PROSE The lab is bathed in a dim blue light. The creaking of machinery is accompanied by the squeaking of chalk against a worn blackboard. A stranger would describe the lab as eerie. For her, it is a magical playground where she can test and develop her wildest theories. The clock hands click into position at 8 PM, and the last of the sunlight fades away. She does not notice the lab assistants packing their bags and turning off the machines, or the gentle bell ringing above the door as her assistants slowly file out. Her focus remains on the chalkboard in front of her, as she frantically records diagrams and notes that are speeding through her mind. This is it. This is it. Everything is finally coming together. She is fueled by the realization that a breakthrough is just around the corner. Her hands move at what seems to be the speed of light and her eyes flash with excitement. The chalk begins to become dust under the pressure of her hands, yet she continues writing. And then she is done. To those who are not familiar with the complex concepts The Mad Scientist explores, her work will appear as a jumble of numbers and letters surrounding a simple cube. But to her, that cube is a representation of the three visible dimensions of space: length, width, and depth. And the equations she has scrawled around the cube are her secret to accessing the fourth dimension: time. "It will never work." The Mad Scientist slams the door to the lab. Her rage intensifies every time she replays the words of the snotty council members in her head.
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They understand nothing of my work, but they want to deny me the chance to explore? She slumps into her seat and fixes her eyes upon the blackboard, filled with what are apparently useless theories that can never be proved in the real world. She picks up a green towel and goes to erase the evidence of her failures. Her hand hovers above the board. She scans the equations one last time, and as a new thought enters her mind, she tosses the towel back and picks up the chalk once again. Nobody can stop her. The final wire falls into place. She steps back and marvels at the giant metal contraption she has constructed in the corner of her lab. Her once black hair is now streaked with gray, and her wrinkles run deep on her face. Her hands shake ever so slightly as she picks up remote and turns the machine on. A whirring sound fills the silent laboratory. In her excitement to work on this project, The Mad Scientist has abandoned her other theories, and her lab assistants, feeling neglected and unproductive, have all moved on to fulfill their own destinies. So she has toiled alone for twelve years, growing increasingly eager to accomplish her goal as the machine becomes more advanced. Now, the fruit of her labor stands before her, glowing with a blinding light and emitting a forceful sound that fills her with an overwhelming feeling of accomplishment. It is time to complete this project. Her movements are no longer hasty and frantic, as they were so many years ago. She takes a slow and purposeful walk around her lab, touching every dusty machine,
DIMENSION
picking up every piece of trash, and thumbing through every worn notebook. She comes to stand in front of her machine again, staring into the light and trying to imagine every possible situation that awaits her on the other side of the door. She discards her lab coat at the work table. The woman places one foot in the door. She hesitates to continue. With this one step, she will move away from everything she knows. She will break the limits of mortal existence, and discover the workings of a dimension only regarded as conceptual and abstract. She will enter the dimension of time, and find the world that none have even thought of venturing into. And all she must do is place her other foot in. She inhales. A sense of confidence, of courage, and of finality washes over her. She takes the final step.
She takes the ďŹ nal step.
