The Mad Scientists of New Jersey (Volume 1)

by Chris Sorensen

  “I see you’ve met Reggie,” a voice behind Eddie said. It was the same voice he’d heard before.

  Eddie whirled around, holding the squirming metal frog at arm’s length, its clockwork innards spinning and clicking.

  Standing at a workbench piled high with spools of wire, salvaged radio parts and gutted laptop computers was a lanky man in a wrinkled lab coat. His hair was an uncombed bird’s nest, his eyes wild and bright. To Eddie’s mind, the man looked quite mad.

  “Come here, Reggie!” the man called. The metal frog wriggled out of Eddie’s hands, hit the floor with a clank and hopped over to the workbench. It vaulted up into the air and landed on a broken toaster. “Funny little fellow. I’ve packed him full of memory but I still can’t get him to say ribbit. Can I, Reggie?”

  On cue, the frog said, “Rej-jip!”

  “Who... where...?” Eddie was at a loss for words. He twirled about, taking in the room around him. It seemed to be half living quarters, half laboratory. No longer was the old house... well, old. It was antiquey, no question about it, but it was no longer crumbling down around him. The ceiling was back in place and electric lights blazed in wall sconces around the room.

  Piles of machine parts littered every corner —disassembled vacuum cleaners, DVD players, microwave ovens, lawnmowers, TVs. It was like someone emptied an entire junk shop into the place.

  “Look at you, you’re all wet. Stay clear of those cables on the ground. Don’t want you to electrocute yourself before we get started,” said the man, as he walked over to a chalkboard and started wiping it clean of the mathematical formulae covering every inch of its surface. “We have a lot of ground to cover.”

  “What... who...?” Eddie continued to stammer. The man turned back to him, seemingly surprised at his confusion.

  “Am I moving too fast?” asked the man. “I always do that. Bad habit of mine. Introductions first, eh? Best way to start things off. All right... you. You are Edward J. Edison but you go by Eddie. You live on Mulberry Street with your mother and your loyal dog Cooper. You attend Lakeview Elementary School and you are deathly afraid of clowns. Your turn.”

  Eddie’s confusion quickly morphed into anger. “What do you mean, my turn? I have no idea who you are!” He was shaking.

  The man smiled and shook his head. “I’m sorry. Of course, I’ve spent a little too much time on my own these past few years, and I think my social skills must be a bit rusty.”

  The man leapt forward with his hand out. Eddie recoiled in fear.

  “Names. Yes, names. Yours is Eddie, as we’ve established. Mine is... that’s a bit tricky isn’t it? Well, I suppose for the sake of this conversation, why don’t you call me... Mesmer.”

  Eddie looked at the man’s outstretched hand. “Mesmer? That’s your name?”

  “Not in the slightest.” The man took Eddie’s hand in his and shook it firmly. “It’s so very, very good to meet you. And a bit odd too, I must confess. But still, a pleasure. A profound pleasure.”

  It was all too much for Eddie. His head was spinning. He stumbled over to a chair and plopped down. As soon as he was sitting, Reggie took a tremendous leap from the workbench and landed in his lap, letting loose a croaking purr.

  “Are you dizzy?” Mesmer asked. “My mechanical tutor may have been a bit harsh on you. I tried to pack in as much info as possible, but sometimes it’s like trying to shove a pizza through a keyhole. You just sit tight! I can fix you right up.”

  “Mechanical what?” But the man was already rushing around the room, opening cabinets, over-turning crates, poking through drawers. Finally, he came up with what looked like a silver spoon. “Ah ha!” he cried.

  He raced over to Eddie. “Say ahhh!” Instinctively, Eddie said ahhh and Mesmer slipped the ‘spoon’ into his mouth and pressed a button on its handle.

  Instantly, it felt like a swarm of electric spiders poured into his mouth, shocking his tongue, his throat, his nose. He coughed violently, spitting the spoon across the room. The electric spiders vanished as soon as they appeared.

  “Feel better?” Mesmer asked, and Eddie hated to admit that, yes, he did feel less woozy, but he sure could have done without being shocked.

  “Should have warned you about the sensation. Quite shocking. Did you feel spiders or lizards? To some people they feel like lizards...”

