The clinking of the rod as it hit the sides of the glass beaker was drowned out by the by the blood pounding in Dr. Wilson Percival Higgsbury's ears. All the chemicals were together, and he only needed to stimulate them to just the right degree. He'd spent weeks calculating the ingredients, and this time, he knew he had it…

When it was done, Wilson reached for the vial of other chemicals he'd mixed earlier. The chemicals in the vial had been left to slowly react with each other on their own, and the timing was just right. He grinned with excitement as he poured the vial's contents into the beaker. This time, it would-

BANG!

The entire mixture exploded in Wilson's face.

The noxious cloud from the reaction dissipated unusually quickly, but it was no less familiar otherwise. Wilson put his hand over his face. After a second, his hair, which had been blasted out of shape by the explosion, returned to its reliable, three-pronged shape with a boing. It always did that - Wilson had long ago stopped worrying about permanent damage to his hair - but he wished it didn't have to do that, or at least not so often…

He sighed, dragged himself downstairs and across the room, and slumped down into his chair. Another failure.

He really did try. Being what most people in the nearby town called a "mad scientist", he strived to create something that would make them see him for the noble gentleman he really was. He was still bitter about how they'd forced him to move out of town and into a shack in the forest far away from all of them…Sure, he'd done some experiments of seemingly questionable morality, but he really only wanted to do something that would benefit the whole world. If he could just find some way to create an amazing medicine, or a machine that everyone would be grateful to have - it didn't matter what exactly it would do, so long as it was something good…They would respect him - the would praise and admire him - and he wouldn't have to live so isolated from any and all human companionship…There isn't much point in being a gentleman if you're all alone, day in and day out…

He was very tired of this. It was always the same: Work hard, day and night, to develop a hypothesis and invention on which to base it; do everything precisely as he calculated; have it blow up in his face; then flop down in his chair and listen to the radio on the countertop next to him, the volume so low he could barely hear anything, and go through the same thoughts of loneliness and despair and depression…

"Say, pal…"

Wilson jumped about a foot in the air at the unexpected voice. Warily, he turned to his radio - the static in the voice he'd heard meant that it certainly had to come from there, though how it was so relatively loud was beyond him.

"Looks like you're having some trouble!" said the radio.

Wilson didn't jump this time, but he was still uneasy. He wondered if perhaps he finally had gone mad…but no, he was a scientist, he wouldn't imagine strange voices, not even coming from the radio…

"I have secret knowledge I can share with you," the voice went on.

Wilson's eyes widened at this. New knowledge? Secret knowledge, at that? To go into an experiment knowing something new, something important…

Wilson was so intrigued, even excited, he didn't give himself time to question what the mysterious voice's motives might be. He stood up from his chair and picked up the radio.

"…If you think you're ready for it," the voice added.

Wilson didn't hesitate. "Yes!" he exclaimed, nodding his head vigorously, an eager smile on his face.

"Ok, then!" said the voice, sounding just as eager as Wilson was.

There was a flash, and suddenly, information started pouring directly into Wilson's brain. He squeezed his eyes shut against the strange and headache-inducing sensation, raising the radio over his head as though he could dump the rest of the information out of the radio through the speaker. Visions flashed before his eyes - mathematical equations, molecular diagrams, images of devices, and other things so strange he couldn't identify them…

And then it was done.

Wilson opened his eyes, still more than a little shocked by what had just happened. It was almost offensive to him as a scientist for information to be transferred to his mind in such a direct way. He searched his mind for new content, and right away, he found an enormous plan for a machine with detailed instructions, as well as some other information he couldn't quite analyze yet. As he went through the instructions in his head, a smile spread across his face. This was going to be a real invention…

He immediately ran back upstairs to his workshop. Night had fallen already, somehow, but he didn't need sunlight. Wasting no time and refusing to question the logic behind the instructions he had been given, he got right to work.

He taped two rats together, binding them tight…He typed out formulas and equations on his typewriter, channeling the knowledge directly from his mind and through his hands…He put together mechanical and metal pieces together in ways he would never have thought to try on his own, twisting cogs into place by hand and using a hammer to knock structural pieces into place…He carefully painted over the metal with a black paint-like substance made from two certain chemicals he had never thought to put together (the instructions in his mind told him that this was very important, and far from aesthetic)…He twisted lightbulbs into place, having wired the device that was coming together surprisingly quickly to channel electricity in certain directions…He welded together seams that he would have thought to leave as they were…At the end, he even had to grasp a knife blade in his hand and cut his palm to allow his blood to drip into a mix of chemicals he never would have thought to put together, never mind add his own blood to - the mixture exploded, but this time, he knew that that was supposed to happen, and he poured the resulting compound into what he guessed was analogous to a fuel tank…

Finally, it was ready. Wilson couldn't quite understand what he'd built, though - strangely, the knowledge he'd been given didn't include that information.

"Excellent!" said the voice from his radio, speaking up for the first time since he'd started working. "Now throw the switch!"

Wilson reached for the lever, but suddenly, he wasn't so eager to proceed. He had no idea what this machine would do - it could rip the very fabric of space and time apart, for all he knew. It certainly looked like something that would have that sort of purpose - not just on the outside, but also considering what he knew of its internal components…

He hesitated, his hand trembling in the air just an inch or two over the lever. For the first time in his life, Dr. Wilson Higgsbury was scared - scared by the potential consequences of inventing such a construction on the word of a mysterious voice that theoretically shouldn't even exist, never mind know what he was doing. He knew what people said about his failed inventions - that he'd been trying to devise something immensely powerful and destructive, something downright evil. What if someone had tricked him into doing just that…?

He pulled his hand back.

"Do it!" shouted the voice, the enthusiasm and encouragement in its tone replaced by anger.

Wilson jumped, then made a split-second decision, more afraid of the sudden malice in the voice he was hearing than he was of the machine he'd built:

He threw the lever.

Immediately, cogs started to turn, pieces started to shift, and suddenly, the enormous device unfolded itself into something much taller. There was a flash of light, and in it, Wilson saw a face in the new shape of this machine - a terrifying face, long and relatively thin, with a frightening grin that took up two-thirds of its length…

Wilson stepped back; suddenly, he was more afraid of the machine than anything else again. It looked like it was doing something, and Wilson got a very strong feeling that he didn't want to know what was going to happen.

The voice from the radio laughed wickedly, and Wilson knew he'd been tricked. He only barely had time to process this realization, however, before two hands that had seemed to be shadows thrown by the device reached up out of the floor and grabbed him, fastening around his chest. He tried to jump away from them, but he could feel himself being pulled down. Flailing his own hands as through hoping to grab onto the air itself to keep him from being taken by the nightmare hands, Wilson was sucked down through a dark portal through the floor, and with a pop, he and the shadows vanished.

Far away, though directly observing the events that had transpired, Maxwell laughed.