Mad Scientist Journal: Spring 2013

By DefCon One Publishing

Undead love, clog dancing aliens, succubi and giant slugs. These are but some of the strange tales to be found in this book.

Mad Scientist Journal: Spring 2013 collects three months worth of essays from the fictional worlds of mad science. Included are four new pieces of fiction written for the discerning mad scientist readers written by K.C. Ball, David D. Levine, Cat Rambo, and Trent Walters. Readers will also find other resources for the budding mad scientist, including an advice column and other brief messages from mad scientists.

Authors featured in this volume also include K. Esta, Mathew Allen Garcia, Janka Hobbs, K. S. O'Neill, J.J. Roth, Megan Vogel, Richard Zwicker, Zoe McAuley, Jason Lairamore, Myke Edwards, Michael Rettig, K.G. Jewell, Diana Parparita, Torrey Podmajersky, Andy Brown, and Parker McKenzie. Illustrations are provided by Scarlett O'Hairdye, Shannon Legler, Luke Spooner, Katie Nyborg, and Justine McGreevy.

• Language: English
• Publisher: DefCon One Publishing
• Release date: Jun 30, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301945368

Book preview

Mad Scientist Journal: Spring 2013

Edited by Jeremy Zimmerman and Dawn Vogel

Cover Illustration and Layout by Scarlett O'Hairdye

Copyright 2013 Jeremy Zimmerman, except where noted

Smashwords Edition

Mabel's Mission is Copyright 2013 K. Esta

The Black Spot is Copyright 2013 Mathew Allen Garcia

An Encounter with Hemphillia candelabrum is Copyright 2013 Janka Hobbs

Protocol 3.1 is Copyright 2013 K. S. O'Neill

Evolutionary Tendencies Observed in the Callentradian Snare is Copyright 2013 J.J. Roth

Oenophilia is Copyright 2013 Megan Vogel

The Monster is the Father to the Child is Copyright 2013 Richard Zwicker

Experimental Eschatology: Key Definitions in an Emergent Field is Copyright 2013 Zoe McAuley

Safety in Quiet is Copyright 2013 Jason Lairamore

Don't Tell — A Tale of Boredom and Hawaiian Shirts is Copyright 2013 Myke Edwards

Chuck the Alien is Copyright 2013 Michael Rettig

Hazelwitch vs. Hazelwitch is Copyright 2013 K.G. Jewell

A Case Study of the Side Effects of Nauseamin and their Possible Treatment and Make Your Own God - DIY Kit are Copyright 2013 Diana Parparita

One Night in O'Shaughnessy's Bar is Copyright 2013 David D. Levine

Prophetic Lobster Man is Copyright 2013 Cat Rambo

Monsters of the Id is Copyright 2013 Trent Walters

Alice, When She's Ten Feet Tall is Copyright 2013 K.C. Ball

Ask Dr. Synthia is Copyright 2013 Torrey Podmajersky

Barney's Time Travelling Butcher's, Guillaume's Gorgeous Greenhouse, The Bookshop of Samir Al Farsi, and Leepro Shanalla's Travel Agency are Copyright 2013 Andy Brown

For Sale (Time Machine) , Hiring, Missing (Vehicle), Missing (Virus), Advertising, and Buying are Copyright 2013 Parker McKenzie

For Sale or Trade, Pyramid Scheme, Seeking a Scientific Penpal, and Wanted to Buy are Copyright 2013 Dawn Vogel

Art accompanying Mabel's Mission is Copyright 2013 Shannon Legler

Art accompanying The Black Spot, Protocol 3.1, and Don't Tell — A Tale of Boredom and Hawaiian Shirts are Copyright 2013 Luke Spooner

Art accompanying An Encounter with Hemphillia candelabrum and The Monster Is the Father to the Child are Copyright 2013 Katie Nyborg

Art accompanying Evolutionary Tendencies Observed in the Callentradian Snare and Chuck the Alien are Copyright 2013 Justine McGreevy

Photograph accompanying Oenophilia is Copyright 2013 Megan Vogel

Photographs accompanying Experimental Eschatology: Key Definitions in an Emergent Field and Hazelwitch vs. Hazelwitch are Copyright 2013 Dawn Vogel

