This story is like an italian soda without any whipped cream.
To my left is CERN Large Hadron Collider. Take a look, but not for long, no peaking behind the curtain! It is beautiful, right? The mountains are so clear. You thought I meant the LHC? That is underground where I lived with Maria and Mama. We pride ourselves in anomalies, oddities, rarities at CERN. My father, Papa was one of our experiments. My Papa was a geologist that collected every solid of the periodic table. He took me fishing every Sunday after church. He taught me how to drill holes in the ice on top of eerie lakes high in the mountains above CERN LHC.
When Papa lost his job at Alcoa, he began to drink, and often made me carry the rods, bait, and drill every hole for fishing. Apparently Papas memory began to fade more and more, time passed, and I went off to school to study programming. Every Sunday Papa went out, when I was studying java and ruby, he was drunken old man, aloof in nature. When I realized that Mama was wearing makeup for covering bruises on her face, I knew I could never trust Papa with her alone, so she moved in with my girlfriend Maria and me.
Last week Papa was found with a bottle of Stolichnaya, a fishing rod, and what the police initially thought was a pile of salt tablets. Everything froze, including Papa, except for the vodka and the salt that took on a luminous green color. The following night, the policeman and fisherman who found my father in his miserable fishing hole, were found dead. Their faces were covered in chemical burns and their hands were completely missing, seared at the wrists.
That night after the two men were found and I told my girlfriend Maria what happened and how I was complicit in the demise of my father but how I did not could not agree to the deaths of these two innocent men, Maria said she would tell her father the story. Everyone has heard of her father, a scandalous British journalist who was charged but not found guilty of trespassing and stealing documents from Britains David Cameron, eventually resulting with the parliamentary hearings that impeached Cameron. How could I trust a man like that? How could I go to you for help?
The substance that my colleagues and I used was a unique isotope found from ununnilium, a relatively useless radioactive element, but when isolated we found had fascinating properties that theoretically, through cold fusion, propel particles faster than light speed. The implications were astounding. Einstein was wrong. The downside is that the substance was extremely unstable. It leaked through three layers of what is essentially unbreakable material and killed one our leading physicists, Dr. Georges Flaubert, the man who hired me to work on abstractions and polymorphism for an overhaul on the Large Hadron Collider. I was doing a lot of pencil and paper work and requested work nearer to the LHC.
How did I have the time for cRPG? Try not to waste what little time I have left on silly questions. cRPG is wastebasket of thoughts and ideas that never reached fruition, a tiny mod for a player base that feeds off of fetishism. The work I did for CERN consisted of over one and a half million lines of code without repetition. The secret team that I was assigned to was under Flauberts direction. Since we could not figure out how to build something strong enough to contain our isotope, we focused on developing resistant radioactive genomes that we could use for CERN lab personnel.
I left Maria after she promised to take care of Mama and in Bruges I saw the headlines that reported the neutrino-anomaly saying CERN Lab read a faster-than-light particle event. Amazing stuff, less than a day after I left CERN, they reported these findings as happening before my Papa was chosen as a test subject. I knew almost certainly that these claims were a fabrication of those running CERN at the very top. Hell, if you looked hard enough you might even find a different cause-of-death for Flaubert, one that includes a hit list, assassins, and millions of dollars invested into proving the theory of relativity wrong. Imagine what the wealthy of the world could do with that.
I beg you not to worry about my safety, I have made contact with the Russians and they offered safe passage and exile in exchange for my cooperation with their scientists. Please, help Maria and Mama find a home in Ulster or Wales, far from where anyone decent would follow them, and take care. Ill send a postcard under the alias of chadz.
French Scientist Killed in Russia by Police
Moscow, Russia
6 June 2012
13:00 GMT
A French scientist, whose name will be withheld until officials close their investigation, was killed yesterday outside the French consulate in what appears to be an instance of mistaken identity with Russian drug kingpin Konstantin Matvienko.
Last year, Russia Today reported with a video the mistaken arrests of suspected bank robbers who were Sunday shoppers on their way home from Evropeysky center
