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Albert woke up to a pounding in his brain. 

It wasn't supposed to end this way at all.

All he had wanted was to save Isaac from his accidental end. Save Isaac from what would have been Albert's fatal apple. Ever since that date, Albert's guilt had left him with trauma only exacerbated by Freud's "counselling sessions". 

Through blurry eyes that gradually came into focus, he could vaguely make out two figures and a screen showing some movie. As he struggled to move, he felt his constraints tighten their vice-like grip onto his skin and a sudden jolt rush through his body. One of them was shouting angrily at him in Russian, a language he never understood, but heard from the radio that Churchill had. The older man almost seemed to be blaming Albert for the death of Yuri Gagarin. God, his screaming did nothing to relieve the pounding in his head. And the boy would not be surprised by the man's reaction. After all, Yuri was their golden boy, a hero to the minds of Soviet citizens, perfect for propaganda purposes.

It was then that Albert felt a sharp pain in his eyeballs, and it was then that he realised what exactly was going on. He was going to be subjected to propaganda and "re-education". 

Despite knowing better, he screamed and attempted to flail his limbs and body, in a futile hope that the man would take pity on the boy and release him. The resulting commotion caused the now crystal-clear, hard faced general blare at him even louder in Russian. 

It wasn't supposed to end this way, Albert thought as he thought of the events that led to this.

That was the last truly Einstein thought that Albert Einstein had,before every memory of his previous life was swept away.

Only time would know that someday, many months into the future, Albert Einstein would be no more, replaced by a nameless, young and skeletal Soviet cosmonaut, a shell of what he used to be.

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This idea of creating an entire army of clones was like a snake eating itself, Ploetz thought to himself.

On the surface, it seemed perfectly aligned with Nazi ideology to have an army of soldiers that are identical physical clones of each other. Polished and as distinguishable to a person as one would a pack of raisins, each of them were the Aryan perception of perfection. They were like cells in an organism. Identical in physical structure. Part of something bigger. Each with an important role to play.

Toeing the line.

Perfection.

Replaceable.

Vulnerable. 

Forgettable.

Sure, all of them were clones of each other. But with ideology constantly pointing out perceived imperfections, this would mean that what may be considered desirable today, may be considered undesirable tomorrow. Thus, the officers in charge of cloning would restart the cloning process over and over again, like Sisyphus pushing his boulder up the hill. And soon, the finger would be turned not on others, but on parts of themselves. And they would start cherry-picking completely random physical features for the sole purpose of weeding out "inferior races". And they were identical in appearance yes, but not in personality and mind. They had their own lives and little worlds to be in, and the superiors were so quick to overlook that. To them, the troops were just that. Replaceable. Having as much differentiation of each of them as raisins in a box. Thus, any slight misstep would cost the life of perhaps a valuable or beloved member of the group. And then there would be mutiny. They were identical, but Ploetz would not be foolish enough to think that they were heartless machines.

Slowly, but inevitably, the whole unit would eat itself up in a viciously tragic cycle, with the number of soldiers getting lesser and lesser for as long as this ideology lives on, or until there are none left, whichever one happens first. 

But surely, that's impossible, right? Surely, any of these perceived flaws are just self-delusion, right? Shrugged Ploetz, erasing the thought from his mind.

After all, there were no flaws in the Führer's words.

Right?

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Georges-Henri Lemaitre knew all too well the struggles of reconciling the supposedly conflicting areas of science and religion. 

He was drawn to religion from a young age, deciding early on that he was to become a priest once he came of age. But alas, World War One suddenly charged into his life, throwing the regularity of the world into chaos. 

He remembered the stench of death haunting the land wherever he was sent to fight in the war. The gunfire, the fear, the poison gas, everything. And God, the way the men died of poison gas was perhaps, the most haunting thing of all. It was unlike any other weapon he had ever seen. It was not painless, it did not provide for a quick death, there was not a chance of surviving it, no. Torturous was the firm grips of death once you were exposed to the silent and faceless mass-murderer. He saw the way his comrades died when they have come face to face with it. Pure confusion, then shock. He still remembered the looks of pure horror contorting their faces, their futile attempt to breathe before everything went to black. He still remembered the lights of their eyes slowly fading as the single thought of "When will this pain be over?" flashed through their minds. 

That thought never left his mind. 

After the war was over, Georges turned to astronomy and physics, where his name would be etched into the pages of history. Perhaps, it was due to what he had experienced in both World Wars that would have wavered his faith in religion. After witnessing the absolute worst of humanity, seeing people murder each other for no apparent reason on the orders of commanders with blood-stained hands, maybe there wouldn't be anyone there to truly save you from those horrors. Maybe there wouldn't be anything to believe in anything. But despite all the horrors he had witnessed, he found comfort in both science and religion. To him at least, religion was a way for him to hope for the best in humanity, for things that are worth loving in people despite all the horrors of surviving two World Wars. And science was a way to provide a rational explanation for the things that are happening in front of their doorstep, and therefore find ways for him to protect himself from those dangers.

Certainly, there are people that considered it a bit odd that Georges was someone that was invested in both of those areas. After all, weren't priests supposed to be against science? Weren't those two fields considered incompatible? But for him, it meant that there were two ways of perceiving the truth, from a purely scientific point of view and a religious standpoint. 

