Apotheosis- A TGWDLM Fanfic

Chapter One: Whatever Happened to My Part?

Harriet Hidgens' life was always rather... interesting. She was even more so, but that was a story for another time. Her mother had died at childbirth, her father had died in a car crash driving her to the hospital, and the next of kin was her uncle, Professor Henry Hidgens. A biologist and doomsday enthusiast. In fact, Harriet has spent more time in her childhood with her Uncle Henry theorizing Doomsday than she had doing her schoolwork. Not that her grades suffered. In fact, the opposite occurred. She was as sharp as a tack, and six years ahead in her studies. Henry Hidgens has started her reading old texts as soon as her brain could process speaking. Her first word was quite literally "musical". She had lived and breathed it.

She'd never moved out. No, her uncle Henry insisted she wasn't to move. And she wasn't complaining. Her uncle was endearing in an odd way. She'd always been picked on because she had different needs than everyone else in her classes. She was a highly functioning autistic, and the odd year they'd decide to give her an EA. If not that, special work. In truth, she was rather capable of handling herself, and she didn't really need it. And it caused students to see her as stupid, dull, and weird, which she wasn't. As she said, she was highly functioning. She just saw the world a little differently. And she was absolutely awful with social cues, but then again, she knew many non autistic people who also were awful at social cues. She was oblivious at times, but really, that's all. Just a different world view.

Harriet and Henry had a full game plan come the apocalypse. Whilst he sheltered any other survivors, and figured out the anatomical structure of their invaders, she was going to build the device to save them all, in a little bunker under the stairs. She hadn't gotten a doctorate in biology, bio-engineering, organic chemistry, and biochemical engineering for nothing. She had eagerly awaited the coming apocalypse ever since she could consciously comprehend emotions. She was going to save the world. Then, maybe those kids at school who mocked her and teased her for being different would see her for what she truly was. It wasn't her fault that eye contact was hard for her, and she seemed to miss many cues, and at times she was unaware of how to continue a conversation. She had been the subject of many a joke. But not anymore. No. She'd be a hero. And once her device worked, she'd be recognized for the genius she was, as would her uncle.

And, when the time came, she set up her lab in that bunk under the stairs, and her uncle welcomed the survivors into his home. He sent her the data she was going to need to finalize the design portion of the device and she worked tirelessly on it day in and day out. She didn't know quite what sleep was anymore, and she couldn't for the life of her tell you what day of the week it was. She only saw her uncle once in what she might assume was a week. A short interaction, but one that stuck with her and gave her the strength to trudge on. She remembered it vividly. Her eidetic memory had more to do with that than the emotional significance, but for dramatic effect, let's say the emotional significance of the moment was enough to solidify it in her mind.

Henry Hidgens trudged down the stairs and popped into the bunker. Harriet looked up at her uncle and couldn't help the toothy grin that spread across her face as she gently set her blowtorch down. She'd been using heat to speed up a reaction that should produce just the compound she would need the machine to emit. But she could let it react at its natural pace for a moment. This was one of the rare opportunities she might have to see her Uncle, and she wasn't going to lose it. She popped her goggles off and ran to her uncle Henry, wrapping her arms around him excitedly.

"What's your progress on the device?" He asked her eagerly.

"Everything is going exactly to plan. I had to use a little extra Strontium Chlorate than I'd initially thought to accommodate with their biochemical fluctuations, but I packed a little extra anyways. You know me, always prepared." She smiled her gaze more to the floor than at his eyes. Eye contact, even with her uncle, made her rather uncomfortable.