The C.W.A. of Dr. Z. Smith: Episode 47: Hatshrooms

The Continuing Weekly adventures of Dr. Zachary Smith:

This Week:

Episode 47: Hatshrooms

Last week as you recall, Zachary Morton Smith, {Morton to his friends}  father of our own Dr. Zachary Smith, had climbed out of a hatch, on the other side of a tunnel which is only accessible through the trunk of his sons car.

"What is this place?" Morton said, to no one in particular. 

"It's my laboratory, Like it?"  Morton Yelled,  Dr. Smith had inadvertently snuck up behind him. "Zachary!  Don't do that!"  

     "Sorry dad."  

   "Where are we?"  Dr. Smith waved an arm in a magnanimous gesture, "Welcome to my Garage!"  "Did you say Garage?"  

    "And laboratory.  You didn't think I made all of my fantastic inventions in that tiny house, did you?" Morton nodded, it made sense.  "Well, where do you store your car?"  Dr. Smith shrugged.  "On the street, Everyone knows its my car, and I'm friends with the Mayor.  They also know that besides thievery, stealing my car is treason.  You get hung for that.  Here, let me give you the tour."  

As Dr. Smith walked off, Morton turned back to look at the hatch he had just climbed out of, it wasn't a hatch.  It was the rear end of a car identical to Dr. Smiths, but that was hard to tell for sure, as it was only the back third.

-=fig. 328: the back third=-

     Dr. Smith was explaining the volatile qualities of the espresso machine, and the benefits of standing well to the left of the steam nozzle to an empty patch of air, not that he knew it.

"Zachary?" said Morton, hurrying over, "Why are we a hundred feet in the air?"  "we're only 50 yards up, and besides, I need the room below for my hatshroom experiments." 

"Bless you."  

"No, Hat-Shroom, like mushroom?  I Figured out how to grow hats.  Right now they're only Mushrooms shaped like hats, but you can pop 'em off the stem and wear them just like your standard McAllister & Dobbins."  Morton Looked at Dr. Smith with a worried eye,  "Son, are you feeling all right?  Do I need to find you some medication?"   

"No, Dad, I did.  Look, right there, see?" Morton looked and saw several varieties of Hat, growing out of the ground.   

-=fig. 329: a specimen of a hatshroom=-

"Mon dieu.  Son you're brilliant."–Dr. Smith shrugged–"How come I haven't heard of this before?"   "James says the market isn't ready for a hat-shaped mushroom.  A mushroom-shaped hat, but not a Hat-shaped mushroom.  Come, there's more!"

There turned out not to be much more, there was an eating area right next to the Espresso machine, a platform with early incarnations of Jeeves, a record player with a wire connecting it to a white bulbous device,  {which turned out to be the Internal Motherboard Actuating Calculator, I.M.A.C., for short,} and a table with a half finished android on it.  "What's that?" Asked Morton, pointing.  "That's Jeeves, 2.0" Answered Dr. Smith proudly, "he's nearly finished.  I just need to Synthesize some skin for him, tailor some old clothes to fit, and transfer the old Jeeves Data over from version 1.0.  Speaking of which…" Dr. Smith put his small brown suitcase on the table, undid the clasps and locked it open. "Here, dad, this may take awhile. why don't you go get some coffee, or I'm sure if you look hard enough there's a snack" Morton had already wandered off,
"O.K. then." 

He then slid a robot out of his briefcase, this robot's name was Jeeves, and he was about 5 feet tall.  Dr. Smith then carefully positioned the robot in the center of the table, produced a cable from the suitcase and connected the two robots to each other, and then to the I.M.A.C.  He pressed the screen of the I.M.A.C. a couple of times, took a sip from his espresso mug, determined that it was ice cold, then, grasping his mug firmly in one hand, set off for the machine. 

-=-

The I.M.A.C. beeped merrily while Dr. Smith was gone,

"Beedlee Beep!"  It said.  "Now Transferring 1 of 43,789,001 files! Beedlee beep!"  

If it had a mouth the infernal thing would be smiling. 

"Beedlee Beep! Now Transferring 2 of 43,789,001 files! Beedlee Beep!"  

Dr. Smith came back about then with a piping hot cup of espresso.  "Boy that's annoying, lets turn that down."  As the sound went down, the I.M.A.C. decided that it needed to tell Dr. Smith the sound was going down. "POP pop pop pop…"  Dr. smith opened the 'iPhonograph' application, and the Record Player behind him sprang into a jaunty jazz tune,  'Bugle Call Rag' was its name.   Dr. Smith started to whistle the tune, 

if it had words he would have sung.

     Life was great, Dr. Smith was well on his way to locating the colors of Legopolis, he'd found Jeeves, and was loading him into his new body.   He'd found his father, relatively unharmed and living in the camp of the Northern Villains.  

-=-

It took quite awhile to transfer all those Files, but Dr. Smith made use of that time to catch up with his father, Morton.  It took so long they nearly ran out of records, which would be a tragedy.  But eventually the I.M.A.C. merrily said: "Beedlee Beep!  File transfer complete!  Jeeves 2.0 updated to latest firmware!  Would you like to restart now? Beedlee Beep!"  Dr. Smith pressed the button marked "Yes" and there was a brief moment of silence, and them a chime.
"Oh Boy, here we go, DAD!" Dr. Smith yelled, "Come here!"  Morton hurried up the ladder and across the catwalk just as Jeeves 2.0 was waking up.  "Oh dear," me murmured.
"Jeeves, Rise." commanded Dr. Smith.

