To Do Science Madly
"Hmm, is that so?" Musorov inquired, his voice thoughtful after several minutes of attentive listening to Dorian's story. His expression was that of a man absorbing a deliciously curious anecdote, demeanor impeccably refined as he raised his teacup, little finger elegantly upturned. "I must admit, your tale is indeed strange."
He sipped the tea, adopting a pleased smile at its taste. After serving their tea, Nancy departed the room with a nod, leaving them to their conversation.
"You don't believe me?" asked Dorian, a note of anxiety showing.
"I believe you!" reassured Musorov, smile dropping almost as if offended by the implication of disbelief. "I would certainly recognize the madness required to concoct such a fantastical story - as surely as your eye would recognize the color red when seeing blood. Moreover, I do not believe you have been deceived by some common prosaic phenomenon, such as a mere hallucination or intoxication; your tale includes too many technical details and subtle nuances. The fact most people would dismiss you as a madman speaks to the sad deficiency of imagination that plagues our society - a problem not easily remedied at the moment. However…"
The Doctor didn't so much as move a hand, as some faint wave rolled through the air. A section of the dark-tiled wall collapsed on itself, as if a mosaic were fractally collapsing downwards into the floor. This revealed a rack of metal rods that slid out like a drawer, extending across part of the room. Countless worktops suspended on chains and hooks were now revealed, each laden with research instruments. State-of-the-art chemical equipment for this world - bunsen burners, glass flasks, humidifier implements. On another shelf lay meticulously kept notes and documents, filled with dense scripts and mathematical notations so intricate they resembled the fine details of wood grain.
"How did you do that?" asked a flabbergasted Dorian, standing and following after a now spiritedly animate Musorov.
"Fulminance has a subtler side, one most aren't aware of," said Musorov with a calm. "Sadly, the delicate and deadly science of wavelengths has fallen by the wayside ever since the Diana incident! However, even simpletons know the seemingly miraculous effect of the lightning rod. Theorizing a correlation between metal and electricity's magnetic nature is simple, don't you think? I wasn't the first one to do so, after all."
"Are you saying that lightning elicits a reaction from metal?"
"Electromagnetism," answered Musorov with a calm and educational tone, striding across the room as Dorian followed. "Given your home's professed advancement, I assume you've heard of a lodestone?"
"Yes," said Dorian. "Are you saying magnetite is involved?"
"Not at all," said Musorov, with a faintly amused chuckle. "All metals, you see, are magnetic. With sufficiently subtle Fulminance, you can transform an electric field into a magnetic field. And voila, elicit a reaction from metal items." He clicked his fingers and caused one of the flasks - with a metal ring underneath its lip - to rise.
"That must take some proficiency." Musorov set the flask back down.
"Indeed, it takes many years of practice to reach sophistication such as mine: although I imagine that'll change with your advent. Advanced substantial sciences - the technical term for research of, or using, magics such as Fulminance and Murkworking - are, and always have been, an interest of mine," said Musorov, as he started to dig through binders of notes. "Following what you've told me, they have not occurred naturally on any other world than Demimonde?"
"No, they have not."
"Aha," hummed Musorov in acknowledgment.
"That is of interest to you?"
"Well, on your world this mysterious force of Facelessness - a curious phenomenon centered on identity - occurred naturally. Here on Demimonde, contact with certain natural forces such as lightning or particulates, instead grants the ability to manipulate: and indeed, generate them," answered Musorov. "I've theorized something a while ago, and have made strides in proving it. You, I suspect, shall be the final nail in my theory's turning into something more: a proven theorem, and even a practical application."
Dorian stood by, as Musorov paged through stacks of documents in search of a particular one while delivering a story of his own:
"A while ago, based on certain neurological observations I shan't bore you with, I hypothesized a medium exists, that can affect and is created and affected by all minds. We know from nature that a man's body accepts the dross of the ether: as an electrician does encounter the spark, so does he become a Fulminancer, and as the poor lady suffers bronchitis, so does she become a Murkworker. You see the pattern, yes? That a rock or an elephant, struck by lightning, does not continue on its own to make lightning means we are in some way specially predisposed to such absorption: therefore, the mental medium. Generally, damaging contact is likely not the point: I doubt these immaterial forces truly care if we are hurt by them, rewarding injury with power. Rather, I think the absorption causes harm to the human body as a byproduct of our saddening fragility."
He fished out a paper and stared at its contents for a moment, then shook his head and muttered something, continuing the search avidly.
"Therefore, I've theorized a mind sufficiently affected by exposure to the correct sets of programmed impulses should be able to rearrange its structure. What is emotion and thought, if not the substance of cognition? Much as your nerves absorb the lightning and continue to generate it, a mind should take in the cerebral dross and likewise become a transceiver of it, and I've had quite a number of exciting encounters indicating potential correctness on my part: long have psychiatrists spoken of asylum patients foreseeing the future, or other forms of similar extrasensory awareness. I suspected then, as I continue to do now, that such an aptitude came from their ability to derive information from the minds of others, and perhaps even the collective minds of everyone."
He finally found the correct paper: a record of experiments, at least five hundred in total.
"Naturally, proof of this is difficult: madmen do not cooperate easily, or even form cogent ideas most of the time. If indeed a force may be absorbed without damage, if the body its transmission affects is sufficiently durable, I decided I should aim to devise a means of safely reinforcing one's mind to start with."