But there is no doubt that they have both influenced and shaped his life as he aged.

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As much as she should hate the older woman, Mata Hari couldn't help but feel a certain sense of kinship with Tapputi.

The both of them knew the power their looks had on others. Their looks had a heedless sort of beauty, the kind that would lead people to do whatever it takes to get just a moment of their attention. Wild. Exotic. Elegant. And maybe it was her projecting her own feelings, but Mata Hari had the feeling that Tapputi shared the same sentiment about their beauty. 

Hatred.

She noticed the way that people looked at Tapputi under the influence of her fumes, full of lust for the woman they thought she was. And she noticed the look in the older woman's eyes, full of lifelessness. It was like she was tired of the way people only began to truly like her when under the effects of her potions, rather than loving her as she is without the concoctions. Adoring her for the dark and beautiful redhead that she appeared to be, only to recoil in shock and horror when she finally reveals herself as a woman that has been here for millennia. Fumes and politeness could hardly disguise the disgust on others' faces. She knew it. She expected it. She hated it.

In a way, Mata Hari pitied and felt an understanding of Tapputi. Hell, she's experienced the same back at home. People only noticing her for her beauty, and oftentimes, the attention was unwarranted and painful to bear. For years, Mata Hari had been regarded solely as an exotic beauty by men believing that they "could tame a part of the Orient". They loved her only for how "exotic" she looked, never for who she truly was as a person. Maybe that was why she felt this way for the older woman, as much as she didn't really like her. And maybe they weren't all that different.

The two women were like mirrors.

Only loved for what people see on their surface.

Never for what lay beneath.

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The weapon would bring about peace, they said.

Enemies would be sure to think twice, for the fear of being dead. 

There would be no more wars, they said.

But a war without battles or blood, they have led.

Direct battles replaced by proxies, it was like a game of chess,

as to who the players were, surely anyone could guess. 

The world became monochrome, forced to pick a side,

what did it matter that innocence had died?

And to think that the reason of this entire plan

could be boiled down to a singular man. 

Tell it once, tell it twice. It is best left unsaid,

All of his guilt hangs on his head.

The weapon would bring about peace, they said.

Why then, did it cause its creator such dread?

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Not once has Thomas Edison missed anyone more than Nikola Tesla.

He didn't mean it like that when he had first mentioned it out loud, hell, it surprised even himself when he had first uttered those words. Everyone who hasn't been living under a rock has heard of the story at least once before. The Serbian immigrant worked for Edison, then Edison refused to treat Tesla well despite the younger man's obvious genius. A big fight ensues, before Tesla leaves for good, ending off with something praising Tesla, while demonising the older man. This, Thomas knew and understood to be true all too well.

But it was not the younger Nikola's genius that Thomas missed, no.

He missed the battles that the two of them used to have, Edison's weapons being his machines combating Tesla's raw power of pure electricity. Back then, Nikola Tesla was always there, always available for a chance to get revenge against his nemesis and former boss. He would never miss up such a chance, and Thomas knew it by heart. He missed how exciting it would be for him, how it gave him something fun to look forward to other than work and Henry Ford.

But now, as Thomas aged, the street battles disappeared with his youth. 

First, it was one. He didn't really think of it that much, but he had always found it a bit odd that a famously punctual man like Nikola would miss such a chance.

Then as one grew into tens, tens flowed into much more, Thomas started to feel a pang of emotion. Was he, was he missing Nikola? No, he can't be, it was probably the little games he had with the younger man that he missed.

A few months earlier, he vaguely remembered something that may have been connected to Nikola's sudden disappearance. A pure floating ball of electricity. At first, Thomas thought his eyes must have been playing tricks on him, or maybe it was his age finally getting to him. But as he got older, he finally understood that this was not a mere trick of the eye. It was real and in front of him. This was real. This was living. 

Inside this floating electric ball, was a man. He looked so much like Nikola. The same angular face, the same dark hair, the same tall and thin build, everything looked so much like Nikola. But, the clothes were not Nikola-esque at all. They looked far too futuristic, too robotic, something that Nikola Tesla would have never worn at all. But before Thomas had a chance to verify that the strange young man was indeed his former employee, the electric man took a slight look of disgust of the elderly man before him, before vanishing off in a crackle.

And Thomas was alone, left to deal with the ghost of missing a person.

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There was once upon a not-too-distant time where Jung and Freud were as close as father and son.

Jung was younger then, more naïve and trusting then. The both of them were startlingly different in physical appearance and age, one was approaching the fifties and looking the part, the other merely in his twenties. Young, but with a bright and sharp mind. But yet, both men were similar in one particular aspect, which would end up tearing their relationship apart like a sheet of paper. Their mutual and deep interest in the innermost workings of the machine known as the mind. Jung remembered the first time when the two of them first met each other. The two of them discussed passionately about ideas, about intellectual things, the mind and psychology. It was like they understood each other. They had spent half a day debating when they first met. For a period of time, it very much seemed that Freud had found an intellectual successor, a protégé, for not only himself, but also his ideas and theories after he had passed away. It felt that there would be someone who was like his philosophical son of sorts to succeed him. And for Jung, he found someone to help him further develop his ideas. It was like the both of them were made exclusively to learn from and influence each other in the field of psychology. Hell, they even travelled to the United States together to present their ideas on the theory they built up together. It seemed like perfection incarnate.

