Excerpt: The Economics of Mad Scientism

“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. As you may have gathered, I’m not Dr. Gherkin.” There was some tittering. “I’m a bit younger, less bald and generally less respected man about town. Now, you with the spotlight. Could you just turn that down a little, please? It’s very bright up here. Yes, down. Down… Yes, thank you. Much better.” He gazed around the hall until he spotted what he was looking for: Veri sitting in her wheelchair against one of the walls. How she’d ended up here he didn’t know. He sighed and began to speak again. “Yes, I do apologise that the esteemed gentleman couldn’t be here tonight to accept in person, but due to circumstances beyond his control, namely being knocked out with sleeping gas outside the venue an hour ago, he couldn’t attend.” The crowd tittered again. “Yes, unfortunate really that I had to do that to him, but-” The main doors to the hall burst open and the dishevelled form of Gherkin stumbled though.
“Arrest that man!” Dr Gherkin’s cracking voice cried out as he stumbled over a couple of unfortunately placed chairs. There were stunned gasps as they watched their would-be twice-honoured doctor hit the ground like a sack of potatoes.
“And here he is! What prescient timing! Ladies, gentlemen, I give you the man I knocked unconscious an hour ago. A pitiful creature if ever I saw one, a cretin of the highest order! Dr. Putzface Gherkin!” The Professor began to clap, but was the only one who did so.
“Arrest him! That man!” Gherkin continued as he staggered up and from table to table under the sounds of falling crockery and exclamations.
“Y’know,” The Professor continued casually as the casino’s uniformed security guards began to swarm into the hall and towards the podium, “I was asked just recently what it is I do. Professionally, that is. Well, I’ll tell you that while it’s not the main thrust of my role, but in my job I’m required to laugh.” And he let forth a peal of maniacal laughter that boomed and echoed throughout the room. Then, he reached into a pocket and drew out a canister, which he threw to the ground with force, and it exploded into a huge ball of smoke that enveloped him and covered the stage.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” his voice thundered out. “On behalf of The Academy of Mad Scientism, I, Professor Alfred Cuthbert, bid you adieu! Tip your waiter!”
Every light in the building then briefly turned bright as the sun before exploding in a shower of sparks, plunging them all into darkness.