the scientist

The scientist dropped the microscope and it broke. It broke and thus ended the experiment. The experiment, though, had gone on long enough. Long enough, however, the scientist mused, is a relative term with no place in science. In science everything should make sense. Make sense in what way, asked his assistant. His assistant had dutifully served him over the course of many experiments. Many experiments, conducted with great intensity over a span of years, had led to a point where his assistant could read his thoughts. His thoughts now led his assistant to check for a spare microscope in the closet. The closet indeed contained several microscopes. Several microscopes of lesser quality and therefore inappropriate for use in continuing the experiment. The experiment required equipment of the finest workmanship, allowing for the most precise calibration. Precise calibration thrilled the scientist and yet it was never enough. Never enough to replace the warm sun on his face, the sweetness of chocolate on his tongue, the scent of lavender carried on the breeze. The breeze now blowing in the laboratory was generated by artificial means, and thus provided him with no relief. No relief from the headaches and the emptiness inside. Emptiness inside which he tries to fill with continuous experiments, the outcomes of which never make the grade. The grade is and always will of course be too high. Too high for him to reach, purposefully, for he does not ever want to reach a pinnacle. A pinnacle, after all, only precedes a decline. A decline leads to an end. An end to experimentation–an end to the chance of discovery–and that he cannot yet face. Yet face it one day he must, for he is the scientist.

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  1. the scientist observes the machine | lost gander

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