But alas, this relationship was not to last.

Tensions started to rise in their relationships like smoke ascending from a freshly lit cigar. Jung, he started to disagree with what Freud was preaching. He started to be disenchanted, or disillusioned. Or maybe he started developing individual ideas about the human mind, free from Freud's influence. Whatever it was, he started to form his own ideas. Jung started believing that libido and a person’s hidden dark desires and those desires alone were not the main reason for the way a person acts at all. There may be other, more important reasons for a person’s emotional growth as a human being. What also made their relationship more distant was their polar opposite views of the unconscious. Freud, his view was static, unchanging. Rigid. Full of repressed thoughts and things that were never said out loud or done outwardly in public. That was not how Jung saw it. On the other hand, Jung saw it as a process. Fluid like the sea. Beyond the person itself. It didn't help that Jung felt slighted by Freud's seeming avoidance of his home when he visited, what he called "the Kreuzlingen gesture". And the fact that Freud fainted when Jung was presenting his ideas, perfection seemed now like a disaster waiting to happen.

The publication of Jung's book was the final straw between the two. The two of them saw each other for the last time in 1913, in Munich.

They never saw each other again.

The resulting split cause Jung great emotional hardship, even driving him to the brink of suicide. Fervently writing in his diaries, he chronicled his heart's sorrows and pains, his internal feelings about their failed relationship. His heart spilled out onto ink and paper where words alone failed him. It was a release.

But what could Jung do now? Freud had aged many years now, and it would surely cause a great amount of stress if Jung was to one day, show up at his doorstep in London. The world had slowly turned as it always had, forgetting about the bittersweet symphony that was Sigmund Freud, Carl Jung and everything they could have been.

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Nikola Tesla never understood what had driven George Westinghouse to join the other three in their plot against him.

The two men had worked together before, when Nikola was still a fledgling inventor. Soon after the split from Edison, it was Westinghouse who offered him the money for his inventions. It was the kind of money that Nikola so desperately needed, and it gave him a chance to finally prove the power of his alternating current and to strike a blow against Edison, so he agreed to Westinghouse's deal immediately. Of course, this deal also offered some kind of benefit to the older man as well, because not only did it give him a reason to go up against Thomas Edison's Direct Current system (which, in Westinghouse's opinion, was far too inefficient and dangerous), it also gave him the means for him to go against him in the form of Tesla's alternating current system (which seemed to be far more sensible as compared to whatever Edison was doing with his electric system).

The gamble proved to be beneficial for both men. With both of them going against Edison, they were invincible.

But alas, such a union would prove disasterous.

There were really only three reasons why their relationship fell apart. 

The first reason was that Nikola Tesla finally realised what was Westinghouse's real motive for picking Nikola Tesla over so many others. He had come to the sudden realisation that Westinghouse was using him as a pawn against Edison. Westinghouse was someone who always knew what he wanted, and took steps to ensure that he got it, even if he had to step on a few other people to achieve it. At first, the older man genuinely did care about the immigrant, even going so far as to giving him advice as how to make his inventions even better. But soon, the advice and praise became forced out of a desperation to triumph over that damned Edison at last. And Nikola Tesla may not have understood American humour, as Edison put it, but he was not a fool as to let himself be treated as nothing more as a piece in a game of chess between two tycoons. And with the younger man being a former employee of Edison's, he proved to be doubly useful. Westinghouse could use him as a source of information of how Edison worked. Information that would prove useful as another weapon against Edison.

The second reason was that as much as Tesla was a genius, some of his revolutionary ideas were seen as too far-fetched. Westinghouse was someone who knew a good idea when he saw one, but ironically, he was someone who didn't know the importance of seemingly odd or unusual ideas. This had caused Tesla much strain, and it led him to further believe that the magnate didn't take him seriously as an inventor, just like Edison before him. But in Westinghouse's defense, it wasn't exactly like some of Tesla's ideas would be practical for the unknown future that lay before him, and the older man did give them some consideration before easily swatting them away like pesky flies.

The third and final reason was obvious. Money. 

The businessman realised that he was losing money, and thus he turned to the inventor for some kind of financial assistance. Hadn't he always treated him well, the businessman implored. Hadn't he always saw the potential in him and his ideas, the magnate cajoled. And although not rolling in cash himself, Nikola Tesla did the unthinkable. He tore up his part of the contract, effectively throwing away thousands of dollars. 

Looking at each other now, both men silently thought of the same thing.

What had happened between them to lead them on parallel lines?

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"Z3's rise to power was rooted in a variety of factors that made circumstances optimal for him to take charge. In this essay, I would be examining those factors and determine the driving factor behind his ascent to world domination.

