Boredom had struck a scientist, and it's entirely possible that boredom kills. If it could kill, it would likely be one of the most devastatingly efficient ones, instead of the ones that take your money and bugger off with it.
A skeleton, with two odd cracks and holes in his hands, had been thinking a lot recently. He thought about a lot of things. That was one of the things that was required as a scientist. The one thing that was not required, however, was too many thought processes.
One, was the state of his work. What would he do once the King no longer needed a Royal Scientist? Did he even have any qualifications that weren't faked? What would he do with Sans and Papyrus? What about Alphys? What about the several other assistants? Did they have anywhere to live? Was Alphys doing okay with her own experiments? Were said experiments ethical, and were they beneficial to everyone?
Unfortunately, this seemed to cause him a great deal of anxious leg bouncing, which would only be remedied if he stopped that train of thought before more carriages were added to an impossibly poor track.
The other train of thought, however... seemed to be an absolute mess. It constantly switched tracks, twisting and turning like a snake that was writhing in pain. Indeed, snakes would writhe in pain if they saw this overly-complex metaphor. But it's not something that can be changed, no.
Neither of them were any good. Perhaps he should establish a new train of thought. But that could take a while, considering his track record with getting distracted.
So, for now, he just sat there, waiting. Maybe he bounced his leg a little.
He needed some form of stimulation. Perhaps... coffee. Yes, a cup of coffee would probably do him some good. It's been at least an hour since his last one, and being the (barely) responsible adult that he is, he's decided to grab another one to keep himself awake. Despite the fact that he's been up for over twenty-four hours, this is a good idea. Yes. A very good idea, clearly.
Pushing his chair back and gritting his teeth at the noise of the metal legs against the ceramic tiles of the lab, W.D. Gaster got out of his seat. First things first, he needed to pop his back into place. This was easily remedied by him stretching. Maybe one day he'd reach the ceiling, if the period for his growing wasn't over. Otherwise, he'd stay at the boring old height of 5'7. (Unless he replaced both legs with prosthetics or wore heels.)
Still, the ceilings of the laboratory rooms needed to be high enough so that larger monsters could fit in. The main one being Asgore Dreemurr, king of all Monsters. W.D. Gaster was the Royal Scientist, and Asgore Dreemurr was his superior. The King often asked how he was doing and how projects were going. Sometimes he'd forcibly pull Gaster out of the labs for a spot of tea within the flowers and under the golden light of the sun. Within one of the cavern's rooms, Asgore had taken to growing flowers. The flowers were golden, almost resembling the ones from the family of Asteraceae. (These were otherwise known as Compositae flowers.) The clusters of flowers reminded the scientist of the sun. It had been... a long time since he- or, rather any monsters, had seen the sun. Let alone the stars of a night sky.
While the crystals rooms of Waterfall gave everyone a space to think, they were not very good as a substitute for the stars. He'd already known of multiple families that had never seen them. A rabbit's grandchildren might not ever get to see them, considering how short their lifespan was. And there were the monsters that had managed to survive after the war. They missed the stars. The rooms filled with crystals were beautiful in their own ways, but they weren't true stars. You couldn't see galaxies in them. You could only see your reflection in them, or, if you were looking up at the ceiling, gentle twinkling from the roof of the cavern.
Caverns. They were stuck in them. Stuck in them until another four humans fell, and then they'd wage war on humanity. But humanity had advanced, and the doctor had found box-like monitors. He'd also found damaged computers, a handheld videogame console and several other things. It annoyed him that such things had been thrown in the trash. Why not just rework and reuse them? It would be much easier and would save on the materials- imagine the stuff he could get done with the materials used to create a single monitor? Why, he could easily make a much better one that ran on a user's magic.
Oh, come on. Move, you skeletal fucker. I, as the Narrator, do not have all day to narrate your erratic thinking processes. You'd think that I would have gone away by now. No, I'm still here. And I still have to narrate all of your bloody thought processes. All of your thoughts, Wing Dings Gaster. All of them. I will broadcast them to the Undernet if it stops you doing absolutely stupid things, Gaster.
The scientist finally begins moving. Only, instead of going to the coffee machine, he's gone straight over to Alphys, gently calling her name.
Gaster- Gaster no. You can't kidnap Alphys and take her for a cuddle session in a bunch of pillows and- and-
Oh, for God's sake. He's gone and done it anyways.
Since this story has been thrown so far off track by the complete idiot that is supposedly the Royal Scientist, I've an obligation to end it here. I refuse to continue this, so I've decided to wrap it up neatly in an ending that will not leave you wanting more in any way, whatsoever.