 2012 C. Gerard.

JOIN US! MISSED CONNECTION, WANTED: Cold War-era Soviet Union aircraft, and TEST SUBJECTS WANTED are Copyright 2012 Dawn Vogel.

88 Miles Per Hour is Copyright 2012 Wayne Helge.

Pulchritudinous Professor seeks Sexy Scientific Sage is Copyright 2012 Brandon Ketchum.

'Statue' Seeks Escape is Copyright 2012 Rum Moreau.

WANTED: Tranquilizer Gun ASAP is Copyright 2012 Katherine Indovina.

Illustrations accompanying The Dissection of Marcus Wade, The Barrier, The Ghosts of Ganymede, Our Crystal Sky is Cracking, Therium 99, The Natural History of Carnivorism, and Encore are Copyright 2012 Katie Nyborg.

Photos accompanying An Arcane Methodology to Reach a Perfect World and Who's Yer Mummy are Copyright 2012 Eleanor Leonne Bennett.

Illustration accompanying An Experimental Excursion in Artificially Amplifying Armoured Animalia is Copyright 2012 Dawn Vogel

All stock art is courtesy of 123RF

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Table of Contents

The Dissection of Marcus Wade

The Barrier

The Ghosts of Ganymede

Proton Pursuit

The Exploded Manifestations of Ari Ascher

Our Crystal Sky Is Cracking

Losing It

Therium 99

The Natural History of Carnivorism in Unicorns

An Arcane Methodology to Reach a Perfect World

Who's Yer Mummy

Encore

An Experimental Excursion in Artificially Amplifying Armoured Animalia

The Prince's Quest

Classifieds

Bios for Classified Authors

About the Editors

About the Artists

The Dissection of Marcus Wade

An essay by Abigail Figg, presented by Kathryn Board

Illustration by Katie Nyborg.

Abigail, I think I just caught a ghost!

Only one person on Earth would call me at five o'clock in the morning. And that one person was certifiably insane--in a mother earth, psychic medium, chakra-opening kind of way. She also happened to be my little sister and knew I didn't sleep more than four hours on any given night.

Alright, Lex, I'll bite, I said. What do you mean you caught a ghost?  You mean you caught a picture of a ghost?

No. I mean I have a ghost trapped in a pickle jar. You have to come over.

I closed my cosmology book. I was just getting to the part about the origins of the Big Bang and the collapse of an eleven-dimension universe. You, know ... the good stuff. But a ghost in a pickle jar? That was a new one.

I glanced at the clock again. I'm lecturing to an undergrad quantum physics class in three hours and you're all the way out in farm country. Can't you bring your pickle jar over here?

No, I want to keep the ghost on the stove.

That took a minute to sink in. You want to keep the ghost on the stove? I finally repeated.

Trust me, Abs. Just come.

So, I did. I mean how do you say no to that?

#

I pulled up to her little cottage just as the sun was breaking the horizon and I was promptly met by two cats. I knew them well: Yin and Yang. Hey guys, I said lifting Yin onto my shoulder and cradling Yang in my arms. Let's go see if your momma finally went off the deep end. But the second I took two steps towards the front door, Yin jumped down and Yang scratched me struggling to get out of my arms.

What's the problem? I asked. They were indoor cats. Sometimes they ventured into the yard but usually they were about as outdoorsy as me. Now, they were huddled under the rhododendrons, their ears back, looking like I had betrayed them to a Rottweiler. I didn't have time to contemplate it for long; Lexie threw open her front door.

Abigail! Come on! I can't wait for you to see this! She had on a sundress and flip-flops, her long brown hair tucked into a loose braid. We looked nothing alike. I used to tease her that Mom and Dad picked her out of a box of baby spider monkeys and was shocked when she grew into a girl. For a while she believed me.

Lexie pulled me straight through her living room, past the little table where she did Tarot and palm readings, and into her kitchen. It always smelled like dried herbs and lavender oil in there.

Look, Lexie said, pointing at t\he stove.

There was a pickle jar sitting directly on a burner over a low gas flame. Why the glass wasn't cracking from the heat stress was a complete mystery. And it wasn't the only mystery in the kitchen. Inside the pickle jar was...something. I crossed the room to get a closer look.

Whatever was in the jar glowed. No, not just glowed. It shined. My first thought was that it looked like an atom blown up to the size of a baseball: a bright, almost perfectly round nucleus surrounded by the hazy glow of orbiting electrons. Except the nucleus of an atom would be solid and this thing, whatever it was, had a hint of transparency.

When Lexie said she trapped a ghost, I imagined a white mist. Or, knowing Lex, it could have been an empty jar and her stubborn insistence that something lurked inside. She seemed to read my mind. It's an orb, she said. That's how some spirits manifest. This little guy has been bugging me for about six months. And get this-- She grabbed my hand and, before I could stop her, she pressed my fingers against the glass jar.

It's...cold, I said. The heat from the stove rose in convections that I could see, but the jar felt refrigerated. It's endothermic, I whispered. Lexie gave me a puzzled look. It's using the heat from the environment like a power supply.

I know, right? Lexie said. Watch. She lifted the jar with her bare hands and held it away from the stove. The orb dimmed and dimmed and dimmed, until it was nothing more than the faintest glow. Condensation formed on the glass. She set the jar back on the stove and the orb flared brightly again.

I don't know what to say, I told her. My mind was racing, trying to think of some scientific explanation. It wasn't a ghost. It couldn't be a ghost. I knew that for a fact because there wasn't any such thing.

She grinned and poured me a cup of coffee out of the percolator. Say that it's awesome. Say that I was right and you were wrong and the spirits of the dead really are among us.

I sat down at the kitchen table. I wouldn't go that far....

