Of Lakes, Mysteries and the Odd Lunatic

Chapter X: In which Health and Safety concerns are raised once more

Chapter X

In which Health and Safety concerns are raised once more

There was another storm that night, and lightning pulsed between the roiling black clouds that enveloped Little Vale. Thunder rolled towards the hills and the Institute, the echoed back across the lake.

The Science Club at the Institute were meeting that night, and it was big. The Club consisted of a collection of old men, mostly retired (whether through age or mental state) scientists, who met once a week to discuss scientific principles, invent things, test theories, smoke pipes and read scientific journals several decades old, which gave outdated information based on most probably illegal experiments.

It was this night, their 267th weekly meeting, that they were going to conduct an experiment. The said experiment consisted of spinning wheels and cogs, acids, beakers, suction tubes and a lightning rod. They of course had not told Lawrence of their intentions as he most certainly have shut it down over his newly found Health and Safety concerns, and that would’ve just been no fun.

Several of the members helped carry equipment up to the small lookout platform on top of the roof, whilst others carried up folders of loose papers covered in complex looking calculations, biscuits, and an old camera mounted upon a tripod to prove the event if anything significant should come of it.

The main part of the experiment was soon set up in the attic space below the platform, and all that was left to do was raise the lightning mast. Several of the younger (but still aged) men lifted the mast together, then tied the attached ropes in a fan shape onto the railings that surrounded the platform in order to keep it in place.

“Engage the elektroliser!” Cried the Club’s leader, a man of seventy with a large white beard that went from ear to ear and looked unbelievably stiff as it stuck out a good ten inches from his chin. In response to the man’s command, one of the members pulled a large metal lever towards him, bringing a metal box with pins sticking out the front in contact with a slightly larger, hollow box. The first fit inside the other, and the man engaged a clamp to they would stay connected.

“Start the pump.” This spurred two of the younger men to begin pumping a seesaw style handle which was connected to a box with a pipe going in either side. The green, almost gel-like liquid inside the various connected glass tubes and chambers began to move through the looped system in little spurts as each pump was made.

Several of the scientists checked over the experiment to ensure that there was no leakage of any sort, and to ensure that everything was running smoothly. After several minutes, a second duo took over the first at the pump. This continued until one of the scientists who was watching a small dial mounted on the base of the lightning mast announced: “We’re getting a stronger charge now! Pump faster!”

Dutifully, the pumping team increased their efforts, their faces turning red and their breaths almost as powerful as the bellows. The current duo had to change over much quicker than before, giving the resting team a smaller time in which to rest.

A low hum began to emanate from the lightning mast, and form the connector box rose a thin, twisting tendril of smoke. One of the scientists noticed, and tossed a wet towel over it just in case. As the hum increased, a large, thin flywheel began to spin, fingers of electricity flickering over it like an old movie.

As more lightning struck the mast, the wheel spun faster, the smoke got thicker and the pumpers pumped faster. The dial pointer went epileptic, jiddering up and down, but slowly creeping round clockwise.

“Begin the electraction process!” the head scientist shouted over the ear-throbbing hum of the system before him.

One of the scientists was about to pull down a switch-lever on a metal panel near the glass tubing array, when the door to the attic room was slammed open and the stern and much displeased figure of Lawrence Alan Baker strode into the room.

“Michael! What is this?”

Michael quickly leaned across and pulled a lever. Immediately the hum lessened and then stopped completely, the connection box stopped smoking, and the flywheel clicked slowly to a halt. The pumpers, however, were still heaving away, and one of the scientists gave the pumper closest to him a sharp but subtle kick to make him stop.

“It’s an, umm, experiment, Lawrence.” Michael smiled weakly.

“What kind of experiment?”

“We were...trying to create explosive gel.”

“With lightning?”

“Yes. Perfectly safe, though! We made sure we took all the precautions we could--”

“I hardly think attracting millions of volts of electricity onto our roof is safe, Michael. Now, when you started the club, I explained very clearly to you that no experiments on this scale were to be done without my explicit permission. I’m very disappointed in you.”

“Sardines!” shouted a scientist. “They’re coming! Protect your children! Pass the salt!”

Lawrence sighed and went over to the man, taking his hand carefully and leading him back to the door. “Now, Charles, I think it’s time for your bed. You’ve had a busy night as it is.” Turning his head and he headed through the door, he spoke to the rest of the group. “I want this gone by the time I return.”