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Entry tags:
- albert nye the science guy,
- and why is he so angry,
- back off he knows what he's doing,
- been eating the local mushrooms,
- best coworkers ever,
- can you taste the science,
- cave johnson eat your heart out,
- dammit gandhina,
- everything is stupid forever,
- here to kick ass and autopsy bodies,
- hit the deck it's agent rosenflower,
- i'm here the day is saved,
- i've got work to do dammit,
- kinda like a mythbusters episode,
- let's do science to it,
- making labcoats sexy since 1989,
- professional at work,
- secretly kind of a geek actually,
- seriously fucking cool shit,
- shenanigans are imminent,
- talk science to me baby,
- welcome to the justice farm of science,
- ▶ saffron city
007 | Saffron City | Audio;
[Filtered to Federal Agents - Dale Cooper, Gordon Cole, Spencer Reid, and Ziva David]
[It's been about two weeks since Albert signed the lease for his house in Saffron, and they've been two weeks comprised of a whirlwind of activities. Loath as he is to give any indication that he's actually putting down roots in this godforsaken nightmare people call Pokemon Land, the fact of the matter is that he's got work to do and it's a lot harder to accomplish the stuff he wants to get done when he's trying to do it out of a rented hotel room and subject to start traveling again at any minute. Picking out a place in Saffron, therefore, was the logical solution — not only would it put him close to both the labs he'd utilized before and set him in a nice big city as opposed to a tiny boondocks, it'd also get him out of Johto proper. Given his going track record with hassling the Pokemon Center nurses, getting out of Johto was probably a wise move all around.
But then, of course, moving into a new house came with all the obligatory tedium of being in a new house, like hassling with furniture and remembering where all the doors lead and having to constantly stop what he's doing in the middle of an activity and set up some necessity or other to continue to facilitate it. This wall needs coat hangers, the table down there isn't big enough, the piano bench is pretty rickety but a makeshift folding chair sits the pianist too low for optimal performance. Shelves need to be installed. Rooms need ten times more lighting than what they originally came with. How the hell did we forget soap dishes, someone go buy about twenty of them.
That's been life for the past two weeks, but slowly and surely things have fallen into place, and it's just plain nice to be able to finish something and leave it on a shelf to sit for twenty-four hours and not have to move everything around to find a place for it and know that it'll be right there whenever he chooses to come back to it. Like this, he can start laying out a routine. More work will get done.
Not to mention, now his lab comes with a deadbolt lock and a chain, and having a designated lab at all affords him the ability to leave his Pokemon to roam the whole rest of the grounds safely while still giving him all the peace and solace he wants. Which is always a bonus.
And the work's gotten done. Which is why today, Albert is setting up his Gear onto a tripod of sorts and adjusting the range so that it adequately displays a big steel table littered with neat arrangements of petri dishes, papers, tools, and scraps of cloth, plus a lumpy pile of canvas, some assorted cylinders, and a whole lot of duct and electrical tape.]
Okay, here's what we've got.
[Going down the line, he begins holding up some sealed test tubes, petri dishes, and small metal canisters as he narrates.]
Stun Spore. Naturally produced by twenty-seven varieties of...species around here, counting developments along a given species's evolutionary line. Comes in powder form. Testing indicated that if there is a variance between the composition of spores from species to species, it's a negligible one — we're dealing with effectively the same stuff no matter which of the twenty-seven you're tangling with. This sample comes from Type Five, the unevolved coconut crab variety. Production in this type seems to be directly linked to the parasitic mushrooms leeching off his back; ever since Dummy and I took them off, he hasn't been able to make a cloud like the one he hit Gandhina with a couple months back.
Pecha Berry. More helpfully dubbed the "Poison Cure" berry. Comes with a spicy taste, though I don't recommend you use this one to flavor your chili anytime soon. Side effects on humans involve temporary inflammation of the throat and a whole lot of swelling. Fortunately for anybody dumb enough to eat one, the effects are rapid in both directions — they come on fast and burn out fast, the experience lasting roughly ten minutes all told. In the animals, though, it's a universal cure-all of poison, regardless of type. Looks like whoever came up with this place didn't feel like getting very creative — poisoning is a binary state, either you are or you aren't. The spores are the yes, this stuff's the no.
