𝒆𝒍𝒆𝒄𝒕𝒓𝒊𝒄 𝒕𝒐𝒖𝒄𝒉

𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒍𝒐𝒈𝒖𝒆

✩ ☽ ✩

Despite the rainy weather, the streets of London were teeming with people. Most of the voices belonged to tourists who came to admire the local sights.

On the face of it, however, an ordinary day was unlike any other. On this particular day, people were waving British flags, wearing nonchalant hats and making a joyful noise. The coronation of the King, for which the world was anxiously awaiting, was the order of the day.

In addition to the locals and tourists, a brown-haired woman was making her way through one of the crowded streets. It was obvious at first glance that she did not share the general joy. Her eyes were fixed on her feet, and she was shoving the people standing in her way without a word.

Her day was far from good. It was even below average! Naively, she thought she couldn't get any worse; but she was wrong. As she entered the emptier side alley, water hit her head with a loud splash. Her eyes widened in surprise. After recovering slightly, she looked up. An elderly woman was emptying the buckets after mopping.

The young girl cursed angrily as another batch of water spilled on her body, this time with more soap. It was no longer without a bad word. And not just one.

The woman in the window didn't take much notice of her, however, and disappeared into her apartment. The wet brunette glanced at the papers clutched spasmodically to her chest. She hissed. They were all wet. And all because of one stupid bimbo!

She stomped away as fast as she could to avoid strangers' stares. When she could, she took off running. She paid no attention to the puddles on the sidewalks. She paid no attention to the splashing mud. She paid no attention to the passing cars.

Fortunately, her apartment wasn't too far from the accident scene. In the back pocket of her pants, she fished out a bunch of keys until she finally found the right one. The elevator was out of service, so she had to take the stairs to the fifth floor. Unbelievable! Not that she was in particularly bad shape, she'd just had enough in just one morning.

She decided to go and ask the chief executive of the Society of Scientists for a job on this solemn day. A scientific one, of course. That's why she was offended when he didn't offer her more than a cleaning job. Terrible!

It wasn't the first time Betty had gotten into the Science Museum unnoticed. It was commonplace for her to show up to address someone on the board. But their response was always the same. „You're too young. When you grow up, you'll find that there is no such thing as science for you." And it wasn't without an inaudible mutter into her beard: „A woman and a scientist! Who ever saw that?" At such moments the woman saw red.

With a loud slam she slammed the front door. Tiredly, she slid down them to the floor, letting all the papers fall to the ground. She closed her eyes. Through the open windows the general revelry sounded to her. With a hasty step, she made her way into the living room, making sure to board up the windows to limit the noise.

She looked back at the scattered papers. With a sigh, she gathered everything up and placed it on the table. She sat down on a chair and returned the ones that had fallen out of the folders to their place. With a furrowed brow, she read over some of her notes.

She thought for a moment and then went into the next room. Her bedroom was modest; the bedding was flowered, and a framed photograph stood on the bedside table with a lamp. On the wall behind the bed was a window overlooking the street, otherwise the walls were bare. On the chest of drawers next to the wardrobe was a rose in a tall vase.

Betty didn't care about any of this. She rummaged in the bottom drawer and pulled out a pocket watch. At least the thing looked like one. She walked back to the table with it too, slipped its chain around her neck so the face rested on her still-wet chest, grasping it in her left hand and flipping through the papers with her right. She took a deep breath and then exhaled again. And like this several times.

The girl was determined to prove to others what she could do. Carefully, as if she were holding the most delicate porcelain, she turned them over and examined the back. Here were several cogs, and each one stood for something, each one was absolutely indispensable.

She turned the largest one three times to the left, the smallest five times to the right, and the middle one eight times to the right and then twice to the left. She wasn't afraid. The machine was only an unfinished prototype and therefore nothing could happen. In short, it didn't work.

Or so the brown-haired girl thought...

She laughed at her experiments when the world started spinning around her. She looked around in confusion. Streams of colour engulfed her, and then... darkness.