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Professor Schmaltzenberger's Equation - Chapter 1
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StarMountainKid
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22 June 2012
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Professor Schmaltzenberger’s Equation – Chapter 1
Professor Schmaltzenberger was wandering around in his study wondering where he had left his pencil. He had just thought of a new equation, and he wanted to write it down before he forgot it.
Professor Schmaltzenberger was a theoretical physicist, a brilliant mathematician and a genius. Like all genius’s, he kept forgetting things, like where he lived and what his name was. He can, of course, be forgiven for this. He was a genius after all, and this is what genius's do. This kind of behavior is acceptable for him, but not for ordinary men. Ordinary men hardly ever forget where they live or what their name is. But, of course, Professor Schmaltzenberger was different.
After about an hour the good Professor was still looking, but by now he has forgotten what he had been looking for. He spent his time peering at various objects lying around his study. Almost everything he looked at he was seeing for the first time. This was because he had previously forgotten all about them. He often spent hours doing this, looking at new things, forgetting about the new things he had just looked at and forgetting he was suppose to be looking for one particular thing. He most likely will spend some time in this fruitless occupation, so there's little point in continuing to watch him, or to write about it.
About an hour later, the good Professor had found his pencil. However, not knowing what he was originally looking for, he put the pencil back where he found it and continued looking.
That night was a rainy night, and the wind was blowing fiercely outside his study windows. Sharp streaks of brilliant lightening lit the room eerily from time to time. This only confused the Professor, for with each flash he thought he could see out of the corner of his eye a mysterious figure standing in the intervening shadows. A little frightened at this strange apparition, the Professor decided to sit down at his desk and think about it. But, since glimpsing apparitions out of the corners of his eyes wasn't what the Professor was about, he soon forgot about it. As he gazed around his study aimlessly, he suddenly remembered he was supposed to be looking for something. He knew it was important to find it, although he couldn't quite remember what it was. He stood up for a while, thinking.
Now, thinking was Professor Schmaltzenberger’s specialty. Thinking was what the Professor mostly did. He was very good at thinking, and this thinking had brought him many awards and honors. These thoughts he would write down on pieces of paper, and his assistant would gather them up and send them off to various scientific journals. This is the reason the Professor had gathered so many awards and honors.
One interesting thing is, the Professor hardly ever remembered what he had written down on these little scraps of paper. This was a good thing, as in this way the Professor was never bothered by all the success he had gained from his thoughtful efforts. He didn't even realize he was the most famous and respected scientist of his generation. He just stayed in his study and was free to think new thoughts.
His loyal assistant, who I shall call Otto, protected his eminent employer by keeping him unaware of his success. Otto was good at keeping secrets, and the biggest secret he had ever kept was not telling the Professor how famous he was, and not telling anyone where the Professor lived, or even anything about him.
So, no one knew where the Professor Schmaltzenberger was, but, of course, everyone wanted to know. The press and other scientists were constantly searching for this mysterious Professor Schmaltzenberger. They hired private detectives, they hired psychics, they hired gossip columnists, they hired conspiracy theorists, they hired helicopters, they hired mountain climbers, just in case the Professor was clever enough to live on top of some obscure mountain. They hired almost anyone who thought they had a clue or even an inkling of where this famous man resided, but to no avail.
Well, by this time the Professor had gotten tired of peering at objects lying around his study he had never seen before, and wondering how they had gotten there, and finally remembered his lost pencil. After thirty minutes or so, he found it. Luckily for the Professor, he had kept in his mind the equation he wanted to write down through all this searching. He quickly jotted it down on a scrap of paper, laid it on his desk, and was satisfied. However, this satisfaction didn't last very long. As the Professor gazed at what he had written, a astonished look came over his face. It was one thing to work out equations, but another to realize the potential or consequences of said equations. This time, which was very rare for the Professor, he did realize the consequence of this particular scribble.
He sat back in his old chair and ran a hand over his face. Of all the ideas and thoughts he had ever had, only this one made any kind of impression on his mind. He realized here he had something special. Something unique, The equation he had written down stared back at him in an unnerving way. The Professor realized he had discovered the Equation of Time.
Now, to most of us the Equation of Time wouldn’t mean very much, but not to the Professor. He immediately realized its importance. “This could change everything,” he said to himself. “What in the world shall I do with it?”