[He moves on down, retrieving a petri dish.]
So. You run across a cloud of these spores, you're at risk two ways: you can breathe it, or you can come into skin contact with it. Either way you've got a problem.
Fortunately, it turns out that there are miraculously a few bright sparks of competence in this godforsaken wasteland, and the techs at the lab over here managed to help me isolate the active neutralizing agent from the berries. Following several all-nighters that would've been completely avoidable if any of this were taking place in a location even remotely resembling civilization, we got results.
[He moves on to the canisters, motioning in particular to the spray attachment.]
Number one: poison neutralizing spray. Sticks on the skin the same way the wildlife repellant does, though we managed to get it to last a little longer so reapplication isn't as frequent a necessity. You spray it on, you hit a spore cloud, the poison's neutralized before it meets skin. That takes care of the contact.
[And then, to the lump of canvas, which upon holding it up reveals what appears to be some kind of small, muzzle-shaped mask with a clear plate for vision and a hole near the mouth where a cylinder of some variety might attach.]
Number two: We've got a mask. The problem here is that these are going to have to be relatively custom, depending on your go-to critter of choice. There's also some kinks to work out in terms of access to the mouth and jaws; you got a dog wearing one of these, you can't have it spitting fire unless you want the interior of this thing to become an inferno real quick. That said, what it can do is get a dog through a spore cloud — or any other respiratory hazard that comes in powder form.
[He picks up one of the cylinders, fitting it into the hole in the front of the mask.]
Right now we're using a particulate filter — it'll work at keeping out dust, sand, particles, powders, anything big enough for the filter to catch. It's not going to help you against smoke, smog, chemical threats...anything that comes in a vapor, so don't think you're going to be able to strap on one of these and it'll save you from smoke inhalation in a burning building. We can do a chemical filter eventually, but cobbling one of those together is going to take a lot more time and manpower than one of these. For right now, this is what we've got.
[He turns slightly and whistles; a moment later, the sound of doggy nails clacking against a floor can be heard, and the happy whuffling of a pet that's excited to see its owner. When his Poochyena arrives, Albert proceeds to bend down out of camera range for a few minutes, then reemerges and plucks the camera off its tripod so he can give the video a clear view of Gandhina, now equipped with mask.]
So between this — [He holds up the spray canister.] — and this, what we're looking at right now in terms of preventative measures is this.
[Still holding the camera, he proceeds to thoroughly spray Gandhina (and mask) down with the contents of the canister, then gives it a few seconds to settle in before uncapping one of the test tubes of Stun Spore and shaking it liberally over her head and back.
And Gandhina, seemingly unfazed, simply wags her tail happily and tosses her head from side to side, apparently more affected by the odd feeling of the mask than the fact that she's just been dusted with poison spores that once knocked her cold.
The demonstration finished, Albert turns back to the camera.]
So that's where we're at.
[And with that, the recording ends.]
[/Filter]
~
[The voice on the audio here is rapid and succinct — Albert in his natural state.]
Three things. Number one, I thought the special-delivery egg thing was bad enough, but now it looks like we've graduated into the post-hatched ones, too. Let me make this clear: this is not a foster home. So if you're one of the dunderheads whose animal went missing lately, I'd suggest you make getting your butt down to the lost and found a priority right about now. There's a couple here that might be yours, and I'm not planning on playing babysitter forever.
Number two: For anybody looking to make a quick buck, you find me one of these things —
— and we'll talk bounty for it.
And number three: while I realize this is asking a lot of a world where the application of physics itself occasionally depends on whether or not you've got a piece of plastic clipped to your coat, is it even possible to get an actual turkey around here, or am I going to have to go make do with serving up some kind of fire chicken or psychic goose next week?
