You're A Scientist! (Make Your Own Mistakes: Volume 1)

by Phil Edwards

  “Fascinating!” Hammond shouts. “Simply intriguing. This will make a marvelous replacement for some of our largest creatures. How did you find this incredible piece?”

  You tell him that the scientist with the napkin bandana helped you, and then you explain all the hard work you’ve done counting CDUs. He grins.

  “I got my start just like you: as a young scientist who got earth science confused with paleontology.”

  This is your moment to shine.

  “I want to paint dinosaur eggs like Easter eggs.”

  “Then you’re in the right place.”

  He throws the femur at the lawyer and grabs you by the shoulders, his beard smelling like dinosaur egg omelettes.

  “Do you want a peek at the future of the past? Do you want to go inside our Cretaceous Amusement Facility?

  “More than anything, Mr. Goldblum.”

  “Mr. Hammond. Common mistake. I’ll allow you to choose where you go. Come with me and see what happens to your femur. Or, if you like, go see exactly what we have planned for this incredible facility.”

  You can’t believe you’ve graduated from dirt counter to this, but that doesn’t make it any easier to decide.

  To see what the femur is being used for, tap here.

  To discover the future of the facility, tap here.

  You can’t believe what you see.

  A team of scientists are huddled over a hole, pouring powder from a giant barrel. Of course, being an experienced beaker cleaner, you instantly smell the truth.

  It’s baking soda—you’ve put more of that sweet candy in your nose than anyone you know. As it drops into the hole, it burbles forth, burble-like. Why are they doing it?

  One of them sees you and points.

  “Stop! Right now! This is top secret. Didn’t you see the warning?”

  They look very upset, but they can’t stop pouring the barrel into the giant hole, and that gives you time to make a decision. The choice is simple: do you investigate what’s going on? Or do you try to escape?

  To see what the baking soda is being used for, tap here.

  To try to escape the room, tap here.

  The twins shake their heads in time.

  “Are you sure you want the coil?”

  “I really have no choice,” you utter, your heart racing. “It’s not as if I can turn back in time and do something else.”

  “Not with our world’s physics,” they say and laugh. Something emerges from the floor.

  It’s a larger coil than you’ve ever seen before, and you’ve spent quite a bit of time browsing the aisles of Coil Depot. This tops them all. The base alone is as big as a car, and it rises as high as a two story building. You miss the hacky sacking now more than ever.

  “What does this thing do?”

  “Power,” the twins say in unison. “We wish you’d chosen the box. If only you’d chosen the box.”

  “Remember when we hacked that sack? Can’t we do that again?”

  Devin shakes his head as he flips a giant switch and the coil snaps to life. Electric jags spark around the top of the coil, dancing about the hard, dark metal. Emma stands, her face cloaked in shadow.

  “You know about Nikola Tesla, I assume.”

  “Yes,” you say. “Nicholas Tassle. I know all about him. But what are you going to do with the coil?”

  “Before we get to that, I just need to correct you. It’s actually Nikola Tesla.”

  “Yeah,” you say and shake your head. “Nicholas Tassle. The guy who invented the Tassle coil.”

  “OK, it’s the Tesla coil, not the Tassle coil. The thing is named for him. Nikola Tesla.”

  “I get it. Nicholas Tassle invented the Tassle coil. And now you’re going to use it to kill me.”

  She’s getting angrier, and her brother joins in.

  “Listen, beaker cleaner, you’re right. We are going to see if this coil can electrocute a human. We’re weaponizing Tesla’s greatest invention. So get it right and we’ll get going. Nikola Tesla. Nikola is his name.”

  “That’s what I said: Nicholas.”

  Enraged, Devin hits a switch and the coil powers up.

  “Nikola!” he shouts and slams down his hand again, and without realizing it, he hits the switch.

  The Tassle coil is at full power and electricity sparks around the room, which can’t be good for your hair. Part of you can’t help but be awed, but Devin and Emma aren’t as cool-headed as you. They’re jabbering about “electrocution” and “frequencies” and “the imminent threat to their lives.”

  You aren’t the type to panic, but something has to be done. Do you stop the Tassle coil? Or do you let it run and continue the experiment?

  To stop the coil, tap here.

  To let the experiment continue, tap here.

  You have a feeling the coil is a bad idea, so you choose the box. It turns out the box is a bad idea too.

  “What do you know about quantum mechanics?” Emma asks as she taps away at her computer.

  “Well,” you say, “I know it has nothing to do with Pep Boys!”

  Neither of them laugh.

  “Did you get it?” you ask. “You see, Pep Boys is a popular chain that provides automobile repair services. I was mixing up the two mechanics.”

  Devin looks up at you.

  “Funny. I get the joke. Let me ask you this: do you have a will?”

  “You really thought it was funny?”

  “Buried or cremated?”

  Emma leaves the room, so you’re left with Devin.

  “Devin, remember when we played hacky sack? That was fun, right? Maybe we should just play frolf.”

  “I don’t think so. We’ve got some science to do. You’ve heard of Erwin Schrödinger?”

  “He’s the guy with the umlaut in his name?”

