"I call it... the Forever Clock. All right?" We were in Dustin's room; he was showing us all of his inventions from camp, "Powered by wind. Very useful in the apocalypse,"
Dustin handed the 'forever clock' to Will. He fidgeted with it while Dustin showed off his next invention.
Dustin seemed really excited to be back from camp; but Micheal and Eleven seemed to be distracted by another thought.
I really hate their relationship, and I'm sure everyone else does as well.
"Then, I give you... the Slammer. Pretty neat, huh?" Dustin chuckled as he held up a vibrating hammer.
He put it in front of Eleven; Micheal put Eleven slightly behind him, and had an annoyed look on his face.
Dustin looked so happy; it made me want to cry. I cry a lot, but this was different: I didn't want to cry because of my own problems.
Micheal and Eleven were so uninterested, I guarantee they'll bail on us later; and if they leave, that means I would have to go as well.
"But this... this is my masterpiece," Dustin stated. He then removed... something? I don't know what it was, but showed it from his duffle bag, "I would like you to meet... Cerebro."
Cerebro was an interesting name for an object. How did that name come to be? I would have asked, but I knew nobody would've listened.
Micheal seemed confused, and so did the rest of us, "What exactly are we looking at here?"
"An unassembled one-of-a-kind battery-powered radio tower," Dustin responded to Micheal. Will spoke up, "So, it's a... a ham radio,"
Is this something they learned in AV club? Because, I've never heard of a 'ham radio' or 'cerebro'.
"The Cadillac of ham radios. This baby carries a crystal-clear connection over vast distances. I'm talking North Pole to South,"
But, based on context clues: I can infer that it is someway to connect to others, similar to a super-com, "I can talk to my girlfriend whenever and wherever I choose."
Those words, took me out of my deep thoughts. It probably took us all out of our thoughts, but I would think that some of us are more shallow than the others.
