Time Mishaps

𝕻𝖆𝖗𝖙 𝕺𝖓𝖊

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Cling, cling!

 Vuiioooouuumm...

 The sounds of tinkering echoed from the middle of the room.

The room was cluttered with pieces of technology and tools. A box of tangled wires rested on the shelf with its boxed companions of broken parts of holograms, newly advanced devices, and batteries all lined up both neatly and carelessly. Three long, tall rows of storage shelves lined up against one wall with a ladder propped up against the middle shelf. The ladder had little dents, scratches, and some wear to it, just like the other pieces of furniture in the room. While some boxes stocked there were beaten, used, and with tape to hold the shape, some weren't even touched, the dust beginning to form on top of them. Tech collectables were exhibited on the top three shelves, ranging from new communication gadgets to hovering snack compartments, which were turned off at the moment except for one that was next to the only living thing in the room.

The opposing wall had floating shelves, displaying previous—yet failed—projects on one side and a couple rows of hooks on the other. One project was an attempt to create diamonds from water. Another was a pair of devices that were programmed to teleport small objects to each other. And of course there was a bigger, very much broken, version of that made to teleport larger objects or, ideally, people.

Clearly, that test did not end very well.

Hanging from the hooks were lab coats, thick cables, baggage of different sizes, and even a depressing fake plant, which looked like it was a real one that was neglected for a year. Perhaps it was.

Originally, the floor had white tiles, but now, if one walks in, they would have never thought the grayish brown floor with scratches and burnt spots used to be pearl white. With tools of all sorts sprawled across the floor and a box laying on its side exposing all of its spilled contents, the room was a hoarder's dream room.

The slightly swaying LED lamp, which was just a light bulb, flickered from time to time above the mad scientist furiously working on his project. In the center of all the madness, the man straightened his bent posture and popped his knuckles and back. His lab coat was stained and his hair disheveled. He reached up to his coat pocket and pulled out a half-eaten pouch of caffeine boost. It was what he was practically living off of for the past couple months of finalizing his project: plain coffee grains. The scientist pressed a few square buttons on one of the machine's panels. The machine was about the size of one's forearm, and it had a touch-screen dome on the top, allowing for setting adjustments.

Suddenly, the light bulb glitched before shutting down, blackening the room. A few sparks rained down from the broken lamp. 

"Dangit," the scientist barely mumbled, the tired voice being one of the effects of long, sleepless nights—the first being the harsh eye bags hanging from his strained eyes. Just a moment after, a quivering light quietly glowed. The dark blue machine with white linings running along the edges hummed to life. The soft light was radiating from the reflective touch-screen dome, revealing the tiny dust particles floating in the air. The scientist's exhausted expression melted away into one of utter shock, relief, pride, and happiness all mixed together.

He tore his limpid face shield off and flung it onto a group of stacked boxes. "Is it working...?"

As if responding, the machine rumbled quietly, not breaking into parts like its previous attempts.