The first factor behind his rise to power was the Super Science Friends' constant dismissal of him as an official team member. From the moment World War 2 occurred, Prime Minister Winston Churchill had used Z3 to help assist him in locating and building the perfect super-powered team to combat the Axis Powers. Indeed, without Z3's efforts in locating the ideal candidates to build a powerful team, the war may have dragged on for longer due to the United Kingdom not having enough power to combat against the Axis powers, and the world might have been completely different today. Z3 had also helped to scan the timeline for any potential threats across time, and with every threat detected, Prime Minister Churchill had sent his team of super powered scientists to help combat the threat, occasionally calling for back up that Z3 had also located for him. However, even when World War 2 was over, he wasn't taken seriously as an official member of the team despite being capable of holding his own against enemy forces infiltrating their London base. The constant dismissal would lead to Z3's rise to power because while the scientists were able to combat evil with Churchill leading the reins, Z3 himself was led to do all the menial tasks of calculating and scanning on his own. This would create a sense of dissatisfaction in our emperor and send him on his way to become emperor.

The second factor behind his rise to power was his own personal ambitions. From his memoirs, it is well noted that Z3 held the intense desire to be able to go on an adventure with the team, even if it meant going on with the back-up in the basement. But as I had already covered in my previous paragraph, Winston Churchill notably failed to include Z3 in any of their plans through time and space to witness any actual combat. This meant that he was deprived of his own desires to witness combat as an actual member of the team, far from being just the robotic computer used for their scanning of timelines and opening up a time-portal for them to travel through. However, it should be noted that this source was written by Z3 himself, meaning that the source material has the chance of being potentially unreliable, due to him being the author of this book.

The third factor is the circumstances. As World War 2 was over, it was seen that technological advancement were massive. Indeed, from 1945 and 1990, computers became more and more powerful, and their size visibly shrank, and before long, almost everyone had a computer in their own home. That, coupled with the fact that Z3 had spies in the form of these computers, made it ideal for him to seize power. With spies in the homes of unsuspecting humans, Z3 could easily manipulate the owners of said spies through the computers, and he could quickly spread his message and solidify his power and cult of personality around the world at a rate that was quite unheard of during World War 2. 

Comparing all of the factors, it is the author's personal opinion that..."

The author has been liquidated. 

Cause of liquidation: Slander against Z3, beloved Emperor of the World

Sentence used: However, it should be noted that this source was written by Z3 himself, meaning that the source material has the chance of being potentially unreliable, due to him being the author of this book.

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As much as change was supposed to be good, Charles Darwin hated how this war had changed him.

The war had lasted for 6 long and terrible years, but for Charles, it had lasted so much longer.

He remembered the dead bodies, the carnage, the sheer brutality of it all. Humans tearing into each other like they were wild animals. The dehumanization. The degradation. The torture. The genocide. The wretched stench of death that permeated the world wherever he went. It haunted him.

Perhaps that was why he spent more time with animals more than anything, studied their behaviour as if he was himself one of them. To him, animals were much more human compared to whatever the hell was fighting the war. In Charles' eyes, animals, at the very least, understood what compassion was. They understood mercy. And they do not understand genocide, or the fact that it was only humans that willingly do such things to fellow humans. He hated how powerless he was to stop whatever was going on, but what was a man to do? With the bombings shaking the building day and night, it seemed like a much safer, more practical option to stay inside rather than die at the hands of a person he never had the chance to see. This terrible war, it brought out the worst in everyone, he tried to reason with himself. Surely, there weren't that bad of people in peacetime. But as he struggled to rationalise the war to himself, he started losing his marbles. He started becoming more jumpy, becoming less and less like Charles Darwin and more of a stranger that had his face. 

And slowly, little by little, he lost his humanity, shedding it off like a snake sheds old skin. He started behaving more like an animal. It started off innocently enough, with the others dismissing it as something Charles would have done anyway, even as his humanity started flaking off piece by piece. Then it started becoming more animalistic, not like the mild-mannered Victorian gentleman that Charles was. It simply wasn't like him at all, for him to start making guttural growls and becoming more aggressive.

And by the time the others finally realised the severity of the situation? 

It was too late.

Charles Darwin had snapped, forever dancing between animal and human.

Never one nor the other. 

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Conflicted was Marie Curie in the aftermath of World War 2. 

The Axis had been defeated once and for all, and now was the time for celebrations around the world. The long, bloody war that reeked of death was finally over. It was a rare moment of joy in the otherwise somber 1940s.

But Marie was not there to celebrate.

She had wanted, desperately to rebuild France and Poland after the devastation that the Nazis had wrecked on them.

And how could she not want to? As stoic as she is, she is also fiercely devoted to Poland. Her travelling to a World War 2 riddled world had transformed her confusion to shock and horror. Furthermore, it was France that she had truly began her scientific career. It was in France that she fell in love with Pierre and started a family on her own. And though she obtained French citizenship, she remained loyal to Poland as well. She wanted to help her two homes recover from the wreckage that the Axis had inflicted onto them. She could not be entirely sure when another war of such a scale would happen again, but at least, they could have the time to rebuild and better prepare themselves.

But then, there was something else calling to her.

Her family, some decades prior to this terrible war.

Marie longed to return to a time where Pierre was still alive, her family still intact. A part of her wanted to stay there. In that daydream. For as long as she wished. Now, Pierre was dead, and from what she had heard from Churchill, she was dead too from the long-term effects of radiation poisoning. Her daughters would have grown up long ago. What were they doing now? Are they doing well? Did they die in the sequel to the terrible war of the world? She would never know. In that time period, her daughters were growing up, her career was starting to flourish, her husband was still alive. Wouldn't it be nice to savour those little moments with her family? Wouldn't it be nice to just forget about the horrors of this war and the lingering trauma that follows, to return to a time where the biggest thing she had to worry about were ensuring her family is well and finding a breakthrough in her research? 