-=fig. 330: Jeeves 2.0=-

     "Isn't he beautiful?" asked Dr. Smith.
"How Long have you been working on this?"
     "A couple of months now, off and on.  This is the future!"   Jeeves 2.0 adjusted his stance to accommodate for an uneven flooring tile.  "Jeeves, Speak." Commanded Dr. Smith.  "ALL RIGHT THEN.  HELLO SIR.  I SEE THE GARAGE IS IN GOOD HEALTH?"  "Jeeves, you are in an a new body,  if you'll notice, you now have two legs and a vocal simulator.  Use it."  There was brief pause, then Jeeves said:  "Far Be It My Place To Ask These Questions, But Where Did My Original Body Go?"
"Just behind you, I need you to sew up some clothes to fit you while I melt up some latex for your new skin. Oh, and stop enunciating so perfectly, real people don't talk like that."
"Very Goad Ser."

 -=-

Dr. Smith melted some shoe soles and latex gloves in a pot, stirred it around, and poured it into a mould.  Surprisingly what came out was a latex mask, perfectly suited to Jeeves' face.  "Jeeves, you done sewing up your new duds?"
"Yes, Sir."
"Right, put them on and come here, I've got a face for you." 

-=-

-=fig. 331: he needs a hat=-

"You look good Jeeves, Dad, what do you think?"  Morton Looked,

"He needs a hat.  Or hair." 

"Yes, well, I'm no good at hair, Jeeves go pick out a hatshrooom you like."
"Sir, I am robot.  I cannot 'choose something I like' as you say.  I could perhaps choose a hat based on current data about the status of men's fashion, but I do not have said data."  This was quite the problem, Dr. Smith didn't have the data either, not being one to follow trends, so he solved the problem.  "Hmm, well, lets see,  I think mainly what you need to do is match, so go pick out a black hatshroom, some kind of cap.  That should do it."  "Very good sir."  Jeeves then walked off the table, falling 150 feet, straight to the ground. "You know Jeeves,"  Dr. Smith called, "we do have a ladder."  "That's very good to hear sir, because if I have to do that again I may damage something."

-=fig. 332: sneaking up on a hat=-

Jeeves walked with both his legs.
He was enjoying having two legs,
He missed his rocket, though.
Maybe Dr. Smith could place rockets in these new legs?
Aha!  A black peaked cap…

{{use-#eyscan on-$Scenery}} * object-sighted *

if-$ObjectSighted=yes start-#Program1 #Program1-started

$ColorMatch=100%

#FootstepSound=50% start-#AttackJump, * adjust landing parameters * start-#TackleRoll 

{if $bodydamage=50%=abort.}

{{start-#AssessBodyDamage}}

$BodyDamage=5%

{{start-#AssessInventory}}

#Inventory=(1) #PeakedCap {Color=Black}

use-#Inventory=(1) #PeakedCap {Color=Black} on-#Headtop 

#Program1=complete

-=-

-=fig. 333: Something is off=-

Morton nodded his approval, The hat matched.
"The hat's a nice touch, but something's wrong.  I can't seem to put my finger on it."  They both searched Jeeves' face for what was off, it wasn't his eyebrows, they were both there, it wasn't his pupils, they matched, "I've figured it out."
"What is it Dad?"
"He doesn't blink. " And indeed that was the problem.
"Jeeves," ordered Dr. Smith, "Remember to blink periodically.  Other wise you will creep people out.  Good, that seems to solve all the technical difficulties we had, now down to business.  Jeeves, where are the Colours of Legopolis?"
"Well sir, last time I laid my eyes on them, they were in the basement of Putzkammer's delicatessen."

Join us next Week for our next Exciting Episode:

#48: Putzkammer

Every Tuesday at 4:10pm GMT

-=Best Regards=-

•

Sir Jacob D. Fredrickson Esq.

Chief Executive Officer of Early Bird Industries, Inc.

The C.W.A. of Dr. Z. Smith: Episdode 46: Побег из тюрьмы злодея Северный

The Continuing Weekly Adventures of Dr. Zachary Smith:

Episode 46: Побег из тюрьмы злодея Северный
{Escape from Northern Villain Jail}

Last Week as You Recall, Dr. Smith had, through a complicated series of events, found himself incarcerated in the jail cell of the northern villains.  This, normally, would stymie even the great mind of Dr. Zachary Smith,  "I'm Stymied" He'd say.  But luckily he doesn't need to say that.  Because besides his cell mate {the illustrious Captain James Brown, Mayor of The Grand City Of Legopolis, who isn't looking too good, owing to a large scar down his arm, and numerous {now patched} bullet-holes in his coat,} The guard is on Dr. Smith's side.  He is on Dr. Smith's side because he is Dr. Smith's own father, Zachary Morton Smith, who was kidnapped one day by the dastardly Northern Villains, scourge of the north.  Last week we left them just as Dr. Smith had discovered this fact…

-=fig. 323: Mortoninski=-

"Hey!  Dad!  Let us out if you're here to rescue us!"   "Right-o son."  He fit the key into the lock and wrenched open the door, releasing Dr. Smith and Capt. Brown from their snowy reform school. 

