The Astonishing Alchemist - vol. 01

Lang jots down note after note on a yellow pad. If his lab is any indication, he keeps about a hundred of these pads on hand for keeping notes about everything.

So what's Folstad doing working with Lloyd Labs? And what's worth killing for? he muses. Then writes that down on his pad, and underlines the questions twice, for good measure.

Wonder how the device plants those sensory inputs? And if it's just emitting, or if it's more direct neural stimulation. Could explain the headaches and nausea...

He exhausts his avenues of microfiche research and looks over his notes one more time. Satisfied that he's got something to go on now, he heads back toward home. Ever since he went underground from his job at Lloyd and lost his family, he's developed a healthy sense of paranoia, so he takes a different route home than the one he took to get to the library, asking the taxi to let him off a few blocks from home. He stops at a pay phone along the way, and dials up Alicia.

"Hey, it's me. Look, did you happen to see who Folstad met with at Lloyd? He seems to have a stake in some sort of headwear that stimulates senses, but it generates headaches and nausea, which makes me think it's more than just a fancy set of headphones."

Alicia stays silent for a few moments as she thinks. "He mostly had free reign of the place. I couldn’t exactly track the guy all day or anything; I do have a job to do besides helping you out, you know. I saw him coming out of a few meeting rooms with various groups of people. The usual bunch of marketing and mid-level management types that are too thick headed to understand anything we do. Science might as well mean magic to those dummies.

"I could go to a couple of departments and do a little sleuthing." There is that excitement in her voice again. "From what you’re describing I could imagine him talking to neural implants, biochemists, or maybe pharmaceuticals. If I head down to those labs and casually drop his name, I might be able to see what he's after from the company. By the way, how's the new puppy? What did you name him? I've been waiting to hear all day."

"Uh..."

Idiot, of course she's going to ask you for a name, why didn't you think of one first?

Lang looks up and down the street in sudden desperation. Dry Cleaners. Hardly a name for a dog! Retro Records... Retro... nah, no good. What's that next to the record store...

"Rocky! His name is Rocky. He's good."

Thank you, Rocky's Gym...

"I guess put your ear to the walls around neural implants. There's a tech down there, Raj... he and I used to play racquetball back in the day. He might be able to tell you something if you're careful how you ask. Don't get yourself in trouble, Leesh, okay?"

He runs a hand through his hair, which just gives it another oddly angled wave in addition to the three he already had. "I've got to go back out to Folstad's place tonight and see what I can find out. I hate to leave Rocky at home alone, though..."

"Not the greatest name, but I suppose it will have to do," Alicia says, not trying to hide her disappointment. "I would have gone with Thaddeus Crowe, but we all can’t be as gifted as I am at naming pets." There is a noticeable change in the inflection of her voice when you ask her to pet sit. "Oh wow, Lang, this isn’t quite what I imagined it would be like when you finally asked me over to your place," she teases. "Tell you what, make sure to order me a pizza and I’ll be there at seven." The phone becomes muffled and you can hear her supervisor’s voice telling Alicia she needs to get back to work. "Gotta go, see you tonight! Make sure you get the high quality dog food for Rocky. None of that artificial stuff!"

Lang holds the handset away to give it a disbelieving look before he puts it back to his ear.

Thaddeus Crowe?

"You got it, Leesh. Thank you. I really mean it. I owe you. Which probably makes it about 36,000 things I owe you," he says, and as he hangs up, he smacks his forehead with the heel of his hand. Dog food!

Luckily, there's a store down the street, so stops to pick up a few groceries, a TV dinner or three, and a bag of dog food. Not knowing what the high quality stuff is, he springs for the expensive stuff and hopes those two things equate. Alicia will certainly tell him when he inevitably screws that up too.

He checks his watch as he walks out of the store, and decides it's way past high time to be heading home. He goes down to his basement apartment and unlocks the three deadbolts and then the door. Hopefully, the dog -- Rocky, his name's Rocky now -- hasn't been too destructive yet. Might as well go inside and find out.

When you open the front door, the smell of chemicals is overwhelming. It hits you like a brick to face and nearly causes you to drop the groceries you bought. You can hear the sound of Alex Trebek blasting from your TV.

"This teacher stayed with Helen Keller from 1887 until her own death in 1936."

