The One About the Lab Ray

      Though it wasn't particularly loud, it was enough to awaken the Scorchio. Reaching over with a lazy gnarled hand, he bopped the Beepallite alarm clock on its head, ceasing any further beeps and causing the plastic satellite dish to fold up into itself.

      Stumbling gracelessly from his bed into the bathroom, the yellow Scorchio blinked blearily at his reflection and wondered absently why his eyes were red and swirly. With a flare of panic, he tried to remember what exactly he had done last night. The synapses in his not-unimpressive brain fired accordingly, and, sighing with relief, he recalled that he had been recalibrating the machine, and went to bed with his safety goggles on (as usual). He yanked them off, revealing somewhat beady, black eyes, and rubbed tiredly the deep red ruts that now surrounded his nose.

      After a quick wash and donning a clean, albeit worn laboratory coat, the Scorchio took a fresh cup of borovan and wandered onto his balcony. Being situated upon an island in the middle of the ocean naturally meant that most days were beautiful, and today was no exception. The mountain in which his living quarters were situated was pristine, and the surrounding plant life was green and vibrant. He noted happily that the Tchea fruit flowers were blossoming nicely and that the marrows were nearly ready for picking. He tried to ignore the huge queue of Pets that encompassed the island, a difficulty since most of them were talking rather loudly.

      Finally, when he knew that he could put it off no longer, the Scorchio left his domicile and took the underwater elevator to his laboratory. In the clear tropical water, the great structure could be seen from the surface, especially when he powered the whole thing up, as it glowed a soft green. The aboveground entrance, a.k.a. The Visitor's Entrance, was on the side of the island opposite his house. It was a special path that led from a palm tree-adorned arch in the mountain, to a long, tubular, metal walkway that sloped gently into the laboratory building.

      With a sinking feeling in his chest, the Scorchio flipped the lever that opened the pathway doors. Even nearly a mile underwater, he could hear the echoing cries of nervous excitement and the pounding footfalls of many paws and hooves. He put his goggles on, wincing slightly as they dug into the still-tender bits of the skin around his eyes. Taking his seat behind the controls, he noticed idly that the stuffing was poking out of the chair cushion. He was about to write down a reminder to himself to buy a new one, but then it was too late.

      "YES, I WANT TO TRY THE RAY AND I AM AWARE OF THE CONSEQUENCES!"

      The Scorchio made a mental memo to buy earplugs (and a chair cushion), and glanced at the human and Pet ensemble now before him. The ones who came daily were standing obediently in the marked queue lines he had made on the floor. Others were crowded round the lab ray itself, some reaching out with tentative paws or wings to touch it.

      "Please don't touch."

      That phrase was only one of many that the Scorchio repeated throughout the day. Other gems included:

      "Please stand still."

      "Please don't run away."

      "Please stop crying."

      "Please get out from under my desk."

      The morning "customers" were the worst, as they were almost always newbies who had no idea what was going on and would pester him with questions, to which the Scorchio would inevitably reply, "Please read the pamphlet."

      By lunchtime, the flood of owners and Pets had dwindled to a mere trickle and the Scorchio could even eat his sandwich in relative peace. It was also the best time to update user research data. The morning deluge was too hectic for him to do anything other than ZAP, ZAP, ZAP, but the afternoon gave him the chance to observe who used his ray and for what purposes.

      Many Pets were obviously pressured by their owners, and thus, were scared and nervous. They would stand trembling uncontrollably in the circle underneath the ray and flash plaintive looks at their families. The best thing for the Scorchio to do was zap quickly and without warning. It startled the living daylights out of them, but kept the sobbing hysterics to a minimum.

      Some Pets were clearly used to it. The Scorchio had a terrible memory for faces, but even he recognized returning customers, who would often give him a pleasant greeting or nod. Those Pets were either eager or resigned to the whole affair. One Uni had been zapped Faerie, and she and her owner had been so thrilled, they had danced round the entire building, kissed him on both cheeks, and later, sent him a huge basket of assorted fruits and vegetables. Those scenarios he was all too happy to commit to memory, but such occurrences were few and far between. He remembered one Pet being zapped Robot, and both owner and Pet had responded with all the enthusiasm of winning free soap.

      You can't please some people, he would remind himself on such occasions, and continued his work.