Photograph accompanying Safety in Quiet is Copyright 2013 Eleanor Leonne Bennett

Cover Illustration and illustration accompanying A Case Study of the Side Effects of Nauseamin and their Possible Treatment are Copyright 2013 Scarlett O'Hairdye

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

Essays

"Mabel's Mission" provided by K. Esta

"The Black Spot" provided by Mathew Allen Garcia

"An Encounter with Hemphillia candelabrum" provided by Janka Hobbs

"Protocol 3.1" provided by K. S. O'Neill

"Evolutionary Tendencies Observed in the Callentradian Snare" provided by J.J. Roth

"Oenophilia" provided by Megan Vogel

"The Monster is the Father to the Child" provided by Richard Zwicker

"Experimental Eschatology: Key Definitions in an Emergent Field" provided by Zoe McAuley

"Safety in Quiet" provided by Jason Lairamore

"Don't Tell — A Tale of Boredom and Hawaiian Shirts" provided by Myke Edwards

"Chuck the Alien" provided by Michael Rettig

"Hazelwitch vs. Hazelwitch" provided by K.G. Jewell

"A Case Study of the Side Effects of Nauseamin and their Possible Treatment" provided by Diana Parparita

Fiction

"One Night in O'Shaughnessy's Bar" by David D. Levine

"Prophetic Lobster Man" by Cat Rambo

"Monsters of the Id" by Trent Walters

"Alice, When She's Ten Feet Tall" by K.C. Ball

Resources

"Ask Dr. Synthia" provided by Torrey Podmajersky

Classifieds

About

Bios for Classifieds Authors

About the Editors

About the Artists

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Mabel's Mission

An essay by Mabel Foster, as provided by K. Esta

Art by Shannon Legler

Unfortunately for most mad scientists in this world--sorry I shouldn't say mad. That's what I keep hearing everyone else around here call you. I know some of you don't like it, and rightfully so, it isn't very nice.

How about ... capricious? I think it's fair to say that's an accurate description. Unfortunately for most capricious scientists in this world, most people don't have the stomach to handle the consequences of, shall we say, especially bold experiments. They simply don't understand that a certain latitude is required to cultivate genius and reap the rewards.

Thus, in this world, many of you are relegated to basements, abandoned buildings, or, worst of all, the underworld of derelict subway tunnels and sewer systems to carry out your brilliant work. Sadly, this also means that most of you will never reach your full, and glorious, potential.

Well, imagine a world where capricious scientists, such as yourselves, have free reign. I just so happen to come from such a world. Honestly, I am from another world. I came here to hide from my boss. I don't mean that he intends to murder me or anything, but he gave me a job to do and I failed. Well, I sort of failed. We'll get to that.

I arrived here through an interdimensional portal--now, don't act so surprised, someone was bound to figure out those interdimensional portals eventually. I'm sorry if any of you have devoted a considerable amount time to the pursuit of interdimensional portals, but someone from the other side has beaten you to the punch. Now, if you can put your skepticism and bruised egos aside for the moment, I've decided to give you a glimpse of my world--or at least my experience in it.

I'd like share the story with someone who won't try to put me in a mental institution. For the record, my world doesn't have mental institutions. Since coming here, I've already had to escape them twice and it's getting rather tiresome. I feel confident, however, that you will be more open minded than my previous audiences.

#

My name is Mabel, Mabel Foster (and yes, bananas Foster happens to be my favorite dessert, but that's just a coincidence). My world is a dynamic one. I don't think of it as chaotic, but I think that you probably would. In a society run by mad (sorry) capricious scientists, one wakes up to a new reality just about every day.

One day the sky is blue, the next day it's green--Dr. Kaleido's refraction experiment. One day you go out shopping in the morning and come home in the afternoon to find that your subdivision, most of the continent's east coast in fact, is now underwater--Dr. Eureka's displacement experiment.

If such things occurred in your world, I suspect people might get upset, but try to understand that, in my world, it's just the way things are. Some changes are good, some are bad. Either way, people adapt and move on.

Something else that's important to understand is that most of the population where I come from has been subject to an experiment or two at some point in their lifetime. Those few who have not been subject to experiments, and who come from a lineage free of experimentation, like me, are known as originals. The majority of originals work as scientists' assistants.

