Welcome to the 100 Word Stories podcast at oneadayuntilthedayidie.com.
This is Weekly Challenge, where I post a topic and then challenge you to come up with a 100 word story based on that topic: SUPERCONDUCTING
We’ve got stories by:
- Lady Blue
- Anima Zabaleta
- Tura Brezoianu
- Dionysis Clowes
- Norval Joe
- Planet Z
The next 100 word stories weekly challenge is on the topic of SKELETON…
Inventor assassinated by G.E.
by John Musico
Traditional superconduction is to cool the conducting wire enough so that the electrons traversing its surface do not impede one another. Professor Minsky had a novel approach. Launch a series of protons along the conducting medium. This accelerates the electrons towards the leading proton and the repulsion of the trailing proton further accelerates the leading proton. It involved no cooling at all. He called it; “The proton accelerator”, a single device that could be applied to an entire traditionally wired network. He presented his work at Stockholm. Before he could complete his presentation; a shot rang out from the audience.
I held my breath as the magnet hovered gently over the small tray of superconductor and liquid nitrogen.
The minutes ticked to hours; I thought about my family and how long it had been since I had seen them. How many years?
They promised they’d let me go if I did this for them. They said that my research would change the world.
The magnet continued to hover, even when the metal warmed to room temperature.
I did it. Endless power and energy. To the wrong people.
I took the gun, placed it in my mouth, and pulled the trigger.
The Pick-Up Line
by Jeffrey Fischer
Pam straightened her skirt and wiped a stray hair from her face before stepping into the room. She wondered how many bad pick-up lines she would get tonight, and briefly considered starting a Tumblr account to document the particularly bad ones. The first few were oldies but baddies, including “Is your name Google? Because you’re the answer to everything I’m searching for.” Pam couldn’t even muster a groan for that; she simply walked away.
But the prize-winner for the evening was a badly-shaven man wearing a shirt filled with equations and a punch line no normal human would understand. Holding a plastic cup of beer, he sidled up to her and said, “Hey, babe, I know you want to go to my place. ‘Cause I’m a superconductor, so you’ve got no resistance to me.” She punched him in the face. “Conduct that.”
The God Particle
by Jeffrey Fischer
The second Thursday in September was Professor Frankenberg’s day to use the superconducting supercollider. He was going to find the God particle and win his Nobel Prize for the work. He had even written out his acceptance speech already.
When the time came, however, the professor had a little performance anxiety. He started up the big machine, but accidentally put the device in reverse. His equations were sound. However, what he ended up with was evidence of the Dog particle. Subsequent research showed how annoying this particle was: it stopped at every opportunity to spray smaller particles to mark its territory, and insisted on sniffing the rear ends of other particles.
Frankenberg didn’t mind the cruel remarks his fellow physicists made about his discovery. The Nobel prize and cash award took away the sting.
#1 – George’s Story – Part 73: Trauma Ward
The trauma ward turned out to be relatively compact, containing only a few beds – things seemed to be going George’s way; super! Conducting a quick search, he managed to locate the bed he’d vacated when he’d first woken up and with interest, scanned the notes hung at its foot.
Car accident. Coma: these words sprang out at him; then more words that made little sense: Candidate sixteen – final batch.
What the hell did that mean?
Turning to the bedside locker, he opened it, expecting to find his personal possessions. Oddly, the locker was empty – so where were all his things?
#2 – MRI
It’s an offputting experience – being slid, headfirst into the MRI scanner.
Claustrophobia grips you in the confined space; you lie stock still, terrified to move, lest you ruin the image, Then the thumping, grinding, clunking begins – every fibre of your being is acutely aware that you’re surrounded by massive superconducting magnets, spinning at thousands of revolutions per minute and cooled in a bath of liquid helium.
But the worst thing of all isn’t the knowledge you could be ripped to shreds and frozen solid.
It’s being forced to lie there, listening to Neil Diamond on those blasted headphones!
#3 – First Violin
First Violin isn’t the most glamorous role in the orchestra – sometimes you’re not even noticed – it lacks the drama of the percussion section and the glitz of the brass but there are perks to the job.