Dorian started to see where this was proceeding. "Ah, to then subject it to some horrible or otherwise very poignant mental experiences," he said, "So that you could attain the power of a madman, without truly becoming mad. At least in theory."
"Yes!" cried out Musorov, followed by a bark of laughter. "Excellent. Your mind is sharp as a razor's edge, my friend. I've already managed some success on those initial fronts of reinforcement: neurological and Visceral research, recoding via superfine Fulminance, and so on. I'm sure you've noticed the effect on your psyche, as once I ran out of test subjects, I tested on myself. The effect is profound and does conclusively prove the existence of a medium: my psyche exerts a stronger effect on the cognitions of others through it as a carrier. Nonetheless, the final frontier awaits.
"And you'll help me with that," finished Musorov with a bright smile. "Namely, you'll craft me a mask that can aid me in carrying on through the final steps of the process."
"You want me to create a mask that'll subject you to a specific pattern of experiences, per your research of what's likely to drive a person dramatically mad," said Dorian very dryly, hoping that his tone would convey how laughably dangerous the idea was.
"You disapprove of the idea?" There was a conveyed disappointment there, in turn, and Musorov nearly seemed to pout. "But my friend, science cannot be done without collaboration or risk! If you seek my aid in figuring out the dire circumstances of this Street, you should aid my own research as well. According to your testimony, we don't even have much time: and this gambit's unlikely to function off of Demimonde, as the circumstances of the transferring medium may not exist elsewhere."
"That statement implies you'll be leaving with me?"
"If I can do so, of course. I strongly suspect this may be the case, with what you've said of attunement," he said with a nod.
"You'd leave all the people here?"
"Leave? Au contraire," said Musorov with a hearty chuckle. "Mr. Croft, I'll pioneer the people of this world a way off this damned rock. The first step of engineering is exploration, and its final step is innovation. We must first research the material conditions of this 'Street.' I doubt it'd admit a whole camp of survivors, let alone a world. Therefore, we must do as the vampires do and cheat like the dickens! Shamelessly so, Mr. Croft! We must scour the many worlds for other powers such as your masks or my substantial sciences, and figure out a way of tunneling from here to some excellent paradise, from which our enterprise shall only grow."
For once, Dorian was on the backfoot - most of that speech was ludicrous, but the last sentence topped all which came before it.
Only a few minutes ago, the man hadn't even known the Street was a thing. Now, not only did Doctor Musorov fully believe Dorian's story, he intended to utterly and ambitiously exploit the Street for every shred of world-traversing stone it was worth, and even then, use it only as a springboard to some other unseen horizon.
"I must say," Dorian eventually settled, "You're rather ambitious."
"Are you not also an ambitious fellow? I dare say, you set out on the same exact journey I am proposing, only that you intend vengeance on an emperor, whereas I intend the comparatively simple task of building a highway. Let us not compare our peculiarities in such a manner, Mr. Croft. It'll only spoil the tea."
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[ ] Refuse - According to the Doctor's speech, the risks of insanity are substantial: especially likely is a brief period of incurable madness, as the fractured mind forcibly recomposes itself back into a single construct. The odds it'll be a permanent state are non-zero: worse, the man could die, or even turn madly hostile to everyone around him, creating a monster potentially worse than any werewolf. You refuse to participate in such a horridly dangerous experiment: not when it could lead to your own demise.
Whether he'll aid you despite this is his own choice.
[ ] Aid Him - "I am Dr. Andrei Musorov. And I shall become... the first Mentalist."
The risks are substantial, but the idea of conduction is his own. His consent is downright enthusiastic, and if the procedure succeeds, you'll acquire yourself one hell of a powerful, loyal, and competent partner on your travels: a man who could glean twice as many insights into the some of the worlds you'll proceed to visit, especially those where the main insights to have are scientific, rather than sociocultural. The trade-off is that Musorov might not be entirely cogent for some of the time,
[ ] Aid Him, And Try It Yourself - Free psychic powers? Count you the fuck in! Let's both hit it at the same time. What could possibly go wrong?
(Your mind's not as reinforced as his own, and you don't have time to apply full inoculation. That's what could go wrong.)
According to Musorov's calculations, the risks of the procedure on himself are more or less as such:
*5% odds of a flawless procedure: an immediate do-and-recover with a full complement of whatever mentalist abilities this'll give him.
*20% odds of a brief (at most a day) period of uncommunicative madness of some kind; most likely severe delirium.
*40% odds of a medium-length (two to four days) period of uncommunicative and potentially worse madness; at least delirium, at worst violent impulses, etc.
*25% odds of some form of permanent madness, as the above, which'll become less severe over time, and potentially even be cured eventually.
*10% odds of immediate, irreversible dissociative ego death so severe it effectively resembles a catatonic state.
For you, the odds are likely moderately but not decisively worse, although not something he's run the numbers on. However, Import expenditure - the parameters of which won't be stated unless you pick this option - can defray the risks. You currently have about 10.0 Import.
There's also a faint possibility the medium of 'the mind' does not exist, and his theory's based on flawed premises. But you'll never discover that to be the case by not experimenting such as this, now will you?
[ ] Write-in