'Who is Ann Sullivan?' A second voice. One you don’t recognize at all. It sounds like a middle aged man who is suffering from depression.

"A 2-inch-long nail."

'What is a six penny?' A contestant rings in and answers the same. Alex affirms it is the correct. Slowly you walk into your home, unsure what is going on.

"Ole Rolvaag spent most of his life at St. Olaf College teaching this language and wrote books like ‘Giants in the Earth’ in it."

'What is Norwegian?' Again, the contestant rings in and answers the same.

"That’s right. And that will take us to our break." The voice inside lets out a deep sorrow filled sigh.

You peak around the corner and find the only occupant of the living room is Rocky. He’s sitting on the couch staring at the TV. His fur, the couch, and parts of the carpet are all stained various colors from what you can only assume are concoctions from your lab. When Rocky notices you his eyes light up a little and he sniffs the air in your direction.

'Oh good, you’re back. You better have brought me some more food, boss.' Rocky’s mouth doesn’t move but something inside of you has no doubt the dog is one ‘speaking.’

Well, there go the eggs.

Lang, a bag of dog food in one arm, a bag of human groceries in the other, drops both with a resounding whump. The groceries tip over and the egg carton -- of course -- dumps out in a gooey, yellow mess.

"Oh my goodness gracious," he says in utter, complete, soul-deep shock. "What did you... what have I..."

There are so many possible words, how do you choose any of them when confronted by, from the looks of things, a highly intelligent, telepathic puppy.

Finally, weakly, Lang manages to say, "R...rocky?" Realizing that the dog probably has no clue of the name assignment, he hastens to add, "That's... uh... that's the name I was going to call you, but..."

Lang runs a hand, then both hands, through his hair. "Maybe you should choose your own name now."

The dog jumps off the couch as the groceries hit the floor. He darts from item to item, sniffing with great interest. At one point he goes to slurp up the spilled eggs but stops himself. ‘Nope. Don’t want to risk getting salmonella.’ He looks up at you. ‘You need to be more careful, boss.’

He tilts his head sideways as you suggest he choose his own name. ‘Names are more of a human thing. My kind tend to identify each other in other ways. Rocky seems like an odd choice, but it's fine by me.’ The two of you stare awkwardly at each other for a few moments until Jeopardy returns from its commercial break and gets Rocky’s attention.

‘I guess I can skip it. I imagine you have a few questions for me.’ He goes back to the living room and turns off the television with his nose. He takes a seat on the couch and pats the cushion next him, indicating for you to take a seat.

‘First off, let me apologize for making a mess of your lab. I was a naive puppy at the time, compelled only by my desire to find more food. While I admit, my next meal still constantly weighs heavily on my mind, I believe I have developed greater self control and respect for personal boundaries since I finished reading your entire encyclopedia.’ He nods his head to the bookshelf that holds a 32 volume Encyclopedia Britannica.

"So many questions. So very many questions," says Lang, dropping heavily onto the couch. "I can't even begin to imagine what bizarro cocktail of chemicals led to this, so I won't ask how it happened. But... first of all... you can talk, but telepathically? Clearly you understand human speech, and you can read English. Wait... you read the ENTIRE encyclopedia? And you understood it? And remember it! Oh my goodness gracious. This is amazing!"

He breaks into a grin as more of the sheer awe-inspiring craziness of it all sinks in. "When I was a kid, I used to dream of having a dog that could talk. This is so cool, I wish my son..."

That brings him up short, the sudden heart-wrenching desire for his son -- he'd be five now, just right for a puppy, had the car crash not happened -- to be here to experience it making his chest ache.

"Never mind," he says, voice cracking just slightly. "So you're a super intelligent, telepathic dog now. How does that make you feel?"

Rocky’s tail momentarily stops wagging as you mention your son. He makes a move toward you but stops. His tail starts wagging rapidly again as you address him. ‘You know, I’m not really sure how I feel about all this. I hadn’t given it a lot of thought. This is all sort of new to me.

‘Let me start at the beginning. I don’t understand what changes took place exactly after I knocked those chemicals all over me. There was a blackout period and I came too laying there on the living room floor.’ His head motions to the spot on the floor. It looks like a multiple color police chalk outline of a dead dog as the chemicals dyed the carpet directly around him.