There was a brief embrace of father and son, "Dad!  It's so good see you again after all this time, and the kidnapping and everything.   You know James?"   "Of course I know James,  he's your only friend.  Hello James,  still neurotic is he?"  "Yes sir Morton, He's still completely deranged, brilliant, but deranged."   "You know I'm still standing right here?"  Dr. Smith's father, taking charge of the conversation, completely ignored Dr. Smith. "There will be time for more small talk later, right now we need to get out of here.  Here, I think there's a way out over here."   As they half-ran, half-trudged through the icy passages, a thought occurred to Dr. Smith, "Dad?"  "Hmn?" " If you knew a way out, why didn't you just leave a long time ago?"   "Transportation son, it's 200 miles of snow in every direction.  I Couldn't leave so I convinced them that I was Russian, like them, just so they wouldn't kill me.  It turned out pretty well, They made me a guard!   It's only probationary of course,  But it kept me alive long enough so that you could come here with that flying car of yours and get me out of here!"  He saw the expression on Dr. Smith's face, it was that of one who is either worried, or constipated.  "You did bring the car didn't you?"  "Well… Getting captured wasn't part if the plan, I think we'd settled on 'Plan: Marseilles' right James?–"  Capt. Brown, not wanting any of the blame spread to himself,  just nodded silently.   "–when quite by accident 'Plan: Budapest' happened."  Dr. Smith's father, Morton, thought to himself, then failing to remember anything about Budapest said "What happened in Budapest?"  "Well, James and I were minding our own business,  Buying–" "–Stealing–" interjected Capt. Brown, Dr. Smith continued "–Stealing fruit from the stalls along the main road, when 20, no, it was 200 Arabs, swaddled in black robes jumped out of nowhere and attacked us!"   "Because you were stealing fruit?"  "Yes."  They trudged in silence for awhile, "Zachary, Hungary is nowhere near Saudi Arabia,  Might these '200 Arabs, swaddled in black robes' have been a passel of policemen?"   It's quite hard to squirm and trudge at the same time but Dr. Smith managed it.  "The point is, 'Plan: Budapest'  has come to mean a sneak attack.  James and I were out on The Digger No. 5!  Trying to find you actually, when we got attacked by The Northern Villains, they shot me with a tranquilizer and tried to kill James here."  Capt. Brown piped up, as this seemed to be his part of the narrative, "Actually Zachary, I'm immune to Tranquilizer darts.  Thick skin,  Most of my body is covered in coats and such, so there weren't very many places they could shoot me, and I have an extremely slow metabolism."  Morton and Dr. Smith both looked at him in wonder, the question begged to be asked, so Dr. Smith did; "How'd you end up so scarred then if all they did was shoot you with a dart you're immune to?"   "After they failed to tranq' me, they boarded The Digger No. 5!, and what with all the spinning machinery Morton here put in the darn thing,  and my lack of a weapon, I couldn't properly engage the villain in battle. Most of these wounds are inflicted by  The Digger No. 5! itself."  As the absurdity of the situation sank in they turned what can only be described as a corner, and far off in the distance was a glimmer of daylight.  "Ah!"  Said Morton, "See Son, I told you there was a way out."  But Dr. Smith knew that without The Flying Jaguar, Dr. Smith's Flying car of renown, The way to the outside air held no escape for our hapless team.  "Dad, Could you tell me on this map where we are?" He had pulled a Map of the area out of his suitcase, and was attempting to unfold the wretched thing on a nearby handily flat piece of ice. Morton Pointed. "About here, son."  "How far out does the territory of the Northern Villains extend?"   "Hard to say son, but it goes at least as far as this ridge." Capt. Brown spoke up worriedly, "Zachary, I parked the car right there!  In a cave on the east side of that ridge!"   Dr. Smith smiled.  A rare occurrence, in itself, and one not to be risked, especially now, with  these freezing conditions as his mouth itself may freeze like that, and then where would he be? 
But It didn't freeze, and with his continued mouth-related articulation he said: "Dad?  Where do the Northern Villains keep their captured vehicles?"
-=-
It was dark and poorly lit in the Northern Villain garage.  You would think the Villains would like to actually see their stolen vehicles, but not in this case. 

-=fig. 324: The Flying Jaguar!=-

 Morton started to cross the vast, yet empty, space.  "Come Son, there's nothing to fear here!"  Dr. Smith quite suddenly halted that topic of conversation by pushing Morton into the snow-covered wall with his forearm. "Dad, That's what scares me."  Turns out he was right, the cavern was not as empty as it first seemed, all along the wall were guards, armed to the teeth.  And some, lacking teeth, were armed to the gums.  "James, I was thinking Plan: Marrakesh"  James scoffed, "Zachary, that'll never work. for one thing, where are we going to find an angry rhinoceros and twelve dancing girls out here?"  Dr. Smith shook his head, " I don't think they were crucial, I think we can work it with just the three of us.   James, how many guards can you take out with–"  He paused to check his suitcase "–A dissertation on the political situation in eastern japan during the 1830's, a spoon, a mug that says: "Latte's are for babies!", and a typewriter?"   "What about that sword of yours?" "Yes, well, I'm using that."  Morton Looked on in amazement.  "Things like this happen to you often?" he said.  "Oh yeah," Capt. Brown replied, "Just about every week, why do you ask?"  "It doesn't seem like you're very prepared, You know, It's only about 50 yards in front of us.  Why don't we just make a run for it?"  Capt. Brown looked at Morton incredulously,  "Because they'd shoot us before we got halfway there, and if, by some miracle, we did make it there in one piece, how do you suggest we get out of here? fly through the ceiling?  It's at least 20 feet of ice and snow!"  But Dr. Smith had that far-off look that he get's when he thinks.  "No, That's a good idea, we'll fly through the ceiling."  Capt. Brown and Morton, like some sort of barbershop duet, chorused "What?"  " I mean we can fly out of here, right through the ceiling.  We can use the heat shield.  We dash across on three, 1, 2, 3!"