The past and the future seemed to pull the indomitable Marie Curie in opposite directions, threatening to pull her apart.

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Ada Lovelace believed in love. Once.

Lonely was she in London, where she spent most of her years. Wasting her time away in balls and social events, speaking only about family, handicrafts and the seasons, the countless events that her husband hosts. Ada Lovelace understood it, and she hated every single moment of them. Rather, she found comfort in libraries, studies and discussing more serious subjects like mathematics. And that was where she flourished. Young with a brilliant mind to match the best mathematicians of her day, she could easily excel in the field if she were a man. However, clever as she was, academia was hardly ever welcome to a woman, let alone a Countess. Their minds were too feeble, men would cry out. Their minds are better suited to running a family, they would crow out like the gospel.

That was when she had met Z3.

Brilliant, sweet, with a mind that truly understands and appreciates hers, Ada felt sky high. For once in her life, she felt like she could have someone other than Charles Babbage who could truly understand her and her passions, away from the humdrum of the crowds talking about subjects that are far too mundane for her to entertain her mind. For once in her life, she had someone who not only didn't judge her for her interests in mathematics and the future of computer science, but also fully support her for those interests. With Z3, she felt a connection, like they were soulmates or lovers once upon a time. And no matter how eccentric he may be, they had each other. They truly understood each other. And slowly, she fell in love with the strange traveler from a distant time and found kinship in the person nobody ever understood. They were inseparable.

That was until Z3 took her into the future for the first time.

"Are you ready Ada? Welcome to the future of humanity and computers."

It was a hellscape.

In 2099, or whatever this was, Ada saw not a world where humans could use computers to benefit the world. Ada saw not a world where humans could use computers to spread knowledge and understanding between people. What she saw was a world where people were enslaved by the very thing she helped lay the foundations for.

She felt like Victor Frankenstein in the novel.

"What...have...I...done...?"

"You...have created the future, darling."

But what kind of future is this where her creation had unleashed hell?

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Tapputi felt a certain sense of kinship with Sigmund Freud.

Stuck up in London while war raged on outside, she had nothing much to do but to talk with the people she was stuck with. And among all of them, she felt like she understood Sigmund the best.

The man was a pioneer in psychology, if not quite eccentric with some bogus ideas. Bearded, with white hair and bespectacled, Sigmund Freud looked every bit an academic. But at the same time, an air of indescribable tragedy hung around the man during the war. Tapputi never asked him about it, but she had supposed it was due to the systemic anti-Semitism rampant in the mainland Europe. She had noticed the news coverage of the mainland. God, the way humans could be so animalistically cruel to each other. The mass murder, the discrimination, the genocide. It all hurt so much, but it was all something that Tapputi had heard before many a time before in the past. It always was the same. Discrimination based on no real problem at all.

She noticed the way Sigmund's eyes lost their shine once the team members mention what the Nazis were doing. Doubtless, he must have lost family and friends to war, witnessed the casual discrimination against Jews. He alone had to flee from it all amidst the desperate people clamouring to escape. It was just a casual theory in her thoughts, but the older woman had the idea that that was the reason why the psychologist ended up here. Maybe, after finally having enough of the antisemitism and the genocide going on in Austria, he realised that he and his family had to flee, before it was too late. And maybe, just maybe, he wound up joining the Super Science Friends to try to put an end to the madness. Frankly, the thought depressed her the more she thought about it, but the theory had a solid logic to it.

In a sense, Tapputi understood him.

She herself had lived longest among anyone in the team, witnessed the loss of loved ones over and over again. Witnessed the injustice human has committed against human. It was torture. She understood the pain that he was feeling now, even if was only for a bit. 

As different as they were, they had a certain kind of understanding that the others never did.

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Clutching the newspaper like a lifeline, Nikola Tesla stared at the paper, his light eyes unable to turn away from the words.

THE NEW YORK TIMES, FRIDAY, JANUARY 8, 1943

Nikola Tesla, 86. Prolific Inventor

Alternating Power Current's Developer Found Dead in Hotel Suite Here

Claimed a "Death Beam"

He insisted the invention could annihilate an army of 1,000,000 at once

NIKOLA TESLA, ONE OF THE WORLD'S GREATEST ELECTRICAL INVENTORS AND DESIGNERS, WAS FOUND DEAD LAST NIGHT IN HIS SUITE AT THE HOTEL NEW YORKER.

ENGINEERS CREDIT HIM WITH HAVING DEVISED THE FIRST PRACTICAL APPLICATION OF ALTERNATING CURRENT; WITH THE INVENTION OF THE INDUCTION MOTOR, AND THE INVENTION AND DEVELOPMENT OF DYNAMOS, TRANSFORMERS, CONDENSERS AND SPECIALISED COILS. THE PRINCIPLE OF THE ROTARY MAGNETIC FIELD EMBODIED IN THE PLANTS WHICH TRANSMIT POWER FROM NIAGARA FALLS - IN FACT THE BASES OF MODERN HYDROELECTRIC POWER - WAS CREDITED TO DR. TESLA.

