Bits & Bobs

Walker (SFSD 6.0 Round 5)

(This story was written for the Sci Fi smackdown round 5. I chose pic- post#6, dude with hat and beard and teh following box was assigned to me:

Group #4 @ashiqtnt

Sub-Genre - DecoPunk

Setting - Hotel

Compulsory Item - Car Keys

Compulsory Quote - This is our extinction.

Song - Ramble on Rose (Grateful Dead) - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xEwtUf2sGX4 )

Walker

The scientist paced the length of the lab looking at his watch every now and then. He was the stereotypical cartoon scientist, thin body with a stooped posture topped by a bald head with white tufts of hair on either side, the big glasses on his wrinkly face completed the look.

“Slow down professor, he'll be here,” his much younger assistant tried to calm him.

“Oh, that's not what I am worried about. What if I am wrong? What if this man makes the journey and they find that it is useless? Or what if I am wrong and he gets killed on the way? Wouldn't he have died for nothing? Or if I'm right and he gets killed, won't we lose it? So many things could go wrong,” he put his hands up in desperation and continued the pacing.

The assistant stood up, “don't be so pessimistic. We tested it, it works. We just need confirmation and mass production. We don't have the facilities here.”

“Yes, yes, quite so. I know, I know. This is just a military establishment not a science institution, Sergeant Jones always reminds me of that. Of all the places, the cure had to be discovered here,” he shook his head.

“Think about it, doc. You're a genius, probably the saviour of humanity.”

“Maybe. Maybe not. I'm just paying my debt to society,” he mumbled.

“What?” the assistant did not hear him properly.

Just then, the man walked in without knocking.

“Professor Thompson?”

He turned around and stared at the man for a minute not really taking in his beard or long hair.

“Ah yes,” he said finally, “you're here. Now, I hope you know how serious this is.”

The man gave him an obvious look and shifted on his foot.

“Hi Chris, I'm professor Thompson's assistant,” the assistant extended his hand.

The man took his hand in a firm handshake, “do we know each other?”

“No, I've just heard of you from Profess-”

“In that case, you can call me Mr. Walker or Christopher,” the man interrupted politely smiling.

The assistant nodded sheepishly and stepped back to let the professor talk. The professor was in deep thought.

“Professor?” the assistant called out.

“Yes?” he looked at the two men one by one, “oh yes, yes. Sorry, I got a little carried away there.” He looked straight at Walker, “as I was saying, you must undertake this with utmost importance. This could very well be our salvation, Mr. Walker.”

Professor Thompson walked to a safe in the corner of the lab and turned the dial for the combination. He produced a vial of purple liquid about the size of a pen, a couple of inches thick and raised it so that Walker could see it. Walker nodded.