-=fig. 325: mad dash=-

They ran as fast as you can in snow that is up to your knees and managed to make it to the car in one piece.  "Son?" Said Morton "Where do I sit?  This is a two-seater."  "Hop in the trunk, It turns into a seat. Okay James, you're driving, start 'er up."  "Son?"  "Yeah dad?" "Why is there a basement in your trunk?" Dr. Smith stopped pulling levers and pushing buttons seemingly at random for a moment to answer his father, "Oh.  That, Dad, I'll explain later, there should be a green lever back there, pull it,  and a seat should pop up."  Morton Pulled the lever, and a seat did indeed slide out, as smooth as orange marmalade.  Which is to say, not very smoothly at all.  "O.K. James, on the count of three you push your red button, I turn this red knob, you ready?" There was a nod of agreement "Dad you buckled up?"  "Yes!"  "Good, 1, 2, 3!"  The Flying Jaguar!  Was suddenly enveloped in a red glow, "Straight up James!"  Dr. Smith yelled over the drone of the heat shield, " Hurry! we can only keep this up for 15 seconds!"  as the 15 seconds ticked down, The Northern Villains fired their bullets, but they did no harm.  Because besides melting through frozen prisons, the heat shield can also melt through bullets, and the molten lead dripped harmlessly away from The Flying Jaguar!  "Ten seconds!"  They broke into the sunlight, barley scraping the 1 second mark.  If this were a film, about now a dramatic overture would be taking place.  But since this isn't a film, and I have no way of getting sound to you as you read these word, you will have to imagine it.   Think to yourselves, "Golly, what pretty music!" or words to that effect.  Dr. Smith popped his head up, "Everybody all right?" No one heard his words as the wind had whipped them away from anyone's ears. "JAMES! SLOW DOWN!"  Capt. Brown heard his words, and slowed down. That diminished the whipping wind noticeably.   Peals of nervous laughter broke out all over The Flying Jaguar!  As the relief of escaping from The Northern Villains  hit our passengers.  But Dr. Smith gets down to business. "Dad?  You have your fingers on the pulse of The Northern Villains, have they heard anything about Jeeves?"   "That butler we had when you were a child?  I think he died."  "No, Dad, A robotic butler, named Jeeves."  "He was a robot eh?  That would explain how efficiently he butled."  Dr. Smith shook his head, "No, Dad.  Let's look at this from a different angle.  Have there been any sudden temporal disturbances?  Sudden geographic changes?  Strange radio activity?"  Morton thought for a moment, "You know there is this one stretch of canyon all the border patrols complain of.  They Say their radios conk out whenever they are within ten seconds of it."  "Ah, that'll be Jeeves, doing whatever he can with his remaining power.  Co-ordinates?"  Morton gave them up almost instantly, his being a patent clerk before being adult-napped gave him quite the head for numbers.

-=fig. 325: flying toward jeeves=-

The Beautiful, frozen landscape unrolled before The Flying Jaguar! As if t'were a spilt iced cream, the lumps and bumps melting their way through your  heirloom Persian rug.
-=-
The Valley of the Robotic Butler was easily found, especially with Dr. Smith's patented H.E.I.S.T.™ Which scanned for Jeeves' unique frequency. {H.E.I.S.T.™  is not available in stores! call right now and we'll throw in FREE interstellar transporter FREE with your order!}
-=-
They Landed in The Valley of the Robotic Butler,  "You said that patrols come through here often?" Asked Capt. Brown  "No, they never come out into the air, they're on the other side of that wall usually." Morton answered, pointing to the south.  "But they try to avoid the area if they can because the interference nigh on explodes their eardrums."  Dr. Smith smiled again, "That would be Jeeves' 'Death Rattle' I'm quite proud of that actually,  It's based upon the same principle of that noise you get when your hold a RadioPhone [3gS]™up to some cheap gramophone loudspeakers, That annoying buzzing?  Robotic Death Rattle.  Jeeves broadcasts that on every possible frequency within about 2 miles and it serves the dual purpose of keeping people away from the 'body' and allowing me to find Jeeves and get him out of whatever trouble he's in."  Everyone stared at Dr. Smith.  "What?"  He said.  It's unfortunate that at times like these that there is no one in your audience willing to speak up, and admit that they haven't been listening to word you have said on account of their attention being focused on that evil-looking insect that has landed on the brim of your hat.  "AAAHHH!" Yelled Dr. Smith as the evil-looking insect succumbed to the cold, and fell to the ground inches from Dr. Smith's face.  everyone's eyes followed the insect to the ground "Why didn't anyone tell me there was a Vespula vulgaris on my hat!"  Quite suddenly the ground and various items of scenery became very interesting.   Before Dr. Smith could finish interrogating his father and only friend, a Robotic Death Rattle rang out in the canyon.  "Hey! That Sounded like Jeeves, Over there!" 
It was Jeeves.

-=fig. 326: jeeves in the snow=-

Jeeves, a robot, had been caught in the disastrous de-coloring of Legopolis, which was caused by the villainous Count Villiam Von TipRău, scourge of Transylvania.  Strangely, a loss of color affects robots more deeply than it does humans.  Color is tied almost directly to the soul, and humans, soulless as they may seem, can recover at any time.  Their recover may be assisted by a beautiful kite, or a certain type of fatty food, but Robots, with no desire to eat and no appreciation for beauty, only have as much soul as you put into the construction.  And once that's gone, that's it. In humans a lack of color is paralyzing, in robots, it's worse.  Oh they may function, but not nearly as as well as they did.  The individual pieces may work, but it would only be a machine.  "Oh dear," Said Dr. Smith "This is bad.  Where's my suitcase?" Dr. Smith pulled over his suitcase, it's a briefcase, really.  A small brown leather affair, with metal fittings, and a matching leather handle.   It was a bit worse for wear but wouldn't look out of place in the hand of the business man off to work. Dr. Smith latched it open.  "James help me put Jeeves in here."  Morton look on in awe, "It'll never fit in there!" He said, "The robot's got to be about three times as big as that tiny little suitcase!"  Dr. Smith held the small suitcase steady while Capt. Brown negotiated the robot in.  It was starting to look like Morton was right, and that Jeeves was, in fact, too big.  But that changed when Dr. Smith said:  "James, push a little harder, I think we've nearly got it."  Capt. Brown Pushed, and Jeeves was sucked into the Suitcase with a noise that can only be described as "SHLOOP!"  Dr. Smith turned to capt. Brown, "James, you take first watch, Dad & I are going in the trunk."  "What!?" Said Morton. Capt. Brown saluted.  "Relax Dad, I put in a ladder." They walked to the Trunk, Dr. Smith opened the trunk and pressed a red button, causing the seat to grind away, revealing a hole. "Alright Dad, what I want you to do is climb down the ladder, walk straight across the platform, don't go to the sides, and climb up the other ladder, can you do that?"  Morton nodded. "Good, it's gonna be pitch black, so be sure to walk straight across." Morton nodded, and climbed down. It was in fact, pitch black at the bottom of the ladder, there were strange noises to the left, and gurglings to the right. Morton walked straight across and at the other side was another ladder, with a lantern attached to a rung, five feet up.  This ladder was more slimy than the other one, but at least it was better lit.  The the top of the ladder was a hatch, Morton pushed it open and light streamed in, blinding him momentarily.  When he regained his sight, morton stepped out, onto a solid tiled catwalk. "What is this place?" He said.

