It was hardly fair.
Dr. Septonius Nightfall was perfectly aware that the ability to have the underwear of any number of humans begin growing poison ivy while they’re wearing it would not be fatal to most adults. Or most anyone.
But people really should have taken her more seriously.
It took her decades of research to perfect the nanobots which had absorbed poison ivy DNA, remodelled it after their own infinitely-changeable selves, and gave them an insatiable craving for underwear. It took years alone to define ‘underwear’ in such a way that the nanites could understand it.
But now they hungered for it. They craved it.
The good Doctor had sent warnings to every major world leader. They all laughed at her.
Then they began to itch.
It’s probable that this is the moment at which she made her critical mistake. As someone who didn’t wear underwear, she didn’t realize that the infernal itching would be quite so disabling. She thought it would be torturous; but those with the poison-ivy’d lingerie had only one though: getting the underwear off. And that it would not do; the nanites, being small enough to flit between the worlds of material and flesh, married the underwear, the ivy, and the skin together.
All of the major world leaders were incapacitated.
All of the ones under them thought this would be a great time to seize power.
It WAS.
Except that, having gone unanswered for 36 hours, not really knowing what was going on, the good Doctor threw her hands in the air and said, “If I can’t ransom the World, I’ll destroy it!”
She exaggerated.
The world isn’t destroyed.
*scratch scratch SCRATCH SCRATCH SCRATCH*
…we only wish it was.
We’d give her all our money. All of everyone’s money. If we could only tell her. But she’s alone in her underground lair, and her phone isn’t ringing.
Because everyone is busy scratching. REALLY busy. No-one is eating. Cars are crashing, planes are making emergency landings, boats are floating far off-course, the secret spaceships hovering around the Earth are full of space aliens who are getting increasingly angry and increasingly *SCRATCH SCRATCH SCRATCH* annoyed by the minute.
The Doctor is brilliant. But she actually doesn’t have an antidote. Someone finally managed to get a call through to her, offering her billions if she’d only reverse what she’d done.
She’d been up for 38 hours and was far too frustrated to work. “No!” she said. “I’ve got a ton of canned goods and a secret underground bunker. YOU can scratch; I’ll stay here in comfort.”
So she did.
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Sure, you know that I just finished “A Goblincore Guide To Life”, but did you know that I finished The Dark Lord trilogy recently? You did?? GET OUT OF MY SKULL, YOU BRAIN-SUCKING-MONSTER! …er, I mean…news travels fast.
Anyway, you might want to try George Orwell: Three Treacheries — Jeff Mach Writes.
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