      Today was a fairly typical day. Pets and owners came and went, usually with no more fanfare than a wave and a "Thank you." It was nearly dusk when a very large group of Pets wandered in. The Scorchio prided himself on being objective when it came to rare species and colors – we're all Pets on the inside, he would say. How else would he be able to justify having not ever used the ray on himself? But even he couldn't ignore the intensity of status and wealth that this latest bunch emanated.

      Royal, Desert, Faerie; Draiks, Peophins, Krawks – they were all immaculately dressed, as well. The Scorchio counted about eleven, all standing in quiet, straight rows, looking very elegant and poised. Their owner came forward, a tall, somewhat imposing woman who was as adorned in as much finery as all her Pets put together.

      "Good evening," she crooned in an upper-class Brightvalian accent that the Scorchio was sure was faked. "This is the Laboratory Ray, I presume?"

      "Yes, ma'am," the Scorchio replied courteously. He sensed that it was best to humor someone like this.

      In a swift movement, the woman pulled something from behind her back, and the Scorchio found himself staring at a rather small, plain Red Usul. It was shaking violently, and kept looking over at his brothers and sisters, who stared fixedly straight ahead.

      "It needs to be 'zapped'," the owner said coolly.

      "Does 'it' have a name?" the Scorchio asked, still in a polite tone.

      The woman raised an eyebrow. "What is your name, pray?"

      Deciding to drop the subject, the Scorchio turned to the Usul. "Please stand in the circle over there, under the ray." It slowly half-walked, half-crawled to the circle indicated.

      "What is your name?" the owner demanded.

      The Scorchio smiled, but said nothing. The control machine began humming expectantly as he pushed several buttons.

      "It will only hit the Usul, correct? Not the Draik?" the woman suddenly interjected.

      Looking over at her Pets, the Scorchio noticed that a Royal Draik was standing in the back, nearly entirely hidden from view by his brothers and sisters.

      "The beam only strikes in the circle, ma'am," he reassured her.

      Flicking a few switches and pulling a couple levers, the Scorchio didn't look up when he punched a huge red button thoughtfully labeled, "ZAP!" A flash of blinding light and it was all over. The Usul felt all over its body with shivery hands, clutched its tail protectively, then gave a relieved smile. Its owner turned to the Scorchio with a cold look.

      "Has something gone wrong?"

      Statistics flooded the Scorchio's computer screen. "No, he gained 3 movement points."

      The woman snapped her fingers, and the Usul immediately stopped grinning and fairly sprinted back to his family, where he stood in a empty space and snapped to attention like the others.

      Turning back to the Scorchio, the owner sniffed, "It needs to be zapped Gold. What are the odds of that occurring?"

      "Haven't the slightest. I don't keep records of that. It's too random."

      "Of what do you keep records?"

      "The people that use my ray and why. I'm guessing you like Chocolate, right?" the Scorchio flashed what he thought was a winning smile.

      The woman didn't look amused. "No. The guild of which I am a member allows only the best of Pets." She vaguely waved the Pets behind her. "As you can see.

      "Chocolate would be a handsome addition to my collection," she added.

      The Scorchio bristled, but kept his tone neutral as he told her to come back tomorrow to try the ray again. He watched the troupe march up the pathway and out of sight.

      "Trophy Pets," he spat angrily.

      The Scorchio held a great resentment towards those who wanted their Pets zapped not to have a nice color, or decent stats, or something equally personal, but as trophies for other owners to admire. They usually were cared for, but not loved. And Draik owners were the worst. Guarding them like a fragile ornament as if a stray beam from the ray would somehow arc across the room and strike their precious commodity. It was enough to make him want to quit the whole business.

      Upset and simmering with bitterness, the Scorchio closed the laboratory early.

      The laboratory used an absurd amount of electricity throughout the day, so the Scorchio felt it environmentally sound to spend his evenings with candlelight. The warm little flames made the place seem friendlier than it actually was, though tonight, they seemed cold and distant. He slammed pots and pans around the kitchen, still burning with anger.

      The Scorchio didn't know why this particular owner had gotten to him so. He had seen her type before and others besides, all wanting the same thing: status. He knew that fame seekers were far outnumbered by honest owners, and that it was for those people that he had made the ray and why he had never let himself become discouraged enough to quit. But this last incident was making out to be the straw that broke the Apis's back.

