"So..." Astrid began, her voice carrying the weight of countless repetitions of similar conversations, as she seamlessly transitioned into her multifaceted roles—dutifully serving as the vigilant guard, the ever-reliable helper, the tireless errand girl, and occasionally, the co-surgeon alongside the esteemed yet idiosyncratic Mad Scientist, Walter Bishop, who, with the capital letters signifying his extraordinary credentials, also held the position of CEO at the renowned and very successful corporation, Massive Dynamics. She stood amidst the chaotic expanse of the cluttered laboratory, where scientific apparatus of various sorts and half-finished, enigmatic experiments were strewn about haphazardly. Her voice, a mixture of genuine curiosity and a subtle undercurrent of weary acceptance, reflected her familiarity with the peculiarities of her environment and the eccentricities of her boss.
"What's this all about, Walter?" Peter Bishop inquired, his voice carrying a tone of deep exhaustion that seemed to come from a life filled with too many trials and tribulations. Peter, who hailed from the alternate universe referred to as Red, had been brought to this universe—often described as Blue—under circumstances that many might consider akin to a kidnapping, after the death of his own counterpart in this universe. He gazed at his father with a complex blend of mistrust and begrudging fondness, the emotional turmoil evident in the way his eyes reflected a lifetime of conflict and unresolved feelings.
"Walter, what exactly is happening here?" Olivia Dunham's voice reverberated with a mix of authority and concern. As the lead agent tasked with handling extraordinary and often surreal occurrences—whether it was accelerated aging phenomena, explosive crystalline devices, or any other anomalous situation—the weight of her responsibility was ever-present. Olivia, one of the rare individuals who had become superhuman as a result of a controversial and experimental drug concocted by Walter Bishop and his late colleague William Bell, the former CEO of Massive Dynamics, was accustomed to navigating the most unpredictable scenarios. Her piercing gaze swept across the room with a sense of alertness and readiness, bracing herself for whatever unforeseen development might arise next.
The original team of the Fringe Division had been enjoying an unexpected hiatus from their usual whirlwind of cases involving fringe phenomena and parallel universe escapades for several weeks. During this rare period of respite, the agents had opted to explore their own personal interests and pursuits, stepping away from the relentless chaos that typically defined their work. For a team so thoroughly accustomed to navigating the strange and dangerous, this break from the extraordinary was a double-edged sword—offering both a welcome reprieve from the constant danger and a subtle sense of unease at the quiet. The absence of immediate crises allowed them time for reflection and relaxation, but it also left them on edge, anticipating that the calm was merely the eye of the storm before the next surge of unusual and potentially hazardous events.
Walter, on Astrid's recommendation, had taken to watching anime. This new hobby led him to binge-watch an array of sci-fi and supernatural series, indulging in storylines that stretched the bounds of imagination and reality. Given Walter's history of turning inspiration into groundbreaking—sometimes dangerous—experiments, there had been some apprehension about whether his newfound interest might prompt him to attempt recreating something perilous from these shows. Fears of encountering Kerr's black holes or Spiral-powered machines manifesting in his laboratory had loomed large. However, despite these concerns, Walter's forays into experimentation had so far avoided such catastrophic outcomes. His projects remained relatively subdued, though they retained his characteristic eccentricity and often veered into the morbid.
"My boy, I've managed to recreate that sword!" Walter declared with a flourish, striking a dramatic pose as though he were wielding an actual blade. His hand, though conspicuously empty, moved with a precision and enthusiasm that suggested the presence of a real sword. His eyes sparkled with the unrestrained delight of a child who had just unearthed a long-desired toy, every bit of his demeanor radiating the thrill of his latest achievement. This announcement, seemingly innocuous in its simplicity, was accompanied by a sense of foreboding as the team's previous fears about Walter's experimental inclinations began to resurface.
"Sword? What sword?" Peter inquired, his brow furrowing in deepening confusion. His mind raced through the labyrinth of series and anime they had collectively indulged in, attempting to identify which particular storyline or character had ignited his father's latest fixation. The question lingered in the air as Peter's thoughts darted through the fantastical narratives and dramatic encounters they had witnessed together, searching for any clue that might explain the genesis of Walter's sudden, and rather unsettling, enthusiasm.
"The sword from that anime," Walter replied, his impatience tinged with a touch of exasperation. "Don't you remember watching it with me, Peter?" His tone carried a blend of surprise and slight frustration as if the answer should have been obvious. Walter's gaze shifted between Peter and the empty space where he had so theatrically mimed holding the sword, clearly expecting a moment of recognition from his son. The reference to their shared viewing experience seemed to emphasize the disconnect Peter felt, as he struggled to recall the specific anime episode or series that had inspired this latest endeavor of Walter's.
"We've watched so many series, Walter. Which one are you talking about?" Peter asked, his tone carrying a hint of annoyance. He crossed his arms defensively, bracing himself for whatever new madness Walter was about to introduce. The sheer volume of their shared viewing experiences had left him struggling to pinpoint the exact anime that had sparked his father's latest obsession. He crossed his arms, bracing himself for whatever madness Walter was about to unleash.