Join us next week for our next exciting episode!

Episode 47: Hatshrooms
Same Time, Same Blog.
Tuesday 8:10 AM, right here on Save the croissants.com

-=Best Regards=-

•

Sir Jacob D. Fredrickson Esq.

Chief Executive Officer of Early Bird Industries, Inc.

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Sir Jacob D. Fredrickson Esq.

Chief Executive Officer of Early Bird Industries, Inc.

New Organizational Features

The Continuing Weekly adventures of Dr. Zachary Smith:     I Have just finished adding links to all the archived episodes of The Continuing Weekly adventures of Dr. Zachary Smith, now you can read it all the way from Episode #1, In The Beginning. to Episode #45 Zachary Morton Smith!  The link is down near the bottom.

-=Best Regards=-

•

Sir Jacob D. Fredrickson Esq.

Chief Executive Officer of Early Bird Industries, Inc.

The C.W.A. of Dr. Z. Smith: Episode 45: Zachary Morton Smith

The Continuing Weekly adventures of Dr. Zachary Smith, This weeks episode:

Episode 45: Zachary Morton Smith

Last Week as you recall, Dr. Zachary Smith had made a shocking discovery… 

"My father's here somewhere!" 

Dr. Smith's father was a patent clerk who had one day had a brilliant idea, The Digger No. 5!  A monster of a machine, built to harvest the miles of oil and natural resources beneath The Grand City Of Legopolis, home of hundreds.  But before he could test it the team he was working with was called away on an important mission, to gather information on a growing threat to The Grand City Of Legopolis, The Northern Villains.   If you believed the propaganda, The Northern Villains were the worst thing to happen to The Grand City Of Legopolis since processed cheese.   To counter such dissent among the people, the illustrious Captain James Brown, Mayor of The Grand City Of Legopolis, sent a crack team completely untrained into the wilds of the Frozen North,  This 'crack team' was the set of mechanics that were assigned to Dr. Smith's father to assist him in the construction of The Digger No. 5! This 'crack team' took up the moniker: the Secret Northern Observers and Watchers, S.N.O.W.  for short.  Completely untrained and frankly, unprepared they set off, with no plan other than to look good going, to reassure the populace that the illustrious Captain James Brown, Mayor of
The Grand City Of Legopolis had everything under control.  That was many years ago.  But luckily, whilst hot on the trail of Dr. Smith's robotic Butler, Jeeves, Dr. Smith, Capt. Brown and the L.C.R.P.  came across a chapter, a remnant, a remnant of a chapter, of S.N.O.W.  and were welcomed into their secret underground base.   Or should I say Undersnow?

-=fig. 320: sir we have a job for you=-

"Sir?  We have a job for you." said Dr. Smith to the Blue leader, whose name happened to be Frank.  "The name's Frank, Mr. Doctor Smith, at yer service."  Dr. Smith had long ago given up on trying to correct people who had somehow gotten it into their heads that his first name was 'Doctor'.
Which wasn't to say it didn't bother him. 
"Very good …Frank."  For Dr. Smith, using a person's first name is like calling them 'friend' or, god forbid, 'buddy'. neither of which are titles that he bestows easily.  To illustrate the point, Capt. Brown is Dr. Smith's only friend.  Not out of design, but more that Capt. Brown is the only person Dr. Smith has known long enough.  Long enough being most of his life. "…Frank. I'm sorry, I can't concentrate. what is your last name?"  Frank was affronted, "Well, it's Stathopoulos, but I thought we were all friends here–" "We're not.  Mr. Stathopoulos, I need you to tell me where Mr. Zachary Smith is, but you probably know him as 'Morton'." Frank started to look worried, "About yea high?  Perfectly Round glasses?  Hat like yours? I seem to remember that he always wore this…black Bow-Tie?" "You use the past tense.  Where is he?"   Frank squirmed.  "Gone, I'm afraid.  The Northern Villains took him."  Dr. Smith, who you'd expect to be the picture of fury, was unnaturally calm.  Always a worrying state, in anyone.   He started to chuckle softly.  Capt. Brown stepped in, "Don't worry about him frank, he's just gone past furious and is now coming out the other side.  Frank, I'm going to need you to tell me where Morton is before Zachary here comes around, because when he does you will be dead."  Frank took a quick, furtive glance at Dr. Smith, who was staring into the middle distance and chuckling softly.  "All right!  I'll tell you everything!  Just don't let him kill me!"  "I'll do the best I can Frank."  "Morton was abducted on a routine mission to the outer rim of our secured territory.  We had secured the land for The Grand City Of Legopolis, in the hopes that when you did come Capt. Brown you could start a new colony here, and we wouldn't be out here by ourselves.  All alone…" He was snapped out of his reverie by a sudden blow to the top of his head. "Right. Morton.  Well, we were out on that mission, just him and me, when The Northern Villains swooped!  Swooped!  Out of nowhere!  They had a cannon!  And Rifles!  Luckily I managed to get  The Digger No. 5!  Underground in a hurry,  but when I looked back to see how Morton was doing, he was gone."  "Thank you for your information."  "It's alright!  Just Don't let Zachary kill me!"  "Don't let him hear you call him Zachary, and you should be fine.  Thanks for the help." Capt. Brown gave Frank a friendly pat on the back, well, Capt. Brown thought it was friendly, at least.   From Franks perspective he was, quite suddenly, face down in the snow.  "Did you get all that Zachary?"  "Yes.  I have a plan." 
-=-
"Mr. Stathopoulo, I need you to take Capt. Brown and myself up to the surface, the spot where My Father was taken"  "Your father being who?" " Mr. Zachary Smith. Yea high?  Morton?"
-=-
The digger rumbled over the frozen land going at top speed, 

