DON'T READ THIS u will get kissed on the nearest possible friday by ur crush. Tomorrow will be the best day ever and u will catch a rare pokemon. HOWEVER IF U DONT FORWARD THIS TO AT LEAST 5 PEOPLE u will get chased by 50 beedrills and sprayed by a skuntank!!!!11!
DON'T READ THIS u will get kissed on the nearest possible friday by ur crush. Tomorrow will be the best day ever and u will catch a rare pokemon. HOWEVER IF U DONT FORWARD THIS TO AT LEAST 5 PEOPLE u will get chased by 50 beedrills and sprayed by a skuntank!!!!11!
DON'T READ THIS u will get kissed on the nearest possible friday by ur crush. Tomorrow will be the best day ever and u will catch a rare pokemon. HOWEVER IF U DONT FORWARD THIS TO AT LEAST 5 PEOPLE u will get chased by 50 beedrills and sprayed by a skuntank!!!!11!
[Is this a garbled message due to the storms? Someone trying to get Albert to head out to the PokeMart in this terrible weather? Or code from Gordon? Who knows?]
[Slid under Albert's door are several pieces of paper--each has multiple drawings of whatever structure that page is dedicated to, with little notes neatly scratched out next to them. As simple-minded or mundane most of them are, they have a near-obsessive amount of detail put both into the art and accompanying writing. Each page is labeled, too. First in the common language this world pushed on everyone, then shakily in a set of runes, as if he'd had to concentrate very hard on his own home's writing system just for a few letters.
The top designs are the least impressive, with a clip-in attachment for a roller blade and by extension, an alternate prosthetic that is a roller blade in itself, and various saddle types for different pokemon. There's a Seadra-assisted irrigation system for potted plants, should he ever want to expand his current supply of berries, and a weird combination of a ship and a sled, complete with harnesses for the water-types leading the sailing. Several pages alone are dedicated to hot-air balloons and gliders.
(Oddly enough, it is between these that a paper dominated by paragraphs of facts, instead of being balanced by sketches, can be found. Each and every one concerns light bulbs in some way, should Albert bother investigating it, whether it be notes on what they look like or theories on how they function. It seems the viking has left his musings in by accident.)
All in all, everything is influenced by Johto in some way until the very end--catapults, swords, and something labeled 'YAKNOG SHIELD'. That one may or may not be a joke.
After a few days to fully calm down and talks with both Carmen and Cooper, Hiccup has decided that answering the question posed to him by Albert might not only work as a peace offering, but it could be interesting as well. So enjoy your new reading material, Mr. Rosenfield.]
[Later that day, the same sheaf of papers are rather inelegantly (but carefully) shoved back under Hiccup's own door, still in the same order as they were left, but curiously, with two new pieces of paper torn carefully from a Breeder's notebook inserted into the middle.
The first is an equally painstakingly drawn schematic, annotated and supplemented with a list of materials and quantities inscribed in one of the margins; the other is a scrap of paper with "runes" of a slightly different variety sketched quickly onto it, with two lines of symbols printed clearly beneath.
Should Hiccup take the time to decode those two lines of symbols with the help of that sketch, he may discover that they read:
DA VINCI KNEW TO WRITE HIS NOTES IN CODE, KID. THIS ONE IS CALLED PIGPEN. MIGHT AS WELL KEEP THINGS IN THE BARNYARD.
[Hiccup's next reply is actually an audio message--it's quicker, anyway.]
Did you want to go with?
[He's careful to make it clear that it's simply an invitation. No use guilting Albert into it with a hopeful tone if he didn't want to go--the point was to repair this damaged bridge, not wreck it further by annoying him.]
[If Hiccup is paying close attention, he may notice that while the usual sarcasm is definitely there, the biting impatient condescension oddly...isn't.]
[And in what is perhaps a stunning display of character development, it occurs to Albert a moment after that response that, ah yes, a Viking might not actually know what a "field trip" is, would he.
This is not necessarily something he would've considered before.
Which doesn't automatically mean he's going to explain it, but hey, he noticed. Progress.]
You planning to build one?
[Better to get back on the topic of the generator. That's safer.]
[It just wasn't something that happened in dragon-slaying class.]
That's what I was thinking, yeah. [Now that he knows how.] Haven't actually built anything in a while, and I probably can't accidentally start a fire with this.
I doubt it. If you want to accidentally start a fire, you want the periodic table science project, not the electricity one. Put the right two components together and it'll create a chemical reaction; pick the ones that don't like each other very much and they'll go kaboom.
Unless you break the bulb. You might throw some sparks off of that.
If the thing isn't turning, it shouldn't spark right? [He'd rather keep his streak of explosion-free months going.] I'll just stop it if it breaks for some reason.
[Hiccup sighs, but otherwise doesn't push the issue. It's not the time.]
Great. Shouldn't be a problem, then. [Though he does make a mental note to buy an extra bulb or two. You can never be too careful when your name is Hiccup Horrendous Haddock.] So, uhmn... Did you? Want to come with? I can ask someone else, if you don't.
[A very prudent solution, all around. Just because he's working on it doesn't mean it's not going to be a long and laborious process — or that he's going to ultimately be any less prickly along the way.]
...
[Coop, you better award him so much credit for this.]
Yeah, all right. Dummy can handle watching the Thing for a while while I'm gone.
Really? [He sounds surprised, but not unpleasantly so.
...Honestly, the fact that Albert agreed is enough to keep him from commenting on those names. Because what.] I mean, uhmn--we shouldn't be gone for too long, anyway.
What's got you interested in electricity all of a sudden, anyway? You thinking of wiring the Viking Village once you get back home?
[Frankly, Albert wouldn't blame him if he were; that seems like a completely reasonable thing to do, considering his personal conception of Viking villages.]
I would if I could... [It was all so advanced, though. Where the heck was he going to find this stuff on the Isle of Berk?] It's more because of that storm messing with the network, though. Someone started talking about power being knocked out and back-up generators.
Well, sure, this little science project will show you how it works. But it's not going to teach you why it works, any more than "hit these two rocks together" is going to teach you why it makes fire.
Then I guess I'll just have to learn that, too. [...He figures it's harmless enough to mention her.] Carmen started teaching me about it, anyway. Ben Franklin, with his kite and his key.
I better not catch you reproducing that one, by the way. Franklin may have invented the lightning rod with that stunt, and sure, it paved the way for a lot of other innovations to come, but that doesn't mean it wasn't a patently stupid thing to do.
[Figures Miss American History would gravitate toward Franklin, though. Hmph.]
The thing you're building is a contraption that a guy named Faraday came up with. And the light bulb you're using was pioneered by Edison. The point is, science doesn't happen in a vacuum. It's full of people looking at what everybody else is doing and saying, "I wonder what'll happen if I do this."
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