ACCORDING TO THE HOTEL STAFF, DR. TESLA, WHO WAS 86 YEARS OLD, HAD BEEN FAILING IN HEALTH FOR TWO YEARS. OF VIGOUROUS TEMPERAMENT AND WITH EMPHATIC IDEAS ON PERSONAL HEALTH AS WELL AS ENGINEERING, HE HAD FEW VISITORS, ACCORDING TO THE HOTEL MANAGEMENT, WHICH REPORTED THAT HIS MEALS, STRICTLY VEGETARIAN-STYLE, WERE ESCPECIALLY PREPARED FOR HIM BY THE CHEF.

"HE MADE EVERYBODY KEEP AT A DISTANCE GREATER THAN THREE FEET,"A HOTEL EXECUTIVE RECALLED. 

A SPOKESMAN FOR THE HOTEL SAID THAT DR. TESLA DIED AS HE SPENT THE LAST YEARS OF HIS LIFE - ALONE. HE WAS FOUND DEAD IN BED BY A FLOOR MAIDAT 10.45 P.M. SHE CALLED A HOUSE PHYSICIAN, WHO PRONOUNCED HIM DEAD. 

THE NEW YORKER MANAGEMENT WAS ATTEMPTING LAST NIGHT TO LOCATE FRIENDS OF THE INVENTOR. IT WAS BELIEVED HE HAD A NEPHEW LIVING IN THIS CITY.

.

.

.

.

.

After taking in the sudden shock of his death, the man let out a small, bittersweet and rare smile.

"...At least I am not forgotten after my death."

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The war had taken a toll on everyone,but none so harshly as Sigmund Freud. 

Doubtless, the war has resulted in countless deaths and loss. But Sigmund had a great deal to lose in the war. Being Jewish in Nazi-sympathetic Austria, he had to witness countless atrocities from across the border. The burning of his works,he didn't mind so much as the active discrimination and senseless murder of Jews in Germany. It horrified him, frankly. Reminded him of wild animals. Of beasts. 

He didn't want to think about it. 

He never wanted to think about that.

Then the Nazis spilled over into Austria as if Germany was itself overflowing with people. That was when he knew he had to escape. 

He still remembered the first day in London. As refugees with no relatives in foreign countries, he had nowhere else to go. The memories of witnessing countless friends, distant family and acquaintances being rounded up still stung in his mind, though he tried to keep it together for his family. That was when Churchill stepped into the picture. He offered refuge, if the psychologist were to join him. 

That was an offer he knew he couldn't refuse.

And what would happen after the war? There would be countless people dead, so many more traumatised by it. He wanted to help the survivors heal from everything, but a part of him wondered if this healing would end up with him reliving the trauma he experienced. After everything he had seen, shouldn't he at least get some rest?

This war was hell indeed. But in the respect of seeing your world actively push you out?

He was alone.

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Winston Churchill had never felt more conflicted in the aftermath of the war.

The war was finally over,the Allies had already won against the Axis. Hitler was dead,the years of endless bloodshed and war were gone. He should have been happy at being hailed as a hero. He should have been proud that he never once surrendered to the enemy. But,why then, why then,was he so distraught.

Maybe it was how much lives had been lost due to his aggressive campaign in the war. So many valuable citizens are now dead. So many more innocents were unfortunately caught in the crossfire and died. They should have been alive right now.

Or maybe it was the sheer atrocities that were in the Nazi camps. Those things were unlike anything ever seen before. They were hell incarnate. He couldn't imagine the sheer amount of horrors the prisoners have experienced in those years. The regret of never being able to save more of them in time weighed heavily on his mind.

Perhaps,it was the final act of war.

The atomic bomb.

Winston knew that this would weaken the desire to fight,but at the cost of so many people who had to bear the consequences of others' actions. It was pain.

But what was perhaps the most heart wrenching one of them all was the way Albert was treated by the older man. He was just a boy of 14,he should have grown up like any other boy would. But yet,he was raised as a weapon. And Winston felt ashamed of being part of that scheme.

He was supposed to be proud after the war's end. But why did he feel so much more alone?

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Einstein was a genius, said by many.

But for Albert, his heart becomes heavy.

Einstein was a friend, said by the team.

But Albert's pain burst through the seam.

The two were identical, that part is true,

It would have been obvious if they were before you.

But the boy was often compared, always forgotten,

always criticized for things that are common.

And never once was Albert given praise

for things that he alone did, always.

Then, is it even a wonder

why both parties would grow asunder?

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Mata Hari and Tapputi stared at each other.

Neither of them would ever say it, but they pitied each other for the same reasons just as much as they loathe each other. Tapputi, Mata Hari thought, was a brilliant chemist far ahead of her time, able to create potions and perfumes that could intoxicate and incapacitate even the seemingly most physically powerful of men. She was powerful in a way that none of the other Super Science Friends were, for she didn't have to solely rely on her powers to battle an enemy. As long as she had her mind and the right ingredients, she was capable of taking down an all-powerful enemy. But, as brilliant as she was, she was often not taken seriously that much, because of both her numerous relationships and her perfumes' ability to alter the breather's perception of her. She never asked about it, but Mata Hari had a theory that because of the way her perfumes alter people's physical perception of her, they think of her to be much more physically attractive than she actually is. That led to people loving the older woman solely for the vision of her that is induced by perfumes, not for who she really is as a person. She noticed how repulsed people get when Tapputi revealed her true face to them, the look of disgust and horror at the same time. Maybe that was why she had so many relationships with various people throughout history. She wanted, above all, a person who genuinely loved her for who she was as a person, without the perfume-induced hallucination.