  “Spiders,” Eddie whispered.

  “Yes, they’re the worst. Ugh! Anywhoo...”

  Eddie stood up, causing Reggie to leap from his lap and skitter back to Mesmer’s side. “Stop! I’m not going to listen to one more word until you answer some questions.”

  “Fine, fine. Go ahead.”

  “Who are you? Not just your name. I want to know who you are, what a mechanical tutor is and where the heck I am!”

  Mesmer turned to him, hair flapping. Eddie got the impression that he cut it himself. And his shoes... mismatched with neon laces. “Last things first. Where do you think you are?”

  “Well, I was in the abandoned house on the island.”

  Mesmer clapped his hands. “And that’s exactly where you are, my boy.”

  Eddie shook his head. “But... but all of this...” he said, waving around at the makeshift laboratory.

  “We’re still in that abandoned house, Eddie. Both of us. We’re just a little out of step with it,” Mesmer said with an impish grin.

  He pulled a keychain from his pocket and raised it over his head. He pressed a button, and Eddie distinctly heard the sound of a car’s locking system beep.

  Suddenly, Eddie found himself staring straight at Roxie, the flashlight blinding him. Roxie screamed, Eddie jumped back...

  Beep! He was back in the lab with Mesmer.

  “I don’t understand,” Eddie said.

  “We are currently residing in the tiny moments in between seconds. You know how movies work? Not video but old school movies on film?”

  Mesmer dashed to an old laundry cart and started rifling through a collection of old cameras and flashbulbs and pulled out a dusty movie reel. He motioned Eddie over.

  “People used movie cameras to record the world frame by frame,” said Mesmer, excited by his explanation. “Those frames, that’s where the old house and your friends and the rest of the world live. But you see here?”

  Mesmer feverishly unwound the strip of film from the reel. Eddie took the film in hand and held it up to the light. Each frame held an image just slightly different than the one before. And in between each frame was a miniscule dark space.

  “This is where we are. In the space between frames. Hiding in plain view, just a stutter step out of synch with the rest of reality. Pretty cool, huh?”

  Eddie stared at Mesmer, trying to let him know with his steely gaze that although yes, he did think it was pretty cool, he still had some unanswered questions.

  “Ah, the mechanical tutor. Question two. Right,” said Mesmer. He dove into yet another junk-filled crate and came up with a duplicate of the metal nut Eddie had pulled from the lake.”

  “That’s...” Eddie said but was too shocked to go on.

  “It sure is. This is a mechanical tutor, although that’s an awfully unwieldy name, is it not? I’ve considered calling it a brain-nut or a think-pod, but nothing really sticks. Don’t worry, I’ll come up with something soon enough.”

  “What does it do?”

  Mesmer smiled proudly. “Why, it teaches, of course. Teaches like nobody’s business. I programmed it to pump ten years’ worth of science and math, biology and zoology, astronomy and astrophysics into your noggin in a single zap.”

  Eddie’s thoughts were awhirl. “Why would you do that? Why would you stick all that stuff inside my head?”

  Mesmer tilted his head and considered Eddie a moment. “That’s where things get a bit tricky. Do you like s’mores?”

  Caught off guard, Eddie simply
said, “Sure.”

  “Excellent!” Mesmer dashed over to an old cupboard and began pulling out ingredients. Marshmallows, chocolate bars, graham crackers. “I do love a good s’more. I find they calm me down. With all the sugar it should do quite the opposite, but it doesn’t. Ah, well. It’s a mystery I don’t care solve.”

  Mesmer pulled a Bunsen burner from a pile of trash, its hose snaking behind, and lit it. He skewered a marshmallow with a bent TV antenna and set about toasting it.

  “You were saying?” Eddie prompted.

  “Yes, of course. Why did I shove a library’s worth of data into your old noodle? An excellent question that deserves an excellent answer.”

  Eddie stalked over to the man, switched off the Bunsen burner and fixed his eyes on Mesmer’s. “Are you going to tell me or not?”

  Mesmer turned instantly serious. “I did it because it’s your birthright, my boy.”

  “My what?”