It just so happened that Otto was the apparition who was standing in the shadows that the Professor thought he saw in the flashes of lightening. Otto also heard what the Professor had mumbled to himself. “This could change everything,” Otto kept repeating to himself, and wondered what It meant.
Otto was a clever fellow. After all, he had kept the Professor’s whereabouts secret for all these years. This had been very profitable for Otto. You see, the Professor had received various grants, prizes and money, which had been the results of the various equations he had scribbled down. The Professor never knew about these because Otto, as I said before, was very good at keeping secrets.
Otto silently moved to the door of the Professor’s study, quietly opened it a little and closed it noisily. “Well Professor, I think it’s time you hit the sack. It’s getting late, you know,” he said.
The Professor looked up absently. “Is it?” he asked to no one in particular. “I should be going to bed then, I suppose.” Looking around the room he saw Otto. “By the way,” the Professor continued, “who are you?”
“I’m Otto, Professor. You remember, your loyal servant.”
“Ah yes, of course. Otto,” the Professor said a little hesitantly, looking at the man. “Well, I’m going to bed now, Otto. See you in the morning.” The Professor walked toward the study door, then hesitated. He walked back to his desk and picked up the scrap of paper. “Perhaps I should put this somewhere safe,” he said, and quickly put it in his pocket.
“The bedroom is this way, Professor,” Otto suggested, pointing to the open door. The Professor walked out of the study and was guided to his bedroom. Safely inside his bedroom, Otto closed the bedroom door and walked thoughtfully into another room.
Pulling out the piece of paper from his pocket and looking at it the Professor said to himself, “This is important, I must remember to keep it safe.” The Professor looked about the room, wondering where a save place would be. He took a book off a shelf in a bookcase and placed it among the pages. “There,” he said, “now I can go to sleep and not worry.”
The Professor undressed, got into bed and pulled the covers up to his neck. “Tomorrow I’m going to have to do something special,” he said, “something I haven’t done in many years. I’m going to have to go out of the house.”
Professor Schmaltzenberger fell into an uncertain sleep, dreaming of floating scraps of paper appearing in an unknown landscape.
Professor Schmaltzenberger was wandering around in his study wondering where he had left his pencil. He had just thought of a new equation, and he wanted to write it down before he forgot it.
Professor Schmaltzenberger was a theoretical physicist, a brilliant mathematician and a genius. Like all genius’s, he kept forgetting things, like where he lived and what his name was. He can, of course, be forgiven for this. He was a genius after all, and this is what genius's do. This kind of behavior is acceptable for him, but not for ordinary men. Ordinary men hardly ever forget where they live or what their name is. But, of course, Professor Schmaltzenberger was different.
After about an hour the good Professor was still looking, but by now he has forgotten what he had been looking for. He spent his time peering at various objects lying around his study. Almost everything he looked at he was seeing for the first time. This was because he had previously forgotten all about them. He often spent hours doing this, looking at new things, forgetting about the new things he had just looked at and forgetting he was suppose to be looking for one particular thing. He most likely will spend some time in this fruitless occupation, so there's little point in continuing to watch him, or to write about it.
About an hour later, the good Professor had found his pencil. However, not knowing what he was originally looking for, he put the pencil back where he found it and continued looking.
That night was a rainy night, and the wind was blowing fiercely outside his study windows. Sharp streaks of brilliant lightening lit the room eerily from time to time. This only confused the Professor, for with each flash he thought he could see out of the corner of his eye a mysterious figure standing in the intervening shadows. A little frightened at this strange apparition, the Professor decided to sit down at his desk and think about it. But, since glimpsing apparitions out of the corners of his eyes wasn't what the Professor was about, he soon forgot about it. As he gazed around his study aimlessly, he suddenly remembered he was supposed to be looking for something. He knew it was important to find it, although he couldn't quite remember what it was. He stood up for a while, thinking.
Now, thinking was Professor Schmaltzenberger’s specialty. Thinking was what the Professor mostly did. He was very good at thinking, and this thinking had brought him many awards and honors. These thoughts he would write down on pieces of paper, and his assistant would gather them up and send them off to various scientific journals. This is the reason the Professor had gathered so many awards and honors.