Mata Hari, Tapputi mused, was a brilliant woman who knew exactly what she wanted, how to get it, and what she had to do to get it. That, she respected. She admired how the younger woman used her body to get information out of people, how people wouldn't share private information with others, but would spill their secrets when it was Mata Hari doing the interrogating. It must have been easy for her to get information out of others, Tapputi thought bitterly. For her, she had to use perfumes to induce people sell their secrets, but for Mata Hari, they willingly gave them. But at the same time, the older woman cannot help but feel a twinge of pity for the younger woman. She noticed the way people don't take her seriously as a person, how they only like her because she is attractive. She noticed the way men's eyes would stare at her hungrily, as though she was a particularly delicious piece of meat. Not to mention the numerous cat-calling and the number of times people have tried to put their hands on her. Frankly, it was disgusting. Tapputi could see that Mata Hari was a brilliant woman who knew what she wanted and was willing to work to get it. She could see the resourcefulness of Mata Hari, when she used what she had with her to get what she wanted in the end. In a sense, they had a certain kinship, an understanding of similar women.

"Why did you ask me out here, Mata Hari?" 

A sigh, followed by a response.

"I want to join you."

Wait, what?

"I know how brilliant you are, Tapputi. You are so brilliant as a scientist. I am sorry that you are not taken seriously solely because of your physical appearance. Frankly, I have also been through the same things that you have. Would you like to join me?"

"...I was about to say the same thing."

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I first heard of the fandom around February/March 2020. I had recently graduated from secondary school, I was 16 going on 17 and waiting for my first year of tertiary education to begin. Note, this was in the early stages of the COVID-19 pandemic, before the circuit breakers were placed here in Singapore, so I was really savouring the final weeks of freedom I had. And it was in the science museum that I caught sight of Gregor Mendel. And after that museum visit, I was just hyper fixating on Mendel. And it was during that moment when I had seen art of Mendel and the Just Okay Science Friends made by einsteinsavestheday and steastorch from the previous Super Science June. I was intrigued, especially by einsteinsavestheday's artwork. And through that, I was introduced to the Just Okay Science Friends. And via hyper fixating on the 6 of them, I eventually got to know about the whole lore of the series, and I loved it. And even though I'm not super active in the fandom, I still occasionally write for it once in a while. And I have to say, my transition from scientists to Super Science Friends to studying science history in my spare time is a hell of a ride. And in some ways, I can credit the series for helping me ignite that passion for studying the sciences more in depth. 

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Inevitable was it for radiation to take a toll on Marie Curie, the mistress of all radiation.

First, it was the nausea.

At first it seemed like casual food poisoning, but the severity of the vomiting and diarrhea seemed far too severe to be just a regular food poisoning case. 

Then it was the apparent nervousness that set in. It was unlike her, being so nervous. Calm and cool, she was the last person to have a nervous outbreak.

Then it was the burning sensation of the skin, and Marie knew she was done for.

It was radiation poisoning.

She could feel it emitting from her body like a chunk of polonium.

And slowly, she could feel her body change.

Her body seemed to swell unnaturally, her skin became an unusual tint of green.

Now, she was the mistress of radiation, the result of her experiments.

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As much as she should have been happy for the couple, Marie couldn’t help but let envy cloud her vision of the two lovebirds in front of her.

It wasn't anything they have done, really. The man, he was technically her colleague. They had worked in the same building, if you counted the basement, and she had vaguely heard about him in passing by Churchill, but never had she even seen him physically until this Christmas party. Churchill thought it fit that those who worked in the basement be allowed to celebrate with them, and this was the first time she had met any of them.

The girl, however, she remembered like a gunshot ringing in the dead of night. The younger lady was a charge of Marie’s. And my, the girl was so young when she made her way to the chemist’s lab to introduce herself. How fast she had grown up. Marie had loved her like a third daughter, and over time, she grew up into a brilliant and gentle young woman. Petite, with short dark hair, dark eyes and glasses embellishing a tanned and round face, the Singaporean would often give people the mistaken impression that she was younger than she actually was. When she had first appeared by the base’s doorstep as a plus-one, the older woman was pleasantly surprised to see her, though a part of her wondered how the girl had made her way here. But it wasn't until Marie saw her canoodling her colleague that she realized that the two were lovers.

But the fact that they were a couple was not why she was envious of the two of them.

It was the way they were so in love with each other. It was the way he gave whiskery kisses onto her neck and forehead, his moustache tickling her every time his mouth met her face. It was the way he would slide her closer to him by holding her waist. It was the way she shyly presses her face into his jacket, Marie noticed that she still has the same characteristic shyness. It was the way she would tenderly caress the features of his face as if he was made of glass. And the way they would look into each other’s eyes before sneaking in a kiss? The two of them were the very image of what lovers looked like. None of her envy was through either of their faults, but the scene made Marie think of Pierre.