For a start, I have a prime seating position – handy for quick exits to the bar after performances, and I have a great view of the hot blonde playing the cello!
And, of course, should the Musical Director be taken ill, or fail to show, then it’s my turn to step into the spotlight… believe me, it really is super, conducting!
#4 – Business Acumen
Supercon Ducting was the family business – not that I could ever work up much enthusiasm for cabling works, but it was a successful company and I wasn’t complaining.
Even so, I couldn’t help dreaming of the bright lights and neon that a more high profile career might bring, and when the chance to sell off the business and pursue my dreams came up, I grabbed it with both hands, and I’ve never looked back since. Hollywood, here I come!
Yes indeed, Supercon Lighting and Signage (Los Angeles), is doing very well indeed, and is much more fun than cabling!
The Remodeling Project
Igor! Come here! Schnell!
Yes, Herr Doktor?
Have you seen this latest electricity research going on in Zurich? Amazing! I think we should remodel the laboratory, replacing this antiquated 18th century copper wire equipment with the latest transformers and fault limiters from ABB. Ja, Think of it! Thousands of amperes of current! With all of that power, the new creature will certainly have better manners than He of whom we do not speak.
Und since the new equipment is so much smaller, we could add that sewing room you have always wanted, Igor. Won’t that be nice?
Oh yes, Doktor :P
Straight Up Steady State
Gabriel floated up to God. “Sorry to say Lord, but you look horrible,” stated the Archangel “Damnable CERN.” “Don’t get your drift, Boss?” “Since that bloody superconductor started picking off Higgs bosons a bunch of Me has slipped over the Einstein–Rosen Bridge.” “Anything I can do?” “How thoughtful Gabe, could you take that flaming sword of righteousness and whack the first law of thermodynamics into tiny particles. “Won’t that cause a multiverse reset?” “Might, might not We’ll just have to roll the dice.” The Angel whacked, all was blackness.
“This time no entropy. What the fuck was I thinking?”
I Am Jeffery’s Prostate
There has been much mention of Jeffery’s prostate here at the 100 Word Weakly Challenged, but many of you may not know that Jeffery’s prostate is actually a superconductor. Yup it cranks out PH level that are right off the chart. Which has spawn, forgive the pun, a whole new industrial repurposing.. Cutting artistic patterns in rare earth substrates. I got him to write my name out is cursive Further he has been getting proposals, forgive the pun, from all the major Physic Research centers. Years from now Jeffery will be known as: The Father of Bio-Physics, forgive the pun.
Creating in the Pre-Post-Human Era
Living with an artist it not the easiest of relationships. For one practical possessions are forever ending up in art projects. Gail’s battery power Latte frother is in a piece at the Tate. Be friending an artist will reduce your gardening hardware. Dianna’s pitch fork is on loan to the MOMA. Since I am member of the Friend of CERN I have been eyeballing the Hadron Collider superconductor for a LED project. Have you seen that thing, damn colorful as hell and all heavy metal proto stempunk? It will be a giant POV that alternately spells out DOG and GOD.
A Well Defined Relationship Part 71
Banister dropped the superconductor coils into caterpillar mode to compensate for the waves of oncoming g-loads. The last thing they needed was getting enveloped in a blue hole, which was just a tad bit more tolerable that a stay in a black hole. Higgs bosons sparked off the batlofts and the tardic stage. The Duke snaffled down the Higgs and was happily glowing vermilion. The net effect inside the stage was a glowing unbridled disproportal level of optimism. Le Cid burst out gleefully, “Want to hear my evil villain plan for your demise?” Smiling Smith chirruped, “Love to hear it.”
I’ve been good, for the last little while, about the puns.
When the new prompt, each Sunday, is announced, my instinct is to go meta and warp the story toward a gag, but I’m aware that I’m frequently the only one who finds such shenanigans amusing, and I’ve been consciously trying to wean myself away from this behavior.
My stories haven’t always been great, but they’ve at least been on topic.
It’s something I think I’m entitled to be proud of, and that nobody can begrudge my pride in.
Yes, on this point my conduct has been super.