      After burning his finger on the oven, the Scorchio gave up making a decent meal and ate some peanut butter from a jar.

      It was a very cranky Scorchio that trudged into the laboratory the next morning. After sleeping fitfully, he had sat on his goggles and broke the lenses, and then, had ripped the sleeve of his favorite lab coat on a doorhinge. He plopped into the control chair in a state of irritable anticipation as to what else could go wrong today.

      Surprisingly, the morning passed better than most. Nearly every visitor was in a good mood, and someone even came by with a little yellow Kookith as a gift for the Scorchio, to thank him for his services. He had tried to turn it down – what would he do with a Petpet? - but had relented in the end. There was an intelligent gleam in the Kookith's eyes that appealed to him greatly.

      By late afternoon, the Kookith had already become quite attached to the Scorchio. It pottered around the laboratory, looking at this and that, making little "koo" noises. The Scorchio noticed its curiosity in the ray, though it wisely kept a wide berth.

      Idly wondering if a petpet lab ray would garner any interest, the Scorchio didn't notice his next customer until they were practically in his face.

      "Hello!" a boy said cheerily. "I've come to have a pet zapped, please. It's our first time."

      The Scorchio appreciated manners more than he'd ever care to admit, and felt his bad mood finally dissipate entirely. He asked the boy (who introduced himself as Adam) if he agreed to all terms and conditions of use of the ray, and to have his pet please step into the circle indicated on the floor.

      To the Scorchio's intense astonishment, a Draik peered out from behind Adam and trotted warily over to stand under the ray.

      "It doesn't hurt, does it?" the boy asked, looking worriedly from his Pet to the Scorchio.

      "He's a Draik," the Scorchio choked.

      Adam gave a lopsided smile. "Yeah, I guess you don't get many of those in here, do you?"

      Suddenly suspicious, the Scorchio glared at the boy. "Are you having me on? Is he really a Draik? Has he been stolen? Is it just a very realistic costume?"

      "No, he's real... And mine," said Adam, looking alarmed.

      The Scorchio's ill humor had returned with full power – and he had been almost happy just a few minutes ago.

      "What's the game here? No one just zaps a Draik. Aren't they valuable?"

      The boy straightened his gangly frame. "Maybe to some people. But to me, he's just Gus."

      Gus?

      "He's my friend and partner," Adam went on. "We're adventurers! We go anywhere and do everything together. Species and color changes don't matter as long as we're a team! Adam and Octavius!"

      "I thought his name was Gus?" the Scorchio said, ignoring that both the boy and the Draik were now saluting each other.

      Adam put his arm down. "Gus is for short."

      "Ah."

      Shaking his head in disbelief, the Scorchio booted up the machine and a ZAP! echoed in the laboratory. The Draik, or rather, Gus, looked around. He appeared unchanged.

      "What happened?" the boy queried, trying to lean over the controls to look at the screen.

      "Two defense points," the Scorchio said, raising his eyebrows slightly as Adam gave a broad grin.

      "Not bad for first zap!" he hooted, giving his Pet a high-five.

      The pair left after promising to return, and the laboratory was quiet once more.

      The Scorchio had never before seen such a relationship. No matter how accepting an owner could be, there was always a slight preference in choosing a Pet and its color. Some owners indeed preferred a boring Blue Bori over a fancy Faerie Flotsam and would never consider changing it, but he had not met someone who simply didn't care.

      "He'll be singing a different tune when it gets zapped into a Uni or something," the Scorchio decided aloud. The Kookith gave a squeak of agreement.

      The day finished quietly, and the Scorchio closed down the laboratory and went back home. He spent the remainder of the evening contemplatively, wondering about that Adam boy and his Draik...

      It was the Kookith that awoke him the next morning instead of his alarm clock. The Scorchio had set up an impromptu bed in a old basket, but evidently, the Petpet had grown lonely in the night, and had curled up at his feet. For such a small creature, it had quite an impressive snore.

      Morning came and went with the usual flurry of anxiety and excitement from all who came by, and it wasn't until after lunch that the Scorchio found time to start working on making a little lab coat for the Kookith. (He was a practiced hand at sewing, though it wasn't a hobby he actively advertised.)