"The sword from ChäoS;HEAd," Walter replied with an air of exasperated clarity, as though the reference were self-evident. "The one with the toy-like sword and the delusional boy." His description, though specific, was delivered with a casual confidence, leaving little room for doubt in his mind that Peter should have immediately recognized the connection. Walter's enthusiasm about the anime's intricate details contrasted sharply with Peter's growing unease as the implications of this particular obsession began to settle in. The mention of the "delusional boy" and the "toy-like sword" only heightened Peter's concern about the kind of experiments Walter might be on the verge of conducting.
"Oh," Peter's expression shifted from annoyance to deep concern as the gravity of Walter's revelation sank in. "Wait, you mean the sword that can alter reality? Walter, that's insane!" His voice was tinged with urgency as he stepped closer, his worry for his father's safety escalating rapidly. While his immediate concern was for Walter's well-being, it was overshadowed by an even greater fear—the potential disruption to the integrity and stability of the universe. The mention of a reality-altering sword set off alarm bells in Peter's mind, heightening his anxiety about the possible consequences of Walter's latest experimental pursuit.
"No, my boy, it's brilliant!" Walter countered, his hand gesticulating with animated enthusiasm. "We could have more of these swords!" His excitement was palpable, his eyes alight with a fervor that belied the potentially dangerous nature of his ideas. Walter's vision was vivid and clear in his mind, filled with possibilities and the promise of extraordinary new developments. Despite the obvious impracticality and risks associated with creating reality-altering weapons, his enthusiasm remained undeterred, reflecting a passionate drive that often led him to embrace an innovative—even if it was a dangerously impractical object.
"Walter, why can't you recreate something harmless, like a Gundam or even an Evangelion?" Peter pleaded, his voice tinged with frustration and a hint of desperation. He understood the futility of trying to divert Walter from his current, dangerously ambitious path but felt compelled to make the attempt nonetheless. Peter's plea was an attempt to steer his father towards something less risky and more manageable, hoping that suggesting iconic, non-threatening robots from anime might shift Walter's focus away from the dangerous idea of reality-altering swords. The thought of navigating through yet another potentially catastrophic invention weighed heavily on him, and he clung to the hope that a more benign project might provide a safer outlet for Walter's boundless creativity.
"Now, now, Peter, those are impractical," Walter dismissed with a wave of his hand as if the very notion of Gundams or Evangelions were beneath consideration. "A sword is much more feasible, and those shows are too boring." His tone was one of resolute finality, underscoring his unwavering commitment to his current obsession. Walter's mind was firmly set on the path he had chosen, driven by an insatiable curiosity and a relentless desire to explore the boundaries of possibility.
"It's not boring, Walter, and you need someone with a specific brain condition to use that thing," Peter countered, his voice edged with concern. He aimed to appeal to Walter's scientific sensibilities by emphasizing the inherent dangers and complexities involved. Peter's attempt to reason with his father was not just a plea for safety but also a reflection of his own appreciation for the anime in question. He had enjoyed those series and felt that dismissing them as "boring" was a slight against something he valued. By highlighting the necessity of a particular neurological condition to wield the sword, Peter hoped to underscore the impracticality and potential hazards of Walter's latest pursuit, hoping it might redirect his father's focus towards a safer, less hazardous project.
"I have an idea for that," Walter said, his eyes sparkling with the gleam of someone who had already mulled over and set aside countless objections. His expression was one of triumphant ingenuity, as though he had anticipated every possible concern and had already crafted a solution to address them. The twinkle in his eye suggested a sense of excitement and confidence, underscoring his determination to forge ahead with his ambitious project despite the potential risks. Peter's apprehension grew as he realized that Walter's enthusiasm was not easily swayed by caution or practicality.
Olivia's voice, tinged with frustration, cut through the room as she demanded, "You have an idea for what, exactly?" Her eyes were wide with a mixture of exasperation and disbelief, the kind that only came from dealing with Walter's notoriously complex schemes. "What now, Walter?" she continued, her tone carrying an edge of weary impatience.
Walter, with an air of casual confidence, as if he were discussing the weather, proceeded to explain, "It's really quite simple. We implant the same condition into someone's brain." He spoke with a tone of assuredness, as though this suggestion were the most straightforward and self-evident solution imaginable. The way he presented it made it seem as though it was an obvious answer to a problem that, in reality, was anything but simple. His nonchalant demeanor only served to highlight the stark contrast between his perception of the ease of the solution and the complex, potentially perilous implications it entailed.
"That's, well, an interesting idea," Astrid, who had been silent, finally spoke. Her words, though spoken with an air of neutrality, were laced with a subtle note of caution, indicating that she was far from convinced that this seemingly straightforward solution was as innocuous as Walter believed.
Peter, his face flushed with growing agitation, interjected vehemently, "No, Astrid," Peter protested. He stepped forward, closing the distance between himself and his father with a determined stride. "Walter, you can't just implant a brain condition in someone like it's a minor inconvenience or an afterthought. That could kill them!" His words were charged with urgency and distress, reflecting a deep-seated fear and moral outrage at the reckless nature of the proposed solution.