  “Your birthright. By your age, other kids like you would have had years and years of intensive study in all of the sciences. It is something that he denied you, something I believe it is my duty to give you back. So I built my tutor, stuffed it full of every bit of information I could and set it loose to find you. Or for you to find it. In any case...”

  “You said ‘he’ denied me. He who?”

  Mesmer swallowed. “Sly.”

  “Sly?”

  “Vernon Sly. The maddest of them all.”

  With every answer, Eddie understood less and less. He gritted his teeth and said, “The maddest of who? Who are you talking about?”

  Mesmer smiled wanly. He handed Eddie the s’more. “Why, your people, Eddie. The Mad Scientists of New Jersey.”

  Eddie took a bite of the s’more. Crack! It was like biting down on a rock.

  “Gah! What are you trying to do, break my teeth?”

  Mesmer examined the bag marshmallows. “Hmm, these seem to have expired a few years ago.” He shrugged and tossed the bag into a wooden box marked Hazardous Materials.

  Eddie plopped into a hideous orange armchair. Reggie hopped over to him, leapt once more into his lap and rej-jipped quietly. Eddie barely noticed.

  “The Mad Scientists?” Eddie asked.

  “Of New Jersey,” Mesmer said pointedly. “Illinois boasted a chapter back in the day. So did Colorado. There was even a group who called themselves Mad Scientists down in Florida, but they turned out to be a bunch of quacks. Claimed to have invented a fountain of youth. Bah! Nothing but a cheap trick, all smoke and mirrors. But the community here in New Jersey, on Lake Mohawk, they were the first. And the best and the brightest.”

  “But... they were mad?” Eddie asked.

  “That’s just what they called themselves. But in truth they were only mad in the sense that they were madly creative, madly inventive, madly and passionately devoted to the art of making science.”

  “And I’m one of them?” Eddie’s heart was pounding like a jackhammer.

  “Yes. Well... no. I mean, you would have been, could have been, should have been. If Sly hadn’t come along and ruined everything, you would be one among many young geniuses. Instead here you sit. Like the last Dodo.”

  What the heck is a dodo, Eddie thought, and a split second later the image of a short, squat bird popped into his head along with a swirl of information that scrolled through his mind so fast it almost gave him whiplash. A genius? Him? Forgetaboutit.

  “Are you calling me a fat bird?”

  Mesmer chuckled. “Of course not. You know all about the dodo, don’t you? I’m sure I included it in your studies. Famed as much for its extinction as its ridiculous name. You, like that final dodo, are the last of your kind.”

  Eddie sat up. Reggie croaked his annoyance. “But what about you? You must be a mad scientist too. I’ve never met anyone more mad sciency than you.”

  “I suppose I do look quite the part,” said Mesmer, glancing down at his attire. “I’m sorry if I must remain a bit vague on that point. But I assure you, you are the last.”

  “If I’m the last, then who was the first?” asked Eddie. “Who were these Mad Scientists?”

  Mesmer grinned. “That I can tell you. Lights!” He clapped his hands. Immediately, the lights dimmed. The hum of a dozen movie projectors, video projectors and slide projectors turning on filled the room. “I give you, the lost history of the Mad Scientists of New Jersey!”

  Images and filmed footage came to life, projected on every wall. Although what he was seeing was old and in black and white, Eddie recognized the lake and some of the houses next to the shore. There was Echo Island surrounded by old boats, the stately house still under construction. And there...

  “Wait a minute,” said Eddie, pointing at one rotating series of images. “There’s no water in the lake.”

  He was right. The slideshow he was referring to showed Lake Mohawk without the lake. No water. None. Instead, it showed a deep valley with a small town set in the middle of it, populated by brick buildings. This one looked like a factory, that one looked like a library. There were streets and shops and houses. All set into what was now the depths of Lake Mohawk.

  “When did...?” he started to ask, but Mesmer jumped in.

  “Shh! Here’s the voiceover. I’m very proud of it,” he whispered.

  As the films, video and images continued to dance across the walls and ceiling, Mesmer’s voice rang out from a score of speakers. “The year was 1920. The place: the scientific community of Voltaic Valley, home to over one hundred and fifty of the brightest minds this world has ever known.”