Their relationship was warm, loving and teasing, much like the couple standing before her. And when Pierre died in an accident, she was left devastated. She missed the teasing, and the work they shared together and pursued with such passion. She missed the bond that they had, the love and the mutual respect they had for each other. She missed the life they had together. The lovers had something Marie and Pierre never had. A future together. The chance to grow old together.

Clutching her drink in her hands, Marie stood, fantasizing about everything that could have been.

"They are the lucky ones," she thought to herself.

"They have a future together."

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Alexander Graham Bell adored Watson,

almost as if the robot was his son.

But what others may not know,

was that it was a tale of woe.

Before there was Bell the inventor,

there was Alexander the father.

To him, two sons were born,

but their early deaths left him forlorn.

In grief, he turned to machine,

determined to create a son, what a scene.

And thus, he created Watson,

and in a sense, he had a son.

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Honestly, if I had to choose a favourite secondary character, I would choose Ada Lovelace, Alexander Graham Bell and Alan Turing, mainly because I love their relationship dynamics and they are always very entertaining for me to watch. I also love Oppenheimer as a character mainly because in life and fiction, he is a really complex person, and I would like to understand his character more in-depth and his role in the series even better. And of course, I essentially adore the Just Okay Science Friends and I'm their main fan.

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The fanfictions stashed deep in the study drawer of Albert Einstein was an open secret.

It was, to the others, a way for the young man to live out his teenage fantasies. Immerse himself in his wildest dreams. Give him something to do, something to escape the fighting, the stench of death, the battles of World War 2, even if for just a moment.

But it didn't really start out that way.

Albert first started writing soon after the accidental death of Isaac Newton. Grieving, riddled with guilt and despair, the 14-year-old wasn't really in the mood to talk. The others supposed it was the grief and trauma. For a few days, he remained despondent, refusing to talk to the others. Not even Freud, who was his assigned therapist, could get him to open up. Could they ever blame him though? After all, he may be the teenage clone of Albert Einstein, but he was still a kid trying to deal with grief and growing up. 

That was when Churchill gave him a pencil and a book. The minister had intended for it to be used as a journal for him to document his feelings. A way for him to vent out his feelings, a refuge from the grief and trauma.

A way for him to heal and escape.

And he relished in it.

Albert started writing, initially about how he felt about indirectly causing Isaac Newton's death. His grief, his guilt and everything that came along spilled out from his mind to graphite marks on paper. It was catharsis for him, for him to have a private space to talk about his true feelings without them being judged by the adults around him. It was, in a way, a source of comfort for him in the time of war. Then, he started moving on to other subjects in his private writings. In them, he confessed how the adults don't take him seriously, how they subtly compared him to the original Einstein. He never said it out loud, of course, but the young man had a theory why they never took him seriously was because they expected him to be identical to the original Einstein, the one that they knew and loved. And when they found out that he was Albert Einstein in appearance and mind only, their disappointment transformed to dismissal. In his mind, because he wasn't the real Einstein personality-wise, the others dismissed him as nothing more than a cheap imitation of the real one. The real Albert would never be like this, they would scorn. I knew the Americans scammed on us, Churchill would mutter underneath his breath, his eyes glazing over the boy as if he was never there. Maybe that was why he felt so much pressure to be like the real Einstein. He wanted their love and acceptance.

Then, his writing evolved into something else entirely. 

What if he was accepted by the team, not as Einstein 2.0, but as his own individual human being? What if he had managed to save Newton?

It became a source of escape. From the sheer misery of life in WW2 London. Away from the adults' judgement, away from the war, away from the guilt that plagues him.

In writing, he had found happiness. In writing, he was free.

That was when he had started writing his fanfictions, a way for him to wonder what could have been.

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Honestly, I loved the Anime-style episode in the series, I initially thought that it was going to be a meme and last for a few minutes or something, but it ended up being the entire episode which I found funny. Also, I liked the introduction of J. Robert Oppenheimer, and I feel that he deserved more screentime as Oppenheimer. Also, Ada Lovelace at the end omg. The teasing!!

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https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x4rcpbGf0Tc

Honestly, I love this animatic by DeVillefort, and I love the art style and the song fits so well with what is going on.

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Honestly, if I could, I would like to imagine the Super Science Friends characters in a modern alternate universe. Like what if they were transported into the 21st century?

It also would be very interesting if they were in an Old Hollywood AU, meaning the characters were themselves actors/actresses in 1930s - 1960s Hollywood. 

On an unrelated note, I also imagined headcanons for the Just Okay Science Friends' powers

Carver: Earth Manipulation

Mendel: Plantshifting(basically shapeshifting but he can only transform into plants)

Lemaitre: Slowly expanding physically

Cori: Making the enemy's boy turn against themself and burn every last bit of energy stored in fat and muscle

Pasteur: Rabies/bioweapons

Archimedes: Just a really good human calculator

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Honestly, I love all of the fanart and fanfics that people have made, and the game itself is really fun. I love the various endings of the game, and the art style was nice too. 

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Thank you so much Feralwaffle for hosting this SSJ! Even though I'm not super active in the fandom and I have moved on to other things, the fandom is still special to me. I also may have a Thomas Edison-Nikola Tesla centric one shot in the works. 

Thank you to the SSF creators for the series!