Project 117 – Notes 3 –
* Transportation device project terminated.
Walter was readying himself for Exploration 1 of the project – retrieving Dr Alfred Gross circa 1930 to treat his son.
** The equipment for the device was scattered by Walter himself. Since his stance had shifted, he felt himself morally responsible to shield his work even from William and myself. We know that the parts of the device have been divided and stored in a series of safety deposit boxes but the locations for which we do not know.
That the project was scientifically unsound was not what changed Walter's mind about the exploration (Personal unforeseen circumstances).
Attached, personal lab report –
When news of Walter coming into the lab late last night and trashing the place reached me, I can't say that I was surprised. I am rarely surprised by his behaviour, or Bell's, because I know them. I have come to care for them and it is with insufferable guilt and anguish that I too must acknowledge the death of the minor. Or, at least, so I thought that morning.
Upon Walter's work station was all of Peter's drawings and artwork that he had ever presented to us. He was always sketching away the long hours we held him in the lab: after school, at the weekends. His mother was probably just grateful that his father seemed to be making time for him and never thought to question what he actually did there.
It is my understanding that they had been having problems in their marriage and the woman worked extended shifts herself. I doubt money was her incentive. She may have just needed away from the child as much as his father did, and away from the father even more so. I'm sure they both regret that now.
I grinned and cried all at once when Walter, slumped over the work station and already drinking, pushed a scrap piece of paper towards me. In the picture I had an electric shade of orange hair and a huge ear-to-ear smile across my face. I was apparently passing young Peter a test tube: through powers of deduction it had to be Peter's perception of himself because the figure was drawn significantly smaller than the orange me and there was a bold 'P' on his shirt.
Walter was feeding that damned coin between his hands again, almost like a nervous tick and only pocketing it whenever he brought his single malt to his mouth. I accepted the picture and turned away from him, it was William who broke our silence.
He enquired after the boy and Walter's eyes brimmed with tears. William asked again, even being so polite as to rest a hand on the man's shoulder. He started shaking his head and muttering, standing up and moving about the lab talking of repentance and sin and time and judgement.