‘When I came to, I knew something was different. My thoughts were now formed in words, and better yet, I understood what those words meant. It was amazing. I wanted to talk to someone but... you know this is a really depressing place to live, boss. So little natural sunlight, neighbors all away at work. Not going to lie, it was a bit of a blow to suddenly be granted this gift and have no one to share it with.

‘I ended up scouting around the place which is when I learned about my other gift. I didn’t so much read the encyclopedia as much as... absorb it? I focused on it real hard trying to figure out what it was and within a few minutes I had the entire collection of knowledge inside this beautiful brain of mine.’ He sounds so much more upbeat and happy talking to you now then he did earlier playing Jeopardy by himself. ‘Hope you don’t mind, but I absorbed every piece of written information in this place. Can you get me some more books next time you go out?’

Lang looks around his apartment, ignoring for the moment the complete disarray. He sighs, shaking his head. "It is kinda dark and dingy, isn't it? I was looking for somewhere off the radar, somewhere I could build a lab that wouldn't be easily noticed. When it's just me, I don't think much about it to be honest. Most of the time I'm here, I'm working in the lab, so..."

He rubs a hand over his face, staring at Rocky. "You absorbed all of the books in here. All my old chemistry texts. Lord of the Rings. The phone book. All of it? I can't even imagine how it happened."

Lang slaps his knees and stands up. "C'mon. I'll get you some food -- hopefully you like it okay, Alicia told me... my stars, Alicia. What is Alicia going to say? Do you know if you can talk to other people? Do you have any other talents? I mean, the ones you have are already super duper amazing, but... we should go for a walk! Run some experiments! Whaddya think?"

‘That’s right, boss. Every written word found within these walls. Did you know there are 117 people in San Espero named Wilma?’

Rocky’s tail starts to wag even faster as you mention food. He hops down off the couch and paces back and forth, urging you to get up and feed him. ‘No clue, boss. My world is pretty much limited to this small dwelling at the moment. A walk sounds really nice. Stretch my legs, check out the sights, and see what this brain can do. So far those two abilities are all that I’m aware of. This whole day has been a ‘leaving the cave and seeing beyond the shadows’ experience. I’m up for taking a walk and seeing what else we can learn.’

You have neither leash or collar, but hardly expect that to be an issue. Rocky sticks by your side as you lock the door behind you and start to walk down the sidewalk. Rocky sniffs along the ground and his eyes dart about at every new sight. It is all... very ordinary actually. Normal dog behavior.

It takes a few minutes before you come across any other people. It is an elderly couple out for an evening stroll. The woman starts making little cutesy kissing noises when she sees Rocky and bends down to pet him without asking for permission. "Oh what a lovely little doggie you have." She gives his head a good scratch, which Rocky seems to enjoy.

The elderly man gives you a stern look. "You know we do have leash laws around here. If he were to bite someone while unleashed, you’d be liable to get sued, Mister."

Rocky looks up at the man. ‘Why on earth would I bite anyone?’ He sounds highly offended. The elderly man is still staring at you, waiting for a response while his wife continues to pet Rocky. There is no indication that they heard Rocky speak.

Lang, ever the scientist, watches Rocky and the elderly couple alike for signs of communication outside of the normal canine tail-wagging and tongue-lolling. He can't help but let an amazed smile creep onto his face, as though he's observing dog-human interaction for the first time. His fascination keeps him from replying to the man right away, but he does slowly turn to speak after a while. "Rocky's a very gentlemanly dog, sir, I can assure you. Very smart. He loves to watch Jeopardy, if you can believe it."

He's trying so hard not to laugh at the surreality of it all, but he can't quite keep the corners of his mouth from twitching up. "I think you've made a friend," he tells the woman.

A bit of small talk, continued disapproval (but no arguing) from the old man, and Lang and Rocky continue on.

After another block or so, Lang says quietly, "So, Rocky... do you, uh, know what it is I do on the side? Outside of the chemical synthesis work?"

Rocky stops walking and you have to turn around. He gives you a wink. It looks rather odd coming from a dog, but it is clear that it was intentional. ‘Don’t worry, boss, your secret is safe with me. I also won’t tell anyone about that time you cheated in the 2nd grade spelling bee.’