Walter waved off Peter's concerns with a dismissive gesture, his tone light and unconcerned. "Ah, no need to worry, Peter," he said with an air of casual reassurance. "I've already tested it on myself." His nonchalant admission was delivered with an almost unsettling level of ease, as though the idea of experimenting on himself was a trivial matter.
"What?" Peter exclaimed, his voice a mixture of disbelief and confusion. His eyes widened dramatically, reflecting the sheer astonishment that had overtaken him. He stood there, momentarily frozen in place, as if grappling with the overwhelming shock of what he had just heard or seen.
"Yes, I have the condition, and I'm perfectly fine," Walter stated with an air of nonchalance. His tone was remarkably casual, as though he were discussing something as mundane as the weather rather than addressing a matter that could have serious, potentially life-threatening implications.
"What is this condition anyway, Walter?" Olivia inquired, her voice maintaining a calm and composed tone. However, her eyes revealed a different story; they were filled with a deep, underlying worry that contradicted the steadiness of her voice.
Walter, tapping his head thoughtfully, elaborated, "There's this ongoing, unceasing release of dopamine in my brain, and it's happening even though I'm not under any stress or facing any immediate danger. It's quite intriguing. Moreover, my brain's synaptic connections are undergoing a substantial reconfiguration, a sort of intricate rewiring, which is necessary for me to generate the sword. And let's not forget the side effects associated with utilizing 70% of my brain's capabilities, as opposed to the usual 20%. This increased cognitive load brings about its own set of consequences."
Astrid, with a puzzled look, inquired, "Sword?"
Walter, with an air of casual indifference, responded, "Oh, I'm referring to the DI-Sword, the very same one featured in the series." At that moment, a white, toy-like sword materialized in his hand. He nonchalantly added, "I've named it 'White Tulip.'"
Olivia, her brow knitting into a furrow of confusion and a hint of alarm as a sword unexpectedly materialized in Walter's hand, repeated, "DI-Sword? What does that mean?"
Peter, his face reflecting a mixture of recollection and unease, stepped in to clarify. "It's short for Delusion Ideal Sword," he explained, searching his memory for details from the show. As the reality of what Walter had created sank in, Peter felt a heavy, unsettling weight in his stomach, realizing the full implications of the sword's appearance.
"Now, shall we begin?" Walter asked excitedly.
"Begin what?" Astrid, Peter, and Olivia asked in unison.
Walter, with a cheerful and almost buoyant demeanor, declared, "Oh, it's all part of the experiment, of course! The idea is to test whether White Tulip can truly make a delusion into a real thing, or "realbooting", as they put it in the show." His enthusiasm was palpable and somewhat infectious, even though the implications of his experiment carried a potential for disaster.
Olivia's eyes widened with incredulity, and she asked, her voice tinged with disbelief, "You haven't tested it yet, Walter?" Her expression conveyed a mix of astonishment and concern. Despite her apprehension, she couldn't help but think that it might be for the best, given the nature of the object he just created.
"Of course not," Walter replied with a casual air as if preliminary testing was a trivial concern. His demeanor suggested that such considerations barely occupied his thoughts. "Now, please be silent. I need to concentrate!" he added, his tone taking on a more serious edge. "And don't blame me if a monster appears—if you disturb me now, it'll be on your heads." With that, he pointed the sword at the table, signaling his intent to focus on the task at hand.
Within mere seconds, a box of Walter's favorite licorice materialized on the table. The appearance of this seemingly harmless treat was innocuous enough in itself, yet the implications of such an effortless manifestation were profoundly staggering. The ease with which it had appeared hinted at the vast and potentially uncontrollable power behind the "realbooting" experiment, casting a long shadow over the seemingly innocuous toy-like sword.
"The experiment is a success!" Walter declared triumphantly. As he spoke, the sword on his hand dissolved into a wisp of black particles, vanishing without a trace. With a satisfied nod, Walter turned his attention to the box of licorice, eagerly inspecting it to confirm the results of his experiment.
"That's it?" Astrid asked, her voice tinged with disbelief. Her eyes remained fixed on the box of licorice, clearly unimpressed. She had anticipated a result that was far more dramatic and definitive, and this outcome seemed to fall significantly short of her expectations.
"Yeah, Walter, I expected more," Olivia chimed in, her voice carrying a note of slight disappointment. She exchanged a concerned glance with Peter, both of them silently contemplating the implications of the experiment's outcome and what it might mean for their future.
Walter, munching on a piece of licorice, waved a dismissive hand. "Oh, relax. It's just a small step. I needed to test the basic functionality first before moving on to something more significant. Baby steps, Olivia. Baby steps. Besides, it's either this box of licorice or a groundbreaking, never-before-seen equation that holds the potential to unravel the very fabric of time itself."
"On second thought, yep, that's good enough," Peter said with a tone of finality. "It's far preferable to bring a box of licorice into reality rather than risk creating another invention with the potential to cause another apocalypse."