A Humbled Scientist

Dr. Phineas Piffle, or as he was known in certain, more dramatic circles (mostly his own), “The Maestro of Mechanical Marvels,” surveyed the wreckage of his laboratory. It wasn’t so much wreckage as… well, it was a disaster zone of epic, albeit small-scale, proportions. A fine dusting of soot coated everything, including the perpetually ruffled hair that perpetually framed his perpetually flustered face. The air still carried the faint but persistent aroma of burnt bread, a scent that, even after several hours and a vigorous airing, clung to the upholstery like a particularly stubborn stain.

He sighed, a sound that was less of a sigh and more of a wheeze, like an old bellows struggling for breath. Communicating with household appliances. It had seemed like such a noble pursuit, a way to bridge the gap between humanity and the silent, humming servants that populated our homes. A way to ask the refrigerator why it insisted on making that peculiar groaning noise at 3 AM, or to find out, once and for all, what the washing machine was *really* doing in there during its spin cycle.

But the reality, as it so often did with Dr. Piffle’s grand designs, had been considerably more… fiery. And megalomaniacal.