[It's been about two weeks since Albert signed the lease for his house in Saffron, and they've been two weeks comprised of a whirlwind of activities. Loath as he is to give any indication that he's actually putting down roots in this godforsaken nightmare people call Pokemon Land, the fact of the matter is that he's got work to do and it's a lot harder to accomplish the stuff he wants to get done when he's trying to do it out of a rented hotel room and subject to start traveling again at any minute. Picking out a place in Saffron, therefore, was the logical solution — not only would it put him close to both the labs he'd utilized before and set him in a nice big city as opposed to a tiny boondocks, it'd also get him out of Johto proper. Given his going track record with hassling the Pokemon Center nurses, getting out of Johto was probably a wise move all around.
But then, of course, moving into a new house came with all the obligatory tedium of being in a new house, like hassling with furniture and remembering where all the doors lead and having to constantly stop what he's doing in the middle of an activity and set up some necessity or other to continue to facilitate it. This wall needs coat hangers, the table down there isn't big enough, the piano bench is pretty rickety but a makeshift folding chair sits the pianist too low for optimal performance. Shelves need to be installed. Rooms need ten times more lighting than what they originally came with. How the hell did we forget soap dishes, someone go buy about twenty of them.
That's been life for the past two weeks, but slowly and surely things have fallen into place, and it's just plain nice to be able to finish something and leave it on a shelf to sit for twenty-four hours and not have to move everything around to find a place for it and know that it'll be right there whenever he chooses to come back to it. Like this, he can start laying out a routine. More work will get done.
Not to mention, now his lab comes with a deadbolt lock and a chain, and having a designated lab at all affords him the ability to leave his Pokemon to roam the whole rest of the grounds safely while still giving him all the peace and solace he wants. Which is always a bonus.
And the work's gotten done. Which is why today, Albert is setting up his Gear onto a tripod of sorts and adjusting the range so that it adequately displays a big steel table littered with neat arrangements of petri dishes, papers, tools, and scraps of cloth, plus a lumpy pile of canvas, some assorted cylinders, and a whole lot of duct and electrical tape.]
Okay, here's what we've got.
[Going down the line, he begins holding up some sealed test tubes, petri dishes, and small metal canisters as he narrates.]
Stun Spore. Naturally produced by twenty-seven varieties of...species around here, counting developments along a given species's evolutionary line. Comes in powder form. Testing indicated that if there is a variance between the composition of spores from species to species, it's a negligible one — we're dealing with effectively the same stuff no matter which of the twenty-seven you're tangling with. This sample comes from Type Five, the unevolved coconut crab variety. Production in this type seems to be directly linked to the parasitic mushrooms leeching off his back; ever since Dummy and I took them off, he hasn't been able to make a cloud like the one he hit Gandhina with a couple months back.
Pecha Berry. More helpfully dubbed the "Poison Cure" berry. Comes with a spicy taste, though I don't recommend you use this one to flavor your chili anytime soon. Side effects on humans involve temporary inflammation of the throat and a whole lot of swelling. Fortunately for anybody dumb enough to eat one, the effects are rapid in both directions — they come on fast and burn out fast, the experience lasting roughly ten minutes all told. In the animals, though, it's a universal cure-all of poison, regardless of type. Looks like whoever came up with this place didn't feel like getting very creative — poisoning is a binary state, either you are or you aren't. The spores are the yes, this stuff's the no.
[He moves on down, retrieving a petri dish.]
So. You run across a cloud of these spores, you're at risk two ways: you can breathe it, or you can come into skin contact with it. Either way you've got a problem.
Fortunately, it turns out that there are miraculously a few bright sparks of competence in this godforsaken wasteland, and the techs at the lab over here managed to help me isolate the active neutralizing agent from the berries. Following several all-nighters that would've been completely avoidable if any of this were taking place in a location even remotely resembling civilization, we got results.
[He moves on to the canisters, motioning in particular to the spray attachment.]
Number one: poison neutralizing spray. Sticks on the skin the same way the wildlife repellant does, though we managed to get it to last a little longer so reapplication isn't as frequent a necessity. You spray it on, you hit a spore cloud, the poison's neutralized before it meets skin. That takes care of the contact.
