Prompt: The professor always made me feel awkward with his crazy inventions, and this time is no different.
The wind is brisk and there is a light drizzle as I walk toward the old apartment building. I search for his window on the sixth floor, almost hoping it’s dark and he’s not home. A dim, yellow light shines through a pulled shade. The last time I was here was three years ago when I was a freshman. He was selling some of his old equipment. I’m always looking for bargains.
I shiver but not from the cold. My cell phone vibrates in my pocket and I decide to answer it. I swipe the screen quickly, glad to hear my roommate’s familiar bantering. For a moment I forget where I’m at, and then I interrupt him.
“Hey, I may be home late. Right now I’m outside Professor Madison’s apartment building, ” I say.
“Mad Madison? Thought he was dead. He’s still teaching?”
“He’s retired. Looking for students to help with his research and inventions. Pay is good, so decided to check it out.”
“Wexler…,” my roommate says with hesitation.
“Yeh?”
“You really need the money that bad?”
“Yeh…and doing scientific research will look good on my resume,” I tell him.
My roommate laughs–as if what I said was outrageous–and then the call ends.
I now notice the window’s shade is slowly being pulled up. The professor waves at me. The light surrounding him casts an eerie glow. The decision has been made for me; it would be rude to turn away, besides the drizzle has turned into a soaking rain. I step into a deep puddle, swear aloud, and then run toward the entrance.
The inner foyer is old and stuffy. I push the button by his name and wait for the buzzer. The locked door clicks. I yank it open, and walk through to the elevator.
The 6th floor hallway is dark. I slowly walk down to his apartment; my eyes notice the carpet stains and frays. The only sound is my uneven breathing. He is the only tenant on the building’s top floor, just like three years ago.
I ring the doorbell and wait. The professor comes to the door and leads me inside. No words are exchanged. He nods and grabs my hand and pulls me along. His hands are cool compared to my clammy ones. His tall frame bends slightly from hunched shoulders as he shuffles toward the living room which he made into his lab.
I pass though a clutter of gadgets covered in dusty spider webs and insect carcasses. His collection has grown in three years. There are old ham radios, weather radios, a Commodore 64 computer, assorted telephones with rotary dials. There are also old-fashioned transformers, resistors, electromagnetic switches, and Tesla coils. Some of the older artifacts he has assembled into robots, their mechanical arms dangling off the edge of the shelf. It seems like their electronic eyes are mocking me, as if sayings, “What are you doing here?”
He notices my stares and speaks for the first time.
“I know what you are thinking. All this stuff…I like to think of it as an old Radio Shack on steroids.”
Professor Madison laughs hysterically at what he perceives as a joke. His eyes bulge behind the thick lens of his glasses as he looks at my bewildered face.
“You don’t get it? Radio Shack? I guess that’s way before your time,” he says and laughs again.
A lightning bolt flashes across the sky, illuminating the room. On a worktable is a strange metal helmet with electrical wires protruding like wild hair. A soldering iron and safety mask sits waiting.
“Ah, the reason you are here. My latest invention–The Brain Machine.”
Madison smooths out his disheveled gray hair and puts the Brain Machine on his head. His laughter vibrates throughout the room, leaving me chilled to the bone.
I back up toward the apartment’s door.
“I forgot that I n-need to get b-back home. My r-roommate is expecting me,” I stutter.
I make a mad dash out of his apartment building. My body trembles along with the growing rumble of thunder.
I drive home with one nagging thought echoing in my mind — I hate admitting that my roommate was right.
Elaine Fisher © 2023
Fisher Photos and Prose 