When I was younger and in the long duration of my school days I frequently would find myself in some classroom situation where following my contribution of a small faculty of observation I would hear in hushed tones or open gasps of astonishment the application towards myself the title of 'genius'. Some other students would shout or proclaim it loudly, as if suddenly awoken from stuporous slumber or otherwise scripting themselves in some unfunny pantomime where their part constituted witness heralding eurekas.
I first assumed I was the butt of a joke, as gathered midgets might amuse themselves calling the shortest amongst them 'a giant'. Only after poking nimble prods of mock sincere modesty I was loath to discover in the flat candor of their expression they were serious. Worse was to come when those in some frame of academic need on topics outside the context of my (or their) talents would come to me in earnest hope that I might lend benefit of some 'ability' to remedy numerous failing attempts o'er hurdles loftier beyond either's scope. Most seemed to understand explanations that although I may appear to be good at mumbletypeg I was all thumbs when it came to darning the wool they sought to unravel from the sheep. Egomaniacal idiots avowed I was holding out, refusing to help them by way of feigning ignorance in an effort to supress their ambition.
Among the ambitious lurk some various personages of wishful Damocles failing to notice the sword swinging threadborne just above the summit of the goals they desire to accomplish. It is a waste of time to do something imagining postscripts labeling your efforts as that of a trailblazer, for then you will modify your stance unwittingly attempting to fit yourself to the mold of desirable foresight rather than seeking solution to what lays in the immediate path of your vocational duty.
At the moment my view is that of an immortal person safe behind the clear barrier of our specimen suppression safety cache as just a few yards away five thousand degrees of scorch plasma envelopes the hideous writhing mass of raging monstrosity I had been toiling over for the last nineteen hours. My hopes had been to extract an undiscovered enzyme that theory instructed me lay in one of the beast's two hundred and thirty two hard-to-find pineal glands. In wonder I count to myself the full scorch plasma duration of fourteen seconds and then find myself gaping in astonishment that the creature is still viable. The clear barrier protecting me vibrates with the shock wave of it's bellowing, for now it is even angrier at being burned than it was at being slowly dissected.
Just as I am measuring how soon it may formulate an idea that it could at least try to get at me behind this transparent safety barrier, our new electrical gridwork suppression protocol kicks in, and the beast is stunned to quick silent apoplexy as nearly 100,000 watts surge through it's mass. It is quickly reduced to a smoldering black lump the size of a pot roast there on the floor next to the exam table. In a few seconds the lab's environmental control will neutralize any residual atmospheric problems and the safety cache door will swing open and I will get a good whiff of what gasses smolder from the pot roast sized lump.
Just as I am measuring how soon it may formulate an idea that it could at least try to get at me behind this transparent safety barrier, our new electrical gridwork suppression protocol kicks in, and the beast is stunned to quick silent apoplexy as nearly 100,000 watts surge through it's mass. It is quickly reduced to a smoldering black lump the size of a pot roast there on the floor next to the exam table. In a few seconds the lab's environmental control will neutralize any residual atmospheric problems and the safety cache door will swing open and I will get a good whiff of what gasses smolder from the pot roast sized lump.
That Igor is a genius to have thought up the mechanism of the electrical gridwork shock-em-to-death thing. I would much rather congratulate him for his keen foresight and acute intuition following the first successful application of it's intended use than to see myself grateful to him for having killed the creature with his axe when he came back to the lab to find that beast hammering away at the transparent door attempting to get me.
Or maybe, since I see that Igor is again nowhere to be found, I could just drop this scorched blob in the trash and mention nothing. Doesn't take a genius to see that would be the smartest thing to do lest risk of Igor getting a swelled head.