  Mesmer leaned in and whispered, “We should have popcorn for this, shouldn’t we?” Eddie shook his head. Mesmer’s popcorn would probably kill him. The presentation continued.

  “They all gathered here, men, women and their families, to kindle the flames of scientific advancement, to pursue the secrets of the universe and to combine one and a half cups flour and three eggs to... zzz... zzz...”

  Mesmer leapt up, grabbed a wrench and pounded on a glowing stereo unit. “Bit of a glitch!” Pound! “I’ll clear it right up!” Pound!

  The voiceover resumed. “Their goal was a simple one: to use their gifts for the betterment of mankind.”

  A white-haired man appeared on a number of screens dressed in old-timey clothes. Eddie recognized him at once. “That’s Thomas Edison. We studied him in Mr. Hubbard’s class. He invented the light bulb.”

  Mesmer snorted. “Among scads of other things not in your schoolbooks, but...shhh!”

  “However, one extremely gifted member of the community found serving his fellow man to be a poor use of his skills.” Images of the man popped up all around Eddie. In every photo, the man’s face was either blurred or had been scratched out.

  “Vernon Sly,” the audio continued, “was a master mathematician and a wizard of physics. It was his contention that the people of Voltaic Valley, rather than sharing their discoveries and inventions with the rest of mankind, should toss the vegetables with butter and place them in the center of the pan... zzz... zzz...”

  “Oh, come on!” Mesmer shouted as he banged away with his wrench. Reggie hopped off Eddie’s lap and hid underneath a pile of boxes.

  “Onions robot monkey apple zzzapple... zzzzzz!” squealed the stereo system. With one final bash, Mesmer reduced the unit to splinters. “Toothbrush... sparkplug... zzz... zzz... zzz...”

  All went quiet. Panting, Mesmer clapped. The lights came back up.

  “So, what happened?” asked Eddie. “What did that guy Sly do?”

  Mesmer walked over to a window and stared out wistfully. “He drowned them. He drowned them all.”

  “He what?”

  Mesmer turned back to Eddie. “Out of jealousy and spite, Vernon Sly blew up the dam holding back the Wallkill River and flooded Voltaic Valley, killing every last person in
the town.”

  Eddie thought about this. Then that meant... “Even the kids?”

  “Even himself,” said Mesmer, nodding.

  “Himself? That doesn’t make sense. Why would he kill himself if he wanted to be such a big shot?”

  “Why indeed,” said Mesmer. He knelt and coaxed Reggie out from under the pile of boxes. Once he had him, he stroked the metal critter’s back. Surely a robot frog wouldn’t react to that, Eddie thought, but soon enough Reggie was warbling a froggy, robotic tune.

  Eddie got up and started pacing the room. “But if Sly flooded the town and every last one of my mad scientist ancestors, then I shouldn’t be here.”

  Mesmer slipped Reggie into his pocket. “Not quite. On the fateful day that Vernon Sly laid waste to Voltaic Valley, one member of the community, one single man, was absent. And you and he just so happen to share the same last name.”

  “You mean Thomas...?”

  “That’s right.”

  “But I’m not...”

  “Yes, you are.”

  “Are you going to let me finish or not?” Eddie grumbled. “My dad said just because we had the same last name as a famous person, that didn’t mean we were related. He said he had plenty of friends named Washington and Lincoln and they weren’t related. To the presidents, I mean.”

  Mesmer walked over to Eddie and placed his hand on his shoulder. “But you are related. You are the great, great, great grandson of Thomas Alva Edison.”

  Eddie was stunned. If what Mesmer was saying was true, then his father had lied to him. But why?

  A buzzer went off somewhere in the room. Just a short burst, a little buzz, but it set Mesmer scurrying around the room to locate its source. “I have so many bells, buzzers and alarms hooked up to so many things I can’t quite keep all of them straight. Perhaps I have something in one of the ovens.” He stepped over to a tower of microwave ovens and opened each door in succession. “Nope, nope and... nope.”

  Eddie wanted to go home. Maybe coming here was a bad idea. He would have handled it better if Dad were with him. Or even Roxie and Pudge. They must be wondering where he was. Would they leave without him? If they did, what would he do? Swim back home?