  “Yes, and he’s also the inventor of an incredible paradox that we’re finally going to test.”

  Emma returns behind the wheel of a forklift. On the front, there’s a giant box. Cats follow after her.

  “You see,” Emma says, gracefully maneuvering her forklift, “we used to use cats to test it. But now we have a person who can tell us what’s going on.”

  You nod as if you understand what she’s talking about, but you don’t. You’ve heard about Schrödinger’s Cat before, but you thought it was something dirty. Devin doesn’t let your confused expression slow him down.

  “It’s a thought experiment, until now. If we observe you directly, we’ll screw it up, so instead you’re going to help us out.”

  Suddenly, you feel a forklift between your legs, and it hoists you high into the air. Emma laughs.

  “The problem is that humans are less excited to go into the box!”

  She drops you inside and the lid closes. There’s a light on inside, and you can see a hammer hooked up to a flask labeled POISON. Devin’s voice is audible through a speaker.

  “So, we just need you to observe whether you’re alive, dead, or both. Once our detector shows an atom decaying, it will smash that poison. If you end up being alive and dead, please let us know. Maybe we’ll even learn that there are branching realities, though that seems highly unlikely. The idea of reality having coexisting possible outcomes is kind of absurd.”

  You try to rip the hammer away, but even your strong beaker-cleaning arms can’t pry it loose. There’s nothing you can do but wait for the experiment to continue. And it looks like the hammer is starting to shake…

  To be dead, tap here.

  To be alive, tap here.

  To be both, tap here.

  Mars: Is It Really Red? seems like it will be an easy read, especially since only one of the words in the title has two syllables. You’re certain you’ll cruise through the first few pages, take a few naps, forget about the book, somehow get back Beatram, and retire in the Florida Keys to run your own beaker cleaning boutique.

  But then you turn to page two and a mysterious note falls out. The handwriting is precise.

&nbs
p; Mars isn’t red. It’s more maroon.

  But that’s not all.

  Come to the roof of the lab. Only curious minds would come this far. Join me to find the truth.

  Also, if you come to the roof around 2:15, wait around a few minutes, because that’s usually when I leave to make a quick stop at Dunkin’ Donuts. And I take Columbus Day off, per lab policy, as well as other major holidays.

  The note drops from your hands to the ground. You’d always wondered about the lab’s policy on now-controversial holidays like Columbus Day. This day just got a little more interesting.

  You’re faced with only one option (since you have no plans to read the rest of the book): you have to go to the roof and learn the truth about Mars. Who knows— maybe Beatram is up there as well, baking in the sun and waiting for a nice beaker to clean.

  It doesn’t take long to find a way up: you follow the ROOF LADDER signs strewn around the laboratory. You know one thing for sure: it’s a lot easier than reading a book.

  You lift a latch and find yourself on the roof. The laboratory stretches as far as the eye can see, and you take a moment to appreciate the epic view of suburban chain stores, empty fields, and abandoned industrial buildings. But soon you see a hand waving in the wind.

  It’s Dr. Masterson! He sits on a folding chair in front of a cardboard box. His hands and face are covered in brown liquid.

  “You made it!” he shouts.

  “What happened to your face?”

  “Chocolate melts easily in the sun.” You scan his lab coat and notice that his pockets are overflowing with food. “But that is neither here nor there. You found my note.”

  “Yes, but why didn’t you just tell me in person? I wasn’t doing anything.”

  “Because...” He speaks in a whisper, his breath strong with cocoa. “No one can know what I know.”

  “Which is?”

  “They faked the landing.”

  “The moon landing?”

  “The Mars landing, you fool. That’s why I put it in the book about Mars. So are you ready to go on an adventure with me?”

  “Is it some weird chocolate thing?”

  “No. I’m going to show you the truth. If you can handle it.”

  “And what if I say no?”

  He grins at you, an almond spilling from his upper lip.

  “We’re going to uncover a conspiracy that involves the entire world. And I’ll give you back your sponge if you help.”

  “You have Beatram?”

  He pats his lab coat pocket.

  “You wouldn’t believe where I’ve put this sponge.”

  You’re so upset you can’t see straight, though it might also be because of the bright sunlight and your generally poor vision. You want to follow Masterson on his wild chase for the truth, but taking on the world seems even more difficult than reading a book.

  Maybe there’s another option. A more violent one that he’d never suspect. You ball up your fists and kiss your knuckles. Masterson looks up.

  “What are you planning, beaker cleaner?”

  To fight Masterson for Beatram, tap here.

  To follow Masterson in his search for the truth, tap here.

  You’ve always thought that black holes were dangerous, but this book seems to provide some much needed balance. You turn to the first page:

  Who are we to judge?

  For years, we’ve heard that black holes suck in all light and don’t let anything out. Well, is that really so bad?

  It’s a great book so far, but it feels like a good time for a nap. You doze off and find yourself having a pleasant dream about beaker cleaning with Beatram in Cabo San Lucas.

  When you wake up, you’re reinvigorated and continue reading. What you find is shocking:

  That’s why I’ve installed a black hole in the Fake Science Laboratory, right in room 202! I hope nothing goes wrong!

