"Ms. Dudley," I said, humbly waiting for her attention while she pointlessly attended to herself in the mirror decorated with oddities, she already looked as creepy as could be. "The Hefner's are waiting for you in the kitchen, they're here to test your assortment of gourmet potions." She widened her eyes, she seemed nervous, and that was a little odd considering how she spent up approximately 7 ½ matcha bombs to fuel 4 consecutive all-nighters finetuning the last pair of poisons for this review. With so many hours used, one would assume a witch would be fairly relaxed at this point. I do suppose Dudley was always a perfectionist.
"Give me a minute Miran, I need to piece together this last bond for my surprise potion finale... please tell me you've got my dehydrator on hand." Her nose and cheeks were so rosy – a side effect from overdosing on matcha bombs— and my sharp ears could hear her heart beating vigorously, I wondered if she was overdoing herself. " M-" she was about to ask twice, but that's not my policy. No doubt that's why she chose me as her undead assistant. I handed her the finely crafted dehydrator, it was an 1890s edition, officially vintage. they didn't make them like that anymore. The newest versions had faulty organic computing chips that didn't have electromagnetic cosmic radiation protection to prevent bit flips and the subsequent encoding errors. This was mainly due to the Quantium shortage of 1910 which was caused by the main manufacturing company, ForNIX, experiencing a nuclear blowout that resulted in the death of both the teams of creators that developed chip flex and the never seen before collection of vampire assemblers who could create the dehydrators at speeds unattainable by any craft-able technology. Since then, common dehydrators were honest rubbish, understandably, Ms. Dudley was very paranoid about her vintage dehydrator. "with haste Ms. Dudley, you know the Hefner's don't enjoy tardiness" I said.. and they didn't. it was my place to remind her respectfully. "shh, I only need a zeptosecond, Miran, do you doubt my dehydrator?" she smirked. There she goes again with her dehydrator snobbery.. it did take only a zeptosecond and I felt bad for my debate, but the potion was ready and we were off to the chemist section of the designer's kitchen in her live-in brewer research facility before I had time to dwell.
YOU ARE READING
The heart of light
Science FictionGood evening, my name is Miran. This is the story of a young ingenious witch who merged the great powers of magic and science to change the nature of life on our planet. I, her vampire assistant, will be giving an exact recall of the events that le...