Line a toroidal tunnel with superconducting magnets.
Insert a white-coated, bespectacled and bearded particle physicist at one end, turn on the power, and rapidly accelerate your scientist around the tube.
Once they are approaching something near light speed, slam them into a solid, immoveable object – preferably another scientist.
It’s unlikely you’ll discover anything remotely useful, let alone anything resembling a ‘God particle’ – and it can hardly be described as proper scientific enquiry, but I’m no scientist, just a specialist travel agent.
And it does make for an exciting and entertaining day trip for those fundamentalist church outings
It seems to be a fad to wear punny costumes this year. I decided not to combine my Old Man Time and Iron Man Costumes to become the Iron Age. I love the Miss Universe costume but doubt I would look good in a star spangled dress. So I am watching Shining Time Station, skipping to the parts with George Carlin or Richard Starkey. I am studying these two acting greats because this Halloween I will put on a train attendant’s uniform with underwear over my pants and a cape over my shoulders then go out as Super Mister Conductor.
“At the height of the storm, lightning flashes down and strikes the conductor’s electronic baton. At once he is transformed into Karajan: Superconductor! Wielding his supercharged baton, he conducts vast symphony orchestras in acoustic feats that astound the world!”
“Wherever a crisis looms, Karajan: Superconductor is there! Drawing on the sonic energies of the earth and the sky, he averts volcanic eruptions, turns tsunamis, and routs revolutionaries with the force of music that can make even the dead dance!”
The comic artist finished his pitch and waited breathlessly for the publisher’s answer.
“Don’t call us,” he said, “we’ll call you.”
He had always been fascinated by the precision of his father getting ready for work each night.
Pressed black pants, stiff leather belt, black socks, shiny black shoes, the fancy white shirt and black bow tie.
Always so careful, it was like a dance.
For his tenth birthday his mother took him to see his father at work.
Bouncing with excitement he waited for the lights to come up.
When they did the the first thing he saw was a long black coat like a cape.
From that day on he told everyone that his father was a super conductor.
“Zero resistance. And… ahm… that’s it, ladies and gentlemen.”
The large audience was perplexed. That’s it? They paid for an overpriced two-hour long seminar.
The abrupt uproar of indignation caught the speaker running away as fast as he could.
Two members of the audience hurried behind him. When they reached the back exit, there was no sign of him.
Later that night, a cleaning lady touched a small round disk and she too disappeared mysteriously.
Like so many before, she returned decades later to say “zero resistance”, right before the Great Surrender. Earth became a popular destination, but… not for humans.
The two boys lay still in the darkness. A faint light crept under the door with the woman’s sobs. The younger boy leaned closer as something shattered, but they better not fuckin’ touch.
Tell me again, T, he whispered.
The older boy came back and spoke. I’m in a library with lots of books studyin’ my superconductors. It’s easy to get food. I know everything there is about superconductors.
What about me, T? Am I there, too?
Not knowing how he knew, wishing he didn’t. You’re safe, D, he lied.
I wish I could go with you, T.
He said, I do, too, and grasped the younger boy’s hand.
Garbage Man tapped on the door. Light glinted off the brass plaque.
“Death was your leader years ago. From what I researched, he’s been in prison for five,” Dergle said.
“That’s true,” Garbage Man said and opened the door. “We haven’t gotten around to replacing the sign.”
A man sat in a chair his hands raised before him and lighting arcing from one to the other.
“What do you want?” The man asked, his eyes hidden by dark glasses.
“Superconductor. This man wants to join us.”
“What are his powers?”
Garbage man looked at Dergle and said, “I don’t know.”
Billy hates it when it’s too hot.
He likes it cold. Really cold.
He keeps the air conditioner on full-blast at home.
There’s no point in keeping things in the fridge. Or freezer.
His place was a walk-in freezer.
One day, it got so cold, that the metal wristband on his watch turned into a superconductor.
The current coming from the battery in the watch now had zero resistance, and the watch began to levitate.
It launched itself across the room, ripping Billy’s arm off.
He quickly bled to death, sprays of red across his frosty white sofa and carpet.