“Igor! The lightning rod!”

In my line of work I find that an assistant called Igor vastly improves one’s thinking processes. I’ve tried other, similar names, like Boris or Alexei, but they just don’t work. For true inspiration, an Igor is required.

“The construct is ready, Master DeRainge.”

“Good. Let’s get crakin’!”

Creating a living mega-brain is not easy. You have to install flotation plates at the base of the small brain, insert the psyelectrodes at just the right places, and keep the damn thing moist at all times. Luckily, I’m a mad scientist, so I have the know-how and monstrous will to get these things done. Why I’m getting them done, now, is a whole different levitating nerve cluster.

“Right. All the switches primed?”

“Yes, Master.”

“All the valves pressurized?”

“Yes, Master!”

“All villagers within sixteen miles locked up in the dungeons?”

“Yes, yes, master!!”

“Igor, you are a treat. Let’s fire this sumabitch up!”

And as lightning arcs into the tissue, all I could think is: I love my job.