One interesting thing is, the Professor hardly ever remembered what he had written down on these little scraps of paper. This was a good thing, as in this way the Professor was never bothered by all the success he had gained from his thoughtful efforts. He didn't even realize he was the most famous and respected scientist of his generation. He just stayed in his study and was free to think new thoughts.
His loyal assistant, who I shall call Otto, protected his eminent employer by keeping him unaware of his success. Otto was good at keeping secrets, and the biggest secret he had ever kept was not telling the Professor how famous he was, and not telling anyone where the Professor lived, or even anything about him.
So, no one knew where the Professor Schmaltzenberger was, but, of course, everyone wanted to know. The press and other scientists were constantly searching for this mysterious Professor Schmaltzenberger. They hired private detectives, they hired psychics, they hired gossip columnists, they hired conspiracy theorists, they hired helicopters, they hired mountain climbers, just in case the Professor was clever enough to live on top of some obscure mountain. They hired almost anyone who thought they had a clue or even an inkling of where this famous man resided, but to no avail.
Well, by this time the Professor had gotten tired of peering at objects lying around his study he had never seen before, and wondering how they had gotten there, and finally remembered his lost pencil. After thirty minutes or so, he found it. Luckily for the Professor, he had kept in his mind the equation he wanted to write down through all this searching. He quickly jotted it down on a scrap of paper, laid it on his desk, and was satisfied. However, this satisfaction didn't last very long. As the Professor gazed at what he had written, a astonished look came over his face. It was one thing to work out equations, but another to realize the potential or consequences of said equations. This time, which was very rare for the Professor, he did realize the consequence of this particular scribble.
He sat back in his old chair and ran a hand over his face. Of all the ideas and thoughts he had ever had, only this one made any kind of impression on his mind. He realized here he had something special. Something unique, The equation he had written down stared back at him in an unnerving way. The Professor realized he had discovered the Equation of Time.
Now, to most of us the Equation of Time wouldn’t mean very much, but not to the Professor. He immediately realized its importance. “This could change everything,” he said to himself. “What in the world shall I do with it?”
It just so happened that Otto was the apparition who was standing in the shadows that the Professor thought he saw in the flashes of lightening. Otto also heard what the Professor had mumbled to himself. “This could change everything,” Otto kept repeating to himself, and wondered what It meant.
Otto was a clever fellow. After all, he had kept the Professor’s whereabouts secret for all these years. This had been very profitable for Otto. You see, the Professor had received various grants, prizes and money, which had been the results of the various equations he had scribbled down. The Professor never knew about these because Otto, as I said before, was very good at keeping secrets.
Otto silently moved to the door of the Professor’s study, quietly opened it a little and closed it noisily. “Well Professor, I think it’s time you hit the sack. It’s getting late, you know,” he said.
The Professor looked up absently. “Is it?” he asked to no one in particular. “I should be going to bed then, I suppose.” Looking around the room he saw Otto. “By the way,” the Professor continued, “who are you?”
“I’m Otto, Professor. You remember, your loyal servant.”
“Ah yes, of course. Otto,” the Professor said a little hesitantly, looking at the man. “Well, I’m going to bed now, Otto. See you in the morning.” The Professor walked toward the study door, then hesitated. He walked back to his desk and picked up the scrap of paper. “Perhaps I should put this somewhere safe,” he said, and quickly put it in his pocket.
“The bedroom is this way, Professor,” Otto suggested, pointing to the open door. The Professor walked out of the study and was guided to his bedroom. Safely inside his bedroom, Otto closed the bedroom door and walked thoughtfully into another room.
Pulling out the piece of paper from his pocket and looking at it the Professor said to himself, “This is important, I must remember to keep it safe.” The Professor looked about the room, wondering where a save place would be. He took a book off a shelf in a bookcase and placed it among the pages. “There,” he said, “now I can go to sleep and not worry.”
The Professor undressed, got into bed and pulled the covers up to his neck. “Tomorrow I’m going to have to do something special,” he said, “something I haven’t done in many years. I’m going to have to go out of the house.”
Professor Schmaltzenberger fell into an uncertain sleep, dreaming of floating scraps of paper appearing in an unknown landscape.
Gotta be my favorite line in this piece - I could write an entire blog entry on it. I might..I won't, probably hangin' up my blog cap for a bit actually. I mean if I have a poem or something about dreams maybe (not)