-=fig. 321: the digger no. 5! top speed:=-

Upwards of 12 miles per hour!  Dr. Smith was examining the craftsman ship of the safety rail, closely, and testing it's sturdiness.  With all his might, he was testing it's sturdiness.  Tightly.  Around him The Digger No. 5!'s  various mechanical parts rattled for all they were worth, spitting grease, and apparently {if the noise is any indicator} trying to kill each other.   It's no wonder The Northern Villains found The Digger No. 5!, It makes more noise than…a noisy thing.   Capt. brown came up behind Dr. Smith without him noticing, which wasn't hard.  "SO WHAT'S THE PLAN, ZACHARY?"  he tried to make himself heard over the din, "THE PLAN?" "YES, THE PLAN.  WHAT IS IT?" Dr. Smith thought for a second, " I WAS THINKING PARIS." Capt. Brown nearly fell off The Digger No. 5!, considering how they'd nearly died in Paris.  Several times. "I DON'T THINK PARIS IS THE PLAN WE NEED."  "NO, YOU'RE RIGHT.  WHAT DO YOU THINK OF MOSCOW?"  Capt. Brown went, I believe the expression is "green around the gills" at the mere thought of Moscow,  there had been a lot of falling.  And alligators. You would never think there were that many alligators in Russia.  "I DON'T THINK MOSCOW'S THE PLAN FOR THIS SITUATION."  " WHAT DO YOU SUGGEST THEN?"  "I LIKED RIO?"  They were both lost in reminisces of Rio De Janeiro in the spring, the warm weather, tropical climate, and the distinct lack of any way the tips of your fingers could freeze off.  "I LIKED RIO TOO, BUT THERE IS NO WAY WE COULD USE IT HERE."  It went on like this for awhile, but they really shouldn't have bothered because at that moment plan Budapest was put into effect, Plan Budapest consisted almost solely of being sneak attacked by the enemy.
 For Dr. Smith the world went dark. 
-=- 
Dr. Smith awoke in a cold, dark room.  The only light came from the far wall, where it came in in bars.  Whenever the light comes in in bars it usually spells one thing, cell.   Dr. Smith had arrived in one piece, relatively unscathed.   But Capt. Brown wasn't nearly so lucky, there were bullet holes in his coat and a long gash down one arm, which was bleeding profusely.  Capt. Brown was quite unfortunately awake, and sitting up.  "Hi Zachary.  My arm hurts.  I'm light headed,  and really tired. AHH! THE PAIN!" Dr. Smith rummaged around in his suitcase, "Ah, here, drink this."  He held out a small, purple vial, which Capt. Brown took in one gulp "ICK! What is this stu––ZZzzz…"  "Military grade anesthetic.  G'night, James."  Dr. Smith then set to work,  He hadn't had any formal medical training but you pick up a few things working with machines, mainly how to re-attach fingers using your wrong hand, the many and various wonders of fishing line, and how to treat third degree electrical burns.  And upholstery.  Upholstery is the key to medicine.  
-=-
When Capt. Brown woke up, {which was much, much later} his first words were: "Zachary?"  "Yes?"  "Why is my arm sewn up in fishing line?"  "Well, fishing line is smoother than regular string, which will make it easier to remove the stitches when the time comes." 
Capt. Brown just kept staring at his arm.  
"Oh."
Was all he said.  "Here, I patched up your coat,  there were quite few holes, my best guess is that either they shot at you, or there's a swarm of moths about here someplace."  The joke was lost on Capt. Brown whose humor seemed to have bled out through his arm.  A sense of humor is something you can't repair with fishing line.  
-=-
Our point of view goes out to the hallway of the cell block, where a change of the guards was happening.   This conversation happened entirely in Russian, but for our purposes it happened in italics.  "Here, I take over for you."   "The end of mine shift is not for another two hours yet."   "But this way, if I take your shift now, you can go home and spend two extra hours torturing poor cat of yours with violin."   "I do enjoy violin.  All right, you take mine shift, but do not let superior know I let you take two extra hour shift."   "Agreed mine comrade!" the old guard walked away, intent on practicing his violin at his cat.  The new guard walked down the hall and very purposefully took up roost outside cell #423, The Cell currently incarcerating Dr. Smith And Capt. Brown. 

-=fig.322: The new guard=-

"Here James, let me talk, I know a little Russian,  Hello mine comrade! release us for glory of communist empire?"   The new guard turned to Dr. Smith and said: "Come now Zachary, I taught you better Russian than that."  "Dad!"  "Hello Son."  "What are you doing here?"  "Rescuing you, of course."

Join us next week for our next exciting episode:

Episode 46: Побег из тюрьмы злодея Северный

{Escape from Northern Villain Jail}

Same time! Same blog. 

-=Best Regards=-

•

Sir Jacob D. Fredrickson Esq.

Chief Executive Officer of Early Bird Industries, Inc.

New Item!

Now At the Save the croissants store! 

A Think Different Mr. Einstein Mug!

"A Combination of Apple's "Think Different" campaign of the 90's with Einstein.

And pirates."

A Link to the Product!
> http://bit.ly/drAxkz <

-=Best Regards=-

•

Sir Jacob D. Fredrickson Esq.

Chief Executive Officer of Early Bird Industries, Inc.

Think Different Mr. Einstein

I had some fun making this picture.

It's Einstein.  With an apple eye-patch.

