The Belgian Capybara

They want me to make glass? Oh, I’ll make them glass…the most powerful, unbreakable glass in the world.

Except that’s what they actually want me to do, so…drat. I need to find some other way to thwart the higher-ups, without compromising on my genius or drive to succeed. I could never intentionally do a bad job. Maybe I’ll be able to wangle it so that each pane of glass reveals terrible insults when it gets steamed up.

…it’s just not diabolical enough. Besides, what if my technology gets used in the art of glass balustrading? No one’s ever going to see it. Balustrading glass is thick and not liable to become misty or foggy.

Why am I even doing this? I used to be a highly-respected scientist within the society of extremely exciting scientific geniuses. People used to come from miles around to hear my keynote speeches at the underground gatherings of future scientists, where I’d propose grand ideas like turning everyone’s waste into fuel instead of going to a treatment plant. My idea about ice-cream secretly being a health food that is made with vegetables instead of sugar.

Now I’m making balustrading. That’s not to say that working with glass isn’t important or anything. It’s a big adjustment for me to be working for the betterment of mankind instead of my own selfish projects. I suppose my work on molecular bonding is legendary. Every single glazier in Melbourne, (in the whole world really) could benefit from my creations; panes that never crack or break, glass that never fogs up and is self-cleaning. Huge pieces of glass that can stretch from the floor to the ceiling of a two-storey home and retain their integrity.

Of course, I’d planned to use it all for the purposes of creating a gigantic submarine made entirely of indestructible glass, from which I could travel the undersea world and explore it’s depths.

It’s not to be.