You both stop walking. That certainly wasn’t written down anywhere in your home. You haven't even thought about it in years. You’ve also been careful not to leave incriminating evidence of your alter ego lying around as well, just in case Lloyd Laboratories makes an unexpected visit. Sure, your concoctions and costumes are there, but there aren't any notes saying 'Langford Thomason is the Alchemist!' that Rocky could have read. Rocky seems to pick up on all of this as well.

‘I think the mental link that allows you to hear me talking must go deeper than we originally thought. I swear I didn’t go prying around in your head for that information. It was just like *pop* and I all of a sudden knew it. I got an idea. Try talking to me. No, not like you have been. Do it like I do it. With your mind.’

An idea is beginning to form in Lang's head, but he keeps it quiet for now. At least, he doesn't voice it verbally or put it into words in his head. He does let the image form though, and that will serve as the experiment.

As they walk, Lang recalls the image of Folstad's compound from last night. The details he was able to commit to memory given his generally exhausted state, at least: the 12-foot high iron fence, the grounds beyond it he was able to make out in the darkness, the face of the guard. He lets that sit for a moment, then pictures himself as the Alchemist, with Rocky by his side.

From a secluded spot across the street, he takes one of his mutagens, which gives him incredible leaping ability (and landing ability too... that was something that required going back to the drawing board a few times). Rocky jumps into his arms, and together the two of them sail over the fence to land quietly inside the compound.

Rocky jumps down and moves toward the massive house on feet much quieter than the Alchemist could ever hope for. In his mental movie, Rocky tells him telepathically, or whatever you call this nonverbal communication, where the guards are positioned, his canine senses of smell and hearing generating a three-dimensional mental map of the nearby area. The Alchemist nods, drains a vial of super-speed mutagen, and leaps forward with blinding speed to disable the two guards before they're able to even blink in surprise.

Without speaking, he lets the movie fade from his awareness and turns to look at Rocky, eyebrows raised with the unspoken question: did you get that?

There is a long silent pause as Rocky stares blankly at you. Just when you are starting to think that your experiment did not work, an image forms within your own mind: Rocky eating a nice bit and juicy t-bone steak. ‘We got a deal, boss?’

A few minutes later, without even realizing it, you are on your own street and within eyesight of your place. You see Alicia leaning against his parked car looking at her watch. She taps her foot over and over on the ground and looks extremely annoyed. She turns and spots you; her arms spread wide in a ‘what gives?’ manner. When she sees Rocky her eyes light up and she hurries over so she can kneel down and pet the dog.

"Hey there, Rocky! You and me are going to have so much fun tonight. And stupid-selfish-always late Dr. Thomason is not only going to buy me a pizza, but also pay me full dog sitting money for the night because he made me wait outside in the summer heat. Isn’t that right, Rocky?"

Rocky looks up at you. ‘I am so glad that you appear to be the only one that can hear me, boss. I do not want to explain to her that the plans changed and she came all the way out here for nothing. Good luck.’

Lang thanks his lucky stars -- something he senses he's going to be doing frequently -- for Rocky's presence in his life. Someone to blunt Alicia's disapproval (which is frequent) over his absent-minded professor-type antics (which are more frequent) will come in awfully handy.

He lets Rocky amble around wagging his tail and soaking up the attention for a little bit before he tries to explain. "So, uh... you're not going to believe this, but tonight's plans have changed."

Seeing Alicia start to protest, Lang holds up his hands and quickly adds, "For reasons you're not going to believe, but I promise that you'll absolutely love, that we should talk about inside over a pizza. For... you know... reasons?" He offers her a hand to help her stand up, and together they all go inside the apartment.

Which is still in its state of complete disarray.

"Lang, what on earth happened in here?" Alicia says breathlessly as she takes stock of the wreckage.

"Yeah. Funny story," he replies, quickly moving to clear a spot on the couch for her to sit. Papers (newspapers, journal articles, junk mail) and books (textbooks, a comic book, a paperback or three) tumble to the floor. Lang grabs a chair from the small dining table and turns it around backwards before he sits down facing her on the couch. He launches into the story of leaving Rocky at home while he went to do some research (there's that disapproval again, but Lang careens onward through his story), coming back to find his suddenly super-intelligent telepathic canine companion, and their walk around the neighborhood.

Alicia maintains the stoic demeanor of a scientist analyzing data throughout your telling of the story. For a long while after you finish she looks back and forth from you to Rocky. Eventually she reaches out her hand and presses the back of it to your forehead. "No fever. Did you take a blow to the head last night? Listen to yourself, Lang.