-=Best Regards=-

•

Sir Jacob D. Fredrickson Esq.

Chief Executive Officer of Early Bird Industries, Inc.

The C.W.A. of Dr. Z. Smith: Episdode 44: Upon the Matter of S.N.O.W.

Hello, and welcome to the latest installment of The Continuing Weekly Adventures Of Dr. Zachary Smith H.M.O., It's been awhile since I posted A Continuing Weekly adventure, mainly due to the theft of almost my entire operation.  I've done the best I can with what I could find, and I hope you enjoy;

The Continuing Weekly adventures of Dr. Zachary Smith:
Episode 44: Upon the Matter of S.N.O.W.

-=fig. 308: Away, from over the frozen ground=-

 Last series, as you recall, Dr. Smith, Capt. Brown & Company had set off, in search of  Dr. Smith's robotic butler, Jeeves.  For he is the only clue they have as to the whereabouts of the evil Count Villiam Von TipRău…

-=fig. 309: Can we Stop Soon?=-

"Can we stop soon?" Rings out a voice, from below. "We've been walking for days!  It's all right for you two, you've got a flying car!"  There were nods, and murmurs of dissent from the majority of the Legopolis City Rooftop Police, L.C.R.P., for short.  Capt. Brown, who was driving, took this message to heart, and called out the following order: "All Right ya wusses! We'll Pull over and make camp! what say you?"  There were general cheers, and hearty agreements. 

-=fig. 310: No Sign of him anywhere=-

As most of the team makes a fire to warm their frozen extremities, Dr. Smith walks to the edge of the  cave they had chosen as a prime camp area, and pulls out a strange device, quite a bit like binoculars.  He scans the area with it and mutters to himself, "Curse it! Not a sign of him anywhere." He sighs, and replaces the device in his briefcase.  "What was that?" asks Capt. Brown, who had come up behind Dr. Smith quite silently after being pushed out his seat near the fire by a lesser member of the L.C.R.P.  "Oh! Hello James,"–For this is his name–"It's a Homing Electronic Interference Scanning Telemeter." Capt. Brown took a moment to work out the acronym in his head. "Want me to tell you?" asks Dr. Smith, with a glint in his eye. "No, no, I'd like to work it out myself. H-E-I-S-T, Heist?  You named it Heist?" "Yep!" "Well what does it do?" Dr Smith explains, "It searches the area for a specific electronic signal, for example, Jeeves',  see I turn the dial here and–" Before he could finish his sentence the cave is filled with a terrific rumbling!  Dr. Smith, quick thinker that he is, stood still with his mouth open, while Capt. Brown, quick actor that he is, barked out orders. "CAVE IN! EVERYBODY OUT!" While everyone scrambles towards the cave entrance, our sight goes to the back wall, where something is breaking through.

-=fig. 311: a possible cave-in=-

As the machine finishes destroying the wall, we zoom to its roof, where a periscope is poking its way through the built up snow…

-=fig. 312: the periscope=-

We Move through said periscope, to see what the Watcher on the other side sees.

-=fig. 313: what the watcher sees=-

The Watcher sees,  The Watcher wonders, could it be?  The Watcher Decides. It is. The Watcher Swears,  The Watcher calls to his superior.   We Return to Dr. Smith.

-=fig. 314: is it safe yet?=-

"Is it safe yet?" asks Dr. Smith, warily.  Capt. Brown shakes his head, "I don't think so, wait here."  He then crawls on all fours back into the cave, Hoping to check the stability of the walls.  At the back wall, two blue figures are maneuvering their way through the hole created by the digging machine. 

-=fig. 315: two blue figures=-

The mustachioed one, quite obviously the superior, says to the grimier one, "You sure it was him?" the Grimier one replies, "Quite, sir. it could be no one else but Dr. Smith"  "Was anyone with him?"  "Captain Brown, Sir." "Ah, well if the Honorable Captain Brown is accompanying him, we must be cordial."
-=-
We return to Capt. Brown, as he makes his way to the back wall.  He catches sight of our two blue figures, and a smile breaks out on his nearly frozen face.  "Zachary!" He calls, quite obviously excited. "Zachary!  Come quick!"  By the time Dr. Smith gets there, Capt. Brown is shaking the hands of the blue men.  "Zachary!  Oh good, you made it.  This is S.N.O.W." Dr. Smith is slightly confused.   'Yes James, this is snow.  In case you haven't noticed, the whole country is snow around these parts.  Snow, and ice." Capt. Brown laughs.  "No Zachary! S.N.O.W.!  Secret Northern Observers and Watchers!  They're a recon team I sent up here into the frozen north ages ago!  I sent a regiment up here to check on you guys once and they never returned, I thought that S.N.O.W was dead."

-=fig. 316: shaking hands with S.N.O.W.=-

"I Assure you sir, we are quite alive." Says the mustachioed one, shaking Capt. Brown's hand.  "We kept your regiment, we needed the help in building our new base.  It's not much, but it's home."  "Well I would love to see it! " The two S.N.O.W. operatives share a quick glance, "Just You?"  Asks the mustachioed one.  "Well, If there's room I'd like to bring my police force." "Of Course!  Bring them along!  The more the merrier!" "And Dr. Smith here?" "Of Course!"
-=-
 It Takes awhile to mobilize a lot of people, and in a spare moment Dr. Smith was examining the digger the two S.N.O.W. operatives had used to so rudely intrude on the L.C.R.P. camp.

