Tommie Lyn

The Perfect Invention

Convenience has its price...

Dr. Halsen naddled the joystick to the left and zoomed his scompter into the classroom. He was late. Again. A couple of students glanced up, then resumed their conversations with friends in other classes.

He pressed the “Clear Station” button on his touch-screen console and was greeted with a cacophony of groans and protests as the chats of the students were interrupted. He then padged through a sequence of displays until his own smiling face appeared on the glowing screen and pressed “Replicate.”

“Good morning. I apologize for the delay. Now. Please call up padgster eighty-three and we’ll begin.”

The professor could have Replicated padgster eighty-three from his own control panel, but he thought self-reliance a worthy quality to instill in his students. Thirty-two students padged the requested screen onto their consoles and tried to settle themselves more comfortably on their scompter seats as Dr. Halsen began his lecture.

This select group counted themselves fortunate to have been hand-picked by the eccentric professor, and their reluctance to begin the class session was more a result of a pervasive, society-wide laziness than a resistance to the professor.

Dr. Halsen rarely taught in the classroom anymore. He had no need to do so. As inventor of the scompter, he had amassed wealth beyond imagining, and he was widely sought after as a guest speaker at various conventions, as an interviewee for sat-scomp news shows, even as a guest on entertainment shows. Sought after enough that his ego received the strokes he had come to require.

But, he told himself and others with a chuckle, he preferred to keep his hand on the joystick of learning as well as on the helm of his mega-national company, Scompters-R-Us. So, he usually taught a class on scompter theory each fall semester at nearby Halsen University.

“Now. Can anyone tell me what the scompter’s greatest contribution to our society has been? Anyone?” He surveyed the array of young faces before him, an expectant look on his face.

“Anyone?”

“Little legs and broad derrieres,” came an answer from the back of the room.

Dr. Halsen’s brow puckered into a frown. “What was that? Who said that?”

Silence.

“I want to know who said that!”

“I did,” said a timid voice.

“Raise yourself so I can see you!” Dr. Halsen thundered.

A faint buzz preceded the unfolding of a scompter’s rotors, then a slight whir announced the lifting of a scompter. As the young man rose above the crowd of students, the professor glared at him.

“Why would you say such a thing!”

“Because it’s true.”

“The scompter is acclaimed as the world’s greatest invention!” the professor shouted, swinging his arms widely in emphasis, his face growing red and perspiration beginning to shine on his forehead. “It has revolutionized personal transportation and communication! How dare you disrespect me and my invention--”

Dr. Halsen’s words broke off as his wild gesticulations tumbled him from his scompter seat and onto the floor.

After a few moments of silence, a meek voice spoke from the classroom floor, “Um, would someone help me stand so I can get back onto my scompter?”