Oh, c'mon Abs, she said, setting my cup down in front of me. "I happen to know that this is the spirit of Marcus Wade. He's an old alcoholic that used to live here and he shot himself fifteen years ago."

And you know that because....

He told me. Also, I checked the local tax records and death certificates because I knew you'd be a pain in the ass about this. And guess how I got him in the jar.

I have no idea.

Vodka, she said, looking ridiculously pleased with herself. I put a little in the bottom and he went right after it. I put a binding spell on the jar but I never thought it would work. I didn't know you could trap a ghost in a pickle jar with just a simple binding spell.

Of course she didn't. That was because it made no goddamn sense. Of course, Lexie very rarely made sense to sensible people. OK, Lex, I finally said in a tired voice. You think you've got a spirit in a jar. Why on Earth did you call me?  You should be calling one of those paranormal investigators.

I called you because you're a skeptic and I need your help.

Oh God. Help doing what?

Well, I was thinking this is a really unique opportunity. People catch pictures and EVP's and cold spots all the time...  I really wanted to argue with that, but I stayed quiet. ...but having something like this at our disposal is completely new. I was thinking that maybe we could run a few experiments before I tell everyone what I found. I already did the heat thing because I noticed the jar was cold.

And now you want to...what?

Dissect him.

I looked at her. You want to dissect an 'orb'?

I figured that's the first thing a scientist does when they find a new species, right?

No, Lex. They don't immediately slice the thing from stem to stern. They observe, take notes....

I've been observing Marcus for six months. I think dissection is the next step.

And do you have some idea of how we might achieve this?

She smiled. I could tell from the look on her face, before she even spoke, that this was the real reason for the five AM phone call. Well, actually, I was thinking about you and your prisms....

Suddenly, I understood exactly what she wanted. Scientific curiosity nudged me, even though I thought she was a little bit crazy. I couldn't help but admit to myself that she might be on to something.

Let me go back home, I told her. I'll take care of my eight o'clock class and grab a few things. I'll be back before lunch.

#

After my very distracted lecture on light quanta and color, I went back to my house, grabbed my biggest prism off my desk, and raced back to Lexie's place. I've kept a collection of prisms since I was eight and learned about how they bend light. I tried to explain how they worked to Lexie, but she complained that my science 'took all of the magic out of rainbows.' So it was kind of ironic that she wanted my scientific help now.

I didn't even have the first hypothesis about what was going to happen. If we could manage to get the orb to pass through the prism at the right angle, it could make a rainbow. Or a partial rainbow. It might give me some clue as to what the thing was made of. After all, the spectrum of a star is what astronomers used to determine its composition. Maybe this 'orb' wasn't anything more than a ball of glowing gas.

Lexie met me at the door. Her cats were nowhere in sight. I think I have everything we need, she said, a flush high on her cheeks. You ready?

Yep. She drew me through the living room. Her house was broiling. It's like ninety degrees in here, I said, taking off my blazer and unbuttoning my top button.

I've got the heat all the way up, she said. That way, hopefully, we'll be able to see what happens.

The pickle jar was still on the stove in the kitchen, but Lexie had turned it on its side, facing the counter top. The Jim Beam is in the cabinet, she said. I didn't want Marcus getting all excited before we're ready.

You're sure he'll go for the whisky? I asked.

I'm positive. He told me a hundred times that Jim Beam was his favorite. I only used vodka to get him in the jar because I already had some.

I'm going to have to guesstimate at the angles, I said, pulling the huge prism out of my bag. It was made of clear glass, its top and base equilateral triangles, and each of its three sides a rectangle about a foot high and half as wide. I thought it was the most beautiful thing I owned.

I set the prism on the counter right in front of the pickle jar lid. Then, I set a shot glass on the counter top on the other side of the prism. I adjusted the angles, hoping that we would catch the orb right. Hell, I hoped we would catch the orb at all. If Marcus didn't make a straight line for the whisky, all our efforts would be moot. Finally, I decided that I couldn't do any better.

Ready? I asked.

Lexie's eyes shone. I am so ready.

OK, I said, backing away. It's your show.

She poured some of the whisky into the shot glass and dribbled a little on the counter in front of where we wanted the orb to enter the prism. The sharp, sweet odor filled the hot room. Then Lexie opened the pickle jar.

The orb floated out, its light pulsating. It paused over the dribbled whisky and seemed to get brighter. Lexie stood by the shot glass. Oh, Marcus, she sing-songed. There's more over here.

I shouldn't have worried about anything. The orb didn't hesitate. In fact, it moved so fast, I actually jumped back a step. It shot directly into the prism.

For a long moment, it didn't come out. Nothing happened. Lexie glanced at me and then back at the prism. I edged a little closer. Look, I said. There.

A black ... something poured out of the prism. It was like a very dense shadow. It pooled on the counter top and slid towards the shot glass until it covered whisky and glass like a black veil. A moment later, something else popped out of the prism. It looked like a roiling cloud of glitter about the size of a pack of cards and it headed straight for Lexie. She jumped back but then she stopped.

Marcus? she said. Its sparkles seemed to grow brighter. It hovered right in front of her face. She fanned it with her fingertips and giggled. He's so happy, she said. He's like a little kid.

If that's Marcus and he's happy, then what's that? I asked indicating towards the black shadow. Before I knew what she was doing, Lexie dipped her fingertips into the shadow. Jesus, Lex. Don't do that, I told her.

No. It's OK, she said. But her face had gone pale, despite the heat in the room. I think...I think it's his negativity. Touch him.

I knew it was a stupid thing to do, but since Lexie hadn't lost her finger, I touched the shadow, too. Coldness ran up my arm and my heart started to pound. I felt just like I