"I love it when a scam comes together." âThatâs funny, I donât see your name hereâ¦â the man said, checking some paperwork at the desk. âYeah that is funny; I bet Amir raped it off of there or something. Listen, thatâs not important anyway. Iâve got a better story now: 'Particle Acceleration Turns All Men into Rape Aficionados.' Good headline, eh?â âJesus, no! Listen, Iâll take you on a tour myself. Show you around the place. Itâs really quite an amazing facility, and Iâm sure youâll see that advanced physics is not at all a rape-friendly field. Unlike those god-forsaken marine biologists. Come on.â He led me gently by the arm to the elevators, and we descended downward into the guts of the accelerator.
"I'm so glad I went to six years of college so I could GIVE IT TO THIS SLUTTY JELLYFISH." - Every Marine Biologist âWhatâs this thingy, Vince?â I grabbed what is scientifically classified as a "gizmo" off the table and tossed it casually from hand to hand. âItâs Vance and- oh god! Put that down!â He frantically rushed over and stole my science doowacky. âWhat? Is that important or something?â âYes, itâs incredibly important! All of the equipment here is terribly sensitive and just astoundingly expensive. Please refrain from touching anything. Also, we do frown on smoking on the premises. You really shouldnât smoke more than four cigarettes at a time, anyway. Would you mind putting some of them out?â âIâd love to, Vaughn, but I wonât be doing that at all. Ever. Thereâs this little thing called âjournalistic immunity.â Maybe youâve heard of it? Your laws donât apply to me,â I answered, striding purposefully down the nearest random hallway. I once read that itâs important to maintain control in new social encounters, and the best way to do it is to subtly steer the course of conversation. So I started taking wild, random turns throughout the complex while I talked. Just, you know... just steering the hell out of that conversation. âNo, youâre thinking of diplomatic immunity,â Vance replied, struggling to keep up.
Pictured: The second greatest journalist ever. âYeah, that. Itâs like that, but better. Anyway,â I continued, absent-mindedly juggling a couple of doo-dads, âletâs collide us some hard-ons, eh?â âYes, ha ha. Weâre all quite familiar with that joke here,â Virgil desperately seized the science thingamajigs from their thrown orbits and replaced them in the various machines I had ripped them out of along the way. âJoke? What joke?â âYouâ¦what magazine did you say you worked for?â He began to eye me, for the first time, with suspicion. I was hurt. I expected this kind of treatment from nuns, police officers, children, the elderly, full-sighted women and Puerto Ricans, but not Viktor! âUnpopular Mechanics,â I said, choking back tears and some pills. âUnpopular Mechanics?â He repeated skeptically. âYeah, itâs like Popular Mechanics but we cover the loser science. You know, like the really fat, stupid robots and that gay stuff with the numbers.â I took two quick lefts, ducked under a pipe and climbed a short ladder. As long as I kept talking quickly enough, Vance was too distracted to protest.