"You’re telling me your dog can talk? Telepathically? And he is some kind of super genius. And that this all happened because he knocked over random chemicals. Didn’t even ingest them. They just fell on top of him. By that logic we should expect your sofa and carpet to start writing Shakespearian sonnets any minute now!"

‘I don’t think she’s buying it, boss.’ There is no indication that Alica hears anything. She stands in the middle of the living room, hands on her hips with a disapproving expression on her face as she waits for a response. If you try to respond, she cuts you off.

"Let’s for one minute assume that I believe any of this is possible. Prove it." She looks to Rocky and addresses him in a much more friendly tone. "Prove it." Rocky looks at you. He does what looks almost like a shoulder shrug, but it is awkward looking coming from a dog considering they have to continue to support their weight with the arms that are shrugging. Alicia seems to notice this too, and takes a step back in surprise at the vaguely human gesture.

Huh... Super Shakespearean sonnet sofa...

Lang has to viciously stomp out the urge to giggle at the alliteration and the mental movie. He's scatterbrained, but he's not suicidal. As Rocky gives his doggie shrug, Lang looks back to Alicia and gives her a shrug of his own, if just to drive the point home by providing a comparison gesture.

"If you can't hear him, then everything we could do to prove it is going to be indirect evidence. Believe me, I'd love it if you could hear him. He's an absolute whiz at Jeopardy!, for starters. Look, I don't believe it either. Random chemicals should've melted him, not turned him into Superdog, but here we are."

He looks around the apartment for inspiration toward some sort of experiment that will provide some proof. "Okay, how about this? You think of something about you that only you and I would know. On this piece of paper, write four possible answers to a question about that thing in the corners. Ask Rocky the question and let him point to the right answer. Only way he'd know is if I communicated the answer to him, right? I won't even look at him."

Lang digs up a piece of paper from the pile (to no one's surprise, Lang has been preapproved for a credit card!) and grabs a pen from the table, offering it over to Alicia. "I swear, I can communicate with him telepathically. I'm not making it up, and I haven't been hit over the head."

"Recently."

"Today."

Alicia rolls her eyes. "Let me make this perfectly clear, Lang. I am only doing this out of scientific curiosity. I don’t believe you for one second and when you finally reveal that this is all some big dumb elaborate prank, I better not hear ‘I told you so.’ Got it?" She takes the paper and pen and starts to write several multiple choice answers. She gives Rocky a suspicious glance before turning her back to him so he can’t see what she’s writing.

‘What the point of that? She’s going to show it to me when she finishes.’

She finishes and kneels down next to Rocky. You crane your neck so you can see the answers she’s written.

A. St. Louis
B. Crowfall
C. Poughkeepsie
D. Portland

"Where was I born?" Alica asks Rocky. It seems like a simple enough question, but you know she put in a little trick. Alicia was raised in Poughkeepsie but she was born in Portland. Her family moved when she was just six weeks old.

Rocky wastes no time putting the paw over Portland once you think the correct answer at him. Alicia leans back and gives the dog an incredulous look before turning to you. She looks to be both in disbelief and angry about it. You have no doubt that she still thinks you are playing a joke on her. Rocky seems to pick up on it as well.

‘Maine or Oregon?’ Rocky asks you. You let him know it is actually Missouri. Another little trick on Alicia’s part. She most likely thought you only remembered the state and would falsely have said St. Louis. How this would have proved Rocky wasn't telepathic, you're not sure. It seems to be more of a test on your ability to pay attention.

Rocky paws at Alicia’s leg to get her attention. Once he has it, Rocky uses his paw on the carpet to trace out the MO abbreviation for Missouri. When Alicia realizes what he is doing her hand raises to cover her shocked expression and she falls flat on her butt.

A true scientist, Alicia devises several more tests to confirm the results before finally admitting that you might not be joking. Between the tests you order the pizza and before long you are all gathered in the kitchen eating. Pizza for the humans and dry food for Rocky. He is less than thrilled about that.

"This is crazy," Alicia repeats for the 100th time tonight. "Wait... you said the plans had changed. What are you thinking of doing with Rocky?"

‘I don’t think she is going to like hearing this one bit, boss.’