  You slam the book shut.

  It sounds dangerous to investigate further, but you can already tell you must. The question is how to get there, after a quick nap.

  To reach room 202 using the hallway, tap here.

  To reach room 202 using the air ducts, tap here.

  A gorilla! What an amazing journey this will be, and absolutely nothing will go wrong!

  The stern woman escorts you through the lab’s corridors to the animal area. It smells like your future in here. You have a feeling that Beatram could do some good cleaning work.

  You expect to hear a lot of banging on bars and other animalistic noises, but instead you hear the click-clack of computer keys. The scientist speaks barely above a whisper.

  “I’m taking you to see Cacao. She can communicate through sign language and blogging, but her skills are very primitive, since she hasn’t mastered social media.”

  Cacao has destroyed three laptops while at the lab: two from blogging rage and one from spilling espresso on the trackpad.

  You can hardly believe it.

  “Surely she understands Twitter.”

  “No, not even that. Her mind can’t comprehend the way the internet has changed.”

  It’s a little sad to watch Cacao blogging as if it were 2004, no matter how interesting her take on current events is. The scientist continues.

  “We need you to further develop her communication skills. She must catch up to the modern era. And we think you’re just the right person to do it.”

  “But why me?”

  “We think you have an excellent grasp of technology and human-animal relationships.”

  “Really?”

  “Also, you were standing around doing nothing.”

  You can’t believe you’ve been selected to enhance communication between humans and gorillas. Who knows what’s going on in that magnificent reptile’s mind? The scientist taps you on the shoulder.

  “Just so you know, you were speaking aloud just now. And a gorilla is a mammal, not a reptile.”

  “Amazing! I had no idea an amphibian could be a mammal,” you shout. “Now let’s get to work!”

  To teach Cacao how to use Facebook, tap here.

  To teach Cacao how to use YouTube, tap here.

  She takes you to see Algeria, the lab mouse. As soon as you’re in the lab, you realize you’ve stumbled on something special.

  The two of you look inside a maze and see a completely still mouse, except for the bottle he lifts to his lips.

  “That’s him,” the scientist says. “Algeria. The name is meant to evoke that genius mouse Algernon, without infringing any copyrights. Anyway, we gave him a serum that increased his intelligence a hundred-fold. On day one, he finished the hardest maze that our carpenter could build. Granted, we have a very dumb carpenter, but it was still an incredible breakthrough.”

  “Then what is he doing now? And what does he have on his head?”

  You lean in and take a closer look. Algeria seems deeply depressed and you notice that he’s wearing a tiny beret. The bottle raised to his lips is actually a very small wine bottle. The scientist explains.

  “By the third day, he became so intelligent that he started to grow disaffected. By day four, he became an existentialist, and we think that’s still where he’s at. At least, that’s what he tells me.”

  “Tells you? He can talk?”

  “Oh yes. It might seem far-fetched and so absurd that it’s just plain lazy, but he constructed vocal implants himself, though we don’t know why he has a French accent. Let me get you the documents. You need to observe his behavior and see what happens. We’re going to eliminate him soon enough.”

  “Can’t he hear you?”

  “I think he’s too drunk.”

  She leaves the room and you instantly feel a tug on the arm of your lab coat. It’s Algeria, pulling on your sleeve with a tiny fishing line he’s constructed.

  “Mon ami,” he says, “we must overthrow this sadistic experimental machine.”

  “I thought you were depressed.”

  “No, I am a revolutionary. Will
you help me or not?”

  To help Algeria escape, tap here.

  To refuse to help Algeria in his quest, tap here.

  Genetic engineering for animals—it sounds like a slam dunk from the beginning, so you willingly sign up. The scientist—still oddly stern—escorts you to a laboratory filled with exciting things, but she takes you straight to a couple of poodles.

  “We’re going to have you observe these poodles.”

  “What? I thought I was going to be making tigers with laser eyes. And that reminds me, just where are all the tigers in this lab? You haven’t shown me one.”

  “Actually,” she explains, “breeding is one of the oldest forms of genetic engineering. Did you expect some fantastical scenario in which you were able to instantly crossbreed species? Now get to work.”

  “You want me to watch these things even though they clearly aren’t tigers?”

  She hands you a clipboard and leaves. Beatram has never seemed farther away. He’d have had the perfect comeback, but instead you wait in silence, watching some dogs that look absolutely nothing like tigers.

  But you don’t stay bored for long. It’s a stocked laboratory, and you have a lot of exploring to do, until you get bored with that as well.

  You wander around the laboratory, marveling at the details. Stainless steel counters gleam with a shine that only a beaker cleaner could appreciate, and the entire room smells as wonderful as a fresh vat of formaldehyde. As the dogs get farther away, you find a sense of clarity—you’re going to become the foremost genetic engineer of your time, once you learn what genes are.

  It doesn’t take long for you to have a breakthrough in your studies, since, like most great scientists, you quickly find a giant glowing machine:

  DNA RECOMBINATOR: REGULAR EDITION.

  You keep going.

  DNA RECOMBINATOR: DELUXE EDITION.