Scientists prefer having assistants with a stable genome as it makes for more predictable behavior. Or so they say (I may have recently disproven that hypothesis).

My boss is Dr. Dick Handcock. No, I am not kidding. And no, I did not misspell Handcock. Nor is Dick short for Richard--at least, I've never heard anyone call him Richard. Most people just call him Dr. Dick. Before you feel sorry for him, let me assure you that the name suits the man perfectly.

Dr. Dick is just over five feet tall, stout, and has black hair that he always combs straight back to show off his very Dracula-esque widow's peak. To compliment this look, no matter where he is, or what he is working on, he is adorned in a full on tuxedo with sequined lapels. He also perpetually wears an expression that I believe inspired the phraseology surrounding sour grapes.

Anyway, Dr. Dick is a marine geneticist who, shortly after the fallout from Dr. Eureka's experiment, got the idea that it might be useful if people could breathe under water. After a few mishaps (if you ever have the mind to try a similar line of research, skip the attempt to cross human DNA with that of a viperfish ... or a blue-ringed octopus ... or electric eels ... ya know what? Maybe you should just pick a different line of research), Dr. Dick was successful in creating a group of people with lungs that could absorb oxygen from either air or water.

It was very thrilling, and Dr. Dick was excited to run a battery of performance tests to determine the limits of the water-breathing people's underwater capabilities (I even saw him half smile once while he was discussing it with a colleague). Regrettably, the day of the field tests, things went a little awry.

The morning started out pleasant enough. The sky was still green, which made things a little creepy, but it was clear and the water was calm. We were on an old wooden trawler large enough for all of us (Dr. Dick, eight subjects, and I) to gather comfortably on the aft deck.

The subjects were being sent out in pairs to complete various tasks, with their bodies covered in monitoring equipment. The subjects seemed a bit sullen, but I didn't think much of it, as they were always a bit sullen. I was focused on my job, which was mainly to record their progress and the corresponding equipment readings.

The trouble began around midday. The first indication of a problem came from Jasper and Quinn who, up until that point, had been content to sit and quietly bask in the sun with only passive interest in the activities being carried by Dr. Dick and me.

Jasper and Quinn are my pet beavers. Before you picture the animal you know as a beaver, let me point out that humans are not the only ones in my world to be affected by the ruling class of capricious scientists. Both Jasper and Quinn are about the size and shape you might expect of a beaver, but Jasper's fur is periwinkle purple and Quinn's is electric blue.

They both have twin tails, each about half the size of a typical beaver tail, overlapping at the base and fanning out at the tips like a pair of playing cards being held in someone's hand. Their tails and ears are lemon yellow.

Jasper and Quinn were happily sprawled at my feet when, all of a sudden, they both jumped as if they'd heard a loud noise. Then they began skittering around the deck and squawking (do beavers in this world squawk? If not, let me tell you it's a very irritating noise).

Dr. Dick immediately began to berate me for losing control of my animals, and I frantically attempted to round them up. While I was running around like a headless chicken, two of the ship's crew, Lester and Hamish, appeared on deck.

Occasionally, I'll admit, I am jealous of people who have gained useful abilities, or intriguing physical attributes as a result of successful scientific ventures. I would love, for example, to have the ability of our most recent subjects to breathe under water. Lester and Hamish, however, made me thankful to be an original. These two were a sight to behold.

Lester was completely and utterly hairless with reddish, thick and gristly skin that reminded me of something between a decaying statue and an unravelled mummy. The orifices that served as his eyes, nose, and mouth were severe slits that looked to have been cut open with an extremely sharp knife.

However, Lester was downright attractive compared to Hamish. Hamish was the epitome of science gone wrong. About four and half feet tall, with wildly disproportionate, beefy limbs, he had tiny insectile eyes that were especially out of place in his large, somewhat bulbous head. His scattered patches of coarse hair were interspersed between a disturbing assortment of tubes coming out of his scalp.

Some of the tubes had an obvious purpose. For instance, there was a pair of tubes originating from Hamish's temples that serviced his auditory implants--I assumed they were auditory as they were located where his ears should have been--by periodically