The Triumph and Eventual Dissolution of Doctor E. A. Valdemar Mad Scientist.

By Jeff Baker

The grey-haired man in the lab coat stared town at the tiny figures and raised fists in triumph.

“It works! It works!” he shouted to the heavens. “My Shrinkalator works!”

His assistant Dwight stepped out onto the hotel balcony and sighed.

“They aren’t shrunken, Doctor Valdemar,” Dwight said. “They look shrunk because we’re on the thirty-fifth floor.”

“Oh,” Doctor Valdemar said. “Then when I bring out my Shrinkalator, I will minimize the populace and have them do my bidding!”

“We discussed this before, minimized people an inch high would be largely ineffective for your plans of world conquest.” Dwight said.

“How so?”

“You’ll need people to run things and people the size of a mouse can’t operate planes or buses or the military-industrial complex or anything else you’d need.” Dwight said.

“What kind of mad scientist’s assistant are you anyway?” Doctor Valdemar asked, his eyes narrowing.

“We’ve discussed this before, too.” Dwight said. “I’m the consultant you hired. Your business model, remember? World domination is impractical anymore.”

“An army!” Dr. Valdemar breathed, his eyes wide. “An army made of the stitched-together parts of…”

“NO! No army,” Dwight said.

“Drones with flying hypnotic rays?” Dr. Valdemar asked.

“No.”

“Control of the world’s major broadcast outlets?” Dr. Valdemar asked hopefully.

“Nobody really broadcasts anymore,” Dwight said. “Streaming is the big thing today.”

Dwight stood there staring, a light dawning in his eyes. He smiled.

“Doctor Valdemar,” he said. “How would you feel about a mass-market saturation campaign?”

—end—