      He was still working on the sleeves - should there be two or four...? - when Adam and Gus made a reappearance. The Scorchio bit back a gasp of astonishment; he honestly had not expected their return.

      Grinning as toothily as ever, Adam hardly batted an eye when the ray went off with a terrific ZAP! and the Scorchio revealed the changes had been four maximum hit points. The pair left with a cheery farewell and "See you tomorrow!". Sure enough, they came back the next day, and continued to be a regular visitors. Over the following weeks, the only changes were fluctuating stats for Gus, and the Kookith strutting around in its new clothes.

      Then the day finally arrived: a species change.

      ZAP!

      A squat, red Grundo was suddenly standing in the circle where a handsome Draik had once been.

      In spite of himself, the Scorchio felt sad. He had nothing against Grundos personally, but he knew that they were not very highly regarded. Now he would see where the boy's loyalties truly lay. As Gus examined himself with an oddly expressionless face, Adam gave a low whistle.

      "That was... something," he said slowly.

      "It's all completely random," the Scorchio said, somewhat defensively.

      "Oh, I know. It doesn't matter, it was just surprising."

      The Scorchio stared.

      With a wave of Adam's hand, Gus shuffled over to his owner's side in a sort of rambling, tipsy walk. Both of them smiled at the Scorchio and headed toward the exit.

      The Scorchio was stunned. Could this really happen? Maybe there were people in Neopia who loved their pets as much as themselves and would do anything for them, no matter what they looked like. Maybe zapping was a way to fulfill a pet's own wish or further a dream. He had to know for sure.

      They had gone nearly halfway before the Scorchio finally stopped them. "Wait!

      "Don't take this the wrong way, but you really don't care that he isn't a Draik anymore?" he asked the boy when they turned round.

      Adam's perpetual smile did not wane. "Nope. I'm planning to morph him, you see. A Krawk, which is much better than a Draik, anyway. I was just zapping him for fun."

      The shock forced the Scorchio's mind to a halt, and his mouth gaped open like a fish. Then his vision took on a tinge of red, and, filled with suppressed rage and disappointment, he choked, "I thought you said you were a team, and appearances didn't matter."

      The boy clearly didn't appear to notice the warning signs. "Well, of course we're a team. Morphing potions don't come cheap, you know. Have to work hard for hardly any money. And appearances don't matter here. I don't particularly care what happens to him here."

      Adam's toothy smile suddenly looked malevolent, and Gus just looked pathetic. The Scorchio didn't respond to their farewells besides slamming the door behind them very hard.

      The next day, visitors were greeted with a large sign sloppily hung over the closed entryway, which simply said, "CLOSED." No one had any idea if this meant services were merely suspended or terminated completely. Even on the island, however, one could hear loud, disconcerting noises of high activity coming from the laboratory under the sea.

      Word spread, and after a few days, only the loyal (or desperate) still came to the island, hoping against hope that the sign would be gone. The sole change that anyone could detect was the whole area seemed mistier than usual, and it was rather more difficult to find the place.

      One day, it couldn't be found at all. Fog as thick as jelly that surrounded the area for miles made navigation nigh impossible, even from the air, and a huge coral reef that certainly hadn't been there before, prevented passage via the water. People sent stern letters to the lab ray scientist, but all messages came back with "Failed to Deliver, Return to Sender" stamped on the envelopes.

      Spontaneous expeditions were set up to find the island by some believing that the scientist was trapped on the island by the mysterious fog, and others by wanting to engage that old yellow Scorchio in fisticuffs for taking away their precious lab ray.

      None of them succeeded.

      The Scorchio himself knew nothing of what was going on "out there," as he began to refer to the rest of the world. Every morning, he would get up, eat breakfast with his Kookith, and head down to the laboratory as he had always done, but now solely to check on the fog machine. The lab ray stayed idle, a fine layer of dust over the controls.

      Aside from keeping up on chores, gardening, and working on silly toys for the Kookith, the Scorchio did much thinking. Even as he was very happy with his solitary lifestyle, he knew that it was just a vacation, albeit a rather enjoyable one. His scientific need to share his inventions with others was too great to overcome. He had big plans that would require test subjects. The new, improved lab ray, for a start. And perhaps, a petpet lab ray...

      It was late one night when he began to sketch a map...

The End