[And then, to the lump of canvas, which upon holding it up reveals what appears to be some kind of small, muzzle-shaped mask with a clear plate for vision and a hole near the mouth where a cylinder of some variety might attach.]
Number two: We've got a mask. The problem here is that these are going to have to be relatively custom, depending on your go-to critter of choice. There's also some kinks to work out in terms of access to the mouth and jaws; you got a dog wearing one of these, you can't have it spitting fire unless you want the interior of this thing to become an inferno real quick. That said, what it can do is get a dog through a spore cloud — or any other respiratory hazard that comes in powder form.
[He picks up one of the cylinders, fitting it into the hole in the front of the mask.]
Right now we're using a particulate filter — it'll work at keeping out dust, sand, particles, powders, anything big enough for the filter to catch. It's not going to help you against smoke, smog, chemical threats...anything that comes in a vapor, so don't think you're going to be able to strap on one of these and it'll save you from smoke inhalation in a burning building. We can do a chemical filter eventually, but cobbling one of those together is going to take a lot more time and manpower than one of these. For right now, this is what we've got.
[He turns slightly and whistles; a moment later, the sound of doggy nails clacking against a floor can be heard, and the happy whuffling of a pet that's excited to see its owner. When his Poochyena arrives, Albert proceeds to bend down out of camera range for a few minutes, then reemerges and plucks the camera off its tripod so he can give the video a clear view of Gandhina, now equipped with mask.]
So between this — [He holds up the spray canister.] — and this, what we're looking at right now in terms of preventative measures is this.
[Still holding the camera, he proceeds to thoroughly spray Gandhina (and mask) down with the contents of the canister, then gives it a few seconds to settle in before uncapping one of the test tubes of Stun Spore and shaking it liberally over her head and back.
And Gandhina, seemingly unfazed, simply wags her tail happily and tosses her head from side to side, apparently more affected by the odd feeling of the mask than the fact that she's just been dusted with poison spores that once knocked her cold.
The demonstration finished, Albert turns back to the camera.]
So that's where we're at.
[And with that, the recording ends.]
[/Filter]
[The voice on the audio here is rapid and succinct — Albert in his natural state.]
Three things. Number one, I thought the special-delivery egg thing was bad enough, but now it looks like we've graduated into the post-hatched ones, too. Let me make this clear: this is not a foster home. So if you're one of the dunderheads whose animal went missing lately, I'd suggest you make getting your butt down to the lost and found a priority right about now. There's a couple here that might be yours, and I'm not planning on playing babysitter forever.
Number two: For anybody looking to make a quick buck, you find me one of these things —
— and we'll talk bounty for it.
And number three: while I realize this is asking a lot of a world where the application of physics itself occasionally depends on whether or not you've got a piece of plastic clipped to your coat, is it even possible to get an actual turkey around here, or am I going to have to go make do with serving up some kind of fire chicken or psychic goose next week?
[audio]
[Because duh, they sell actual food.
Still, that question wasn't as biting as it could have been. Given his own recent acquirement, Hiccup has a bad feeling about this...]
Can you check your new pokemon with the pokedex? There should be an 'Original Trainer' line in its information...
[audio]
[Oh, huh, this is new. Albert hasn't really had to contend with the Original Trainer function yet, but now that the topic has come up, he'll just truck on over to one of his new acquisitions and...]
"Kiki". No surname's showing up. That's going to make an APB difficult.
[audio]
[Well, at least the accusation was bland.]
...Great. She's not hoping you'll be its babysitter--she left a few days ago.
[audio]
Left. What, she just packed her bags and hit the road? How'd she do it?
[audio]
I doubt she put that much thought into it, really. I know I didn't, when I disappeared back in August.
[audio]
You're pretty broken up about it, huh?
[audio]
[audio]
[audio]
[audio]
[audio]
[audio]
[Hey, subject changes are fine with him.]
Cianwood? That's what, the westernmost city in your side of the nation?
[audio]