-=fig. 317: examining the digger=-

As Dr. Smith examined the machine, a small voice in the back of his head, an intern, if you will, in the grand multinational corporation that is Dr. Smith's brain, spoke up.  But it was such a small voice that Dr. Smith didn't even register it on anything other than a subconscious level.  The small voice Yelled, tried to make itself heard!  But it was no good.  All it did was leave Dr. Smith with the nagging feeling that he had forgotten something.  After awhile the team was ready to go, and go they did.  Through a complicated series of tunnels in the snow to the underground camp of S.N.O.W.
-=-
As Charles Wilhelm O'gre trudges along in the cold, wet, gloom, he contemplates life in general, how some folks are born warm-blooded, like Mr. Doctor Smith, and how some people, like himself, are born with a more silicon-based physiology.  One of the more interesting facts of the Ogre species is that their brains actually work better the colder they are.  So Mr. Charles Wilhelm O'gre's brain was practically whizzing along in this -50° snow-covered netherworld.  Whereas everyone else's brain was mainly focused on keeping their fingers from freezing off.  As he walked along enjoying the way his brain felt in his rocky head, he solved several math problems, decided that, in point if fact, both the Jacobski's and the Evolutionists are wrong, and that MiniFigures are actually manufactured in a factory, and that the chicken came first. But only after it was genetically engineered by aliens and imported to the planet.  As he was contemplating these deep thoughts that he would eventually forget once he warmed up, a crunch rang out from under his foot.  He looked down. It appeared to be a white pith helmet, but upon further inspection it turned out to be a man dressed all in white, embedded deep into the snow.  Charles, Ever the gentleman, picked the poor man up and asked him his name.

-=fig. 318: understandably frightened out of his mind=-

He was understandably frightened, as any sensible person would be, for you see, Ogres, besides thinking better in the cold, are huge. And they have no sense of personal space. The poor man was six feet off the ground, and inches from Mr. O'gre's terrifying, but well brushed, fangs.  Charles tried to look friendly. " 'oo are you then?"  The man just trembled.
There is nothing more terrifying than an Ogre trying to look friendly.  You can't smile without lips, and in Mr. O'gre's case he just managed to expose a lot of sharp teeth.  "eep!" Was all the poor fellow could get out.  "Well! 'ello then Mr. Eep! My name's Charles. Ha ha ha!"  If a a smiling Ogre's bad, A laughing Ogre's possibly worse. Why?  Because When an Ogre laughs you can see all the way down his throat.

It was at this point the poor chap passed out.
-=-
He awoke to a man in a brown fedora staring at him intently.

-=fig. 319: Doctor Smith=-

The Poor Man groaned. "It's all right, you just rest. " Dr. smith said in a whisper. "RELAX! YOU DIDN"T KILL 'IM CHARLES!" He yelled over his shoulder. "Oim intensely relieved Mr. Doctor Smith." Charles replied.  The stricken man spoke: "Что за чертовщина происходит?" "Ah, you speak Russian mine friend?" replied Dr. Smith, in Russian. "Why did monster to attack me?" Dr. Smith thought about this one. "I think it was all big missed understanding, what your name, mine friend?" "Podzemnyĭ zhitelʹ " "Well mister Podzemnyĭ zhitelʹ you just relax, I'm going to see why we've stopped."
As Dr. Smith climbed off the Digger, Capt. Brown intercepted him.  "I didn't know you spoke Russian Zachary." Capt. Brown said, in a low voice. "There's a lot you don't know about me James, like–" it was then that the small voice in Dr. Smith's mind made itself heard. "–Like My Dad Made!–"He fought to keep his voice low, as the excitement of finally remembering the tiny bit of information that had been bothering him all day engulfed him–" My father invented this machine!" Capt. Brown is understandably confused, and asks:  "Your father was an inventor too?" "No, No.  He was a patent clerk. But one day he had this brilliant idea, the higher-ups approved it, and off he went.  It was originally for mining for oil, but it got sent up with–" "S.N.O.W" Capt. brown interrupted, the dawn of recognition breaking over his face– "I sent S.N.O.W. with a digging machine, I Didn't know the inventor came with it though."  "He wanted to make sure it worked." Dr. Smith said, in an off hand way. "You Know what this means don't you James?" Dr. Smith said, suddenly intent, "Dad's up here someplace!" 


Join us next week for our next exciting episode:

Episode #45: Zachary Morton Smith

-=Best Regards=-

•

Sir Jacob D. Fredrickson Esq.

Chief Executive Officer of Early Bird Industries, Inc.

Series Two

We've been picked up for a Second Series! Tune in Tuesday, March 9th for a new episode of The Continuing Weekly Adventures Of Dr. Zachary Smith!  This week: Episode #44: Upon the Matter of S.N.O.W.

And to bulid up excitement, here is an exclusive wallpaper.

Only Three more days!  Tell your friends!

-=Best Regards=-

•

Sir Jacob D. Fredrickson Esq.

Chief Executive Officer of Early Bird Industries, Inc.

FAILED AD

I Don't click on ads.  Ever. I May watch them on television, or tolerate ENJOY! them on MacBreak weekly, but I don't click on them.  Also, I use a Mac, so this stupid ad, isn't going to work on me.

Stupid ad

This redirected me from my intended website, played a HELPFUL!!! WOMAN'S!!! VOICE!!! :-)!!! 

Informed me that I had just become eligible for a 1000$ WAL-MART GIFT CARD!!! 

And instructed me, nay forced me to click on the "Pop-Up window!!!" Especially since it looked like it was a window hovering over my desktop.  It almost had me, until I realized that the Pop-UP WiNdOW!!!  Was for a windows PC.

Quite a nice little FaKe PoP-Up WinDOW!!!,  If I used Windows {and was entirely stupid} I might think "Oh, a window popped up, I better press the close button.  But of course by then it's too late.

 

In case any of my windows using readers read this, always close your windows with a keyboard shortcut. 

And don't shop at Wal-Mart if you can help it.

EDIT: The real TWiT Twitter is here: http://twitter.com/twitlive
The Twitter link at Twit.tv goes here: http://twitter.com/twit

And I fell for it.

-=Best Regards=-

•

Sir Jacob D. Fredrickson Esq.

Chief Executive Officer of Early Bird Industries, Inc.