"Fun" With Chemistry; Closed

[donttalktome]

characters: M.K., Rosalind, Will
location: Ros' lab
date/time: starting Sept. 9
content: time to play with radioactive materials! (and maybe learn something who knows)
warnings: none

During their attempts to suss out what's up with this glowing rock, Will and M.K. realize they're going to need some proper lab equipment. And, okay, another smart person on board wouldn't be a bad idea, either.

Since Rosalind has built a makeshift lab in the town square, where better to go? It's Science Time, ladies lady and gentlemen.

Prompt(s) below!

Comments

[donttalktome]

[Two among the things Will dislikes, and there's a very long list, are having a tag-along and having to ask for help. And today he's got both. Fantastic.

But there's a lump of raw plutonium that needs investigating, and he's never had a reason to ask Rastus for lab equipment, so it's not as if he can just do this in his room or something. The upside is that at least he isn't asking someone useless to simply borrow their space; Rosalind knows what she's doing, and if they need actual assistance, she can provide. Though he doubts they'll even have to need it.

She'll probably want in regardless.

Which, he supposes, isn't much different from M.K., but he'll count his blessings that the wasteland child was willing to allow for some actual science. Science that M.K. intends to "supervise", but so long as he's not in the way, it's... tolerable.

Stepping into the lab, Will only takes the time to note that Rosalind is, in fact, here, before launching into things.]

What do you have around here for performing chemical tests? I don't suppose you've got a mass spectrometer hidden away, but here's hoping. My... [Follower? Hanger-on?] associate here has come into possession of a bit of radioactive material. We'd like to learn more about it.

[originallutece]

Hello, Dr. Ingram.

[That, first and foremost, not because she's polite but because she's irritated he walked in without knocking. Her voice is low and steady, her tone chilly and her eyes colder. She does not like Will, but that's all right. She at least respects his mind.

And the man behind him-- oh, no. It's a boy, isn't it? Yes. A boy, and one she knows vaguely from around town, but not very much. Her eyes sweep over him before focusing back on Will.]

Set it down on the table. I'll see what I can do. Where did you find it?

[That's for M.K., said as she turns, beginning to gather things.]

[darkeyed]

<sub>[Two exceptionally intelligent (if morally dubious) people and one dark one walk into a laboratory. It's either the start to a joke, or the beginnings of a very odd confederation of people.

Said boy-man passes no judgement on Rosalind's lab; though to his eyes it's more or less a museum of oddities he couldn't begin to divine, he assumes everything has its purpose, much like Will and his bits and pieces from the tablets. It's the same with them--they each have their purpose, and he can see the value in Rosalind's if she indeed has the skills to tell more. His might be at its limit when it comes to investigative research, but he's curious enough about the many varied reactions this tiny rock has inspired n people to see it through.

"Associate," though? He casts the briefest knowing look Will's way before focusing on her. Unfortunate color, that red hair. Not because he thinks it doesn't suit her, but because of the association it conjures. Beacon does love its ironies. Here he is, back in the lair of a redheaded woman who stares through people with eyes that could flay a man.]</sub>

He thinks you can help.

<sub>[The woman didn't ask for an explanation as to why they're barging in on her, and he's not exactly a bastion of polite manners on a good day, but he says it anyway, setting down the plutonium still in the evidence bag Dick Grayson had put it in.

Cutting out the middleman, he merely produces letter and envelope from his pocket and holds them out for her.]</sub>

It was in an old post office. The spirit there was holding onto it.

[donttalktome]

Why they gave it to him, I have no idea.

[He'll just continue right where your thought left off, M.K., all while looking around him for a place to sit. Even a nearby table will do, so long as there's nothing hazardous on top.]

Perhaps he bears some resemblance to the person it was originally meant for. Who knows.

[He waves a hand to dismiss that line of thought because it's not really relevant.]

Mostly I'd like to know if it came from this area. Meaning we'll need to identify the matrix it's in and any other material stuck to it. Figure out if it matches the native rock.

[originallutece]

[Carefully, she tugs out the specimen in question and sets it on her lab table. There's a faint frown on her face, but any hint of displeasure is immediately gone when one looks at the gleam in her eyes.

This is interesting.

There's a very long waiting period for the boys, unfortunately. Rosalind isn't really cognizant of them right now. She's too busy muttering to herself, faint phrases and unfinished thoughts, as she scrawls on a notebook nearby. The plutonium is examined, of course: first by hand and then by microscope, and she tries interactions with varying chemicals: carbon and hydrogen, among others, if they're paying any attention to her.

At one point, she sprays something on a corner, and smiles in grim satisfaction as that bit takes on a yellow tinge.

But finally, finally she pulls back. She looks enormously satisfied with herself, one leg crossing over the other, and holds up a finger.]

First: a deal. I want to study this further. I can tell you a fair bit about this, but that's my price: it stays with me in my lab for a time.

[donttalktome]

[Waiting has never been Will's favorite activity. He's perfectly content to go slowly when that's his own pace, but when it's someone else holding up the line, it's practically unbearable.

He sets himself up on a nearby table and tries to distract himself with his tablet. It doesn't really work, and his mind ends up wandering to the subject at hand. Is there even enough naturally occurring plutonium on this planet for this to possibly have originated here? Are they wasting their time? Does Rosalind even know what she's looking at?

He watches her subject the specimen to other chemicals, probably hoping for a telling reaction. But what if she doesn't know how to interpret the reaction she gets? He should've insisted on doing this himself.

But at last, she does seem to come up with an answer. Multiple answers, if she's telling the truth. Will shrugs, barely giving her ultimatum a second thought.]

Well I certainly don't care one way or the other. It's nowhere near reactor grade, and even if it was, there's not nearly enough of it. It's basically useless to me.

[But oh, right, it doesn't technically belong to him. He glances over at M.K.]

[darkeyed]

_{[He glances at Will, eyebrow cocked, when the man muses his appearance could be the reason he's playing the part of third wheel. He hadn't considered that line of reasoning before, having it was entirely random happenstance he was there when the Postmaster decided to do his duty in delivering the mail. That's... a somewhat disconcerting thought.]}

Why aren't you the one doing this? Do you think she's that much better than you?

<sub>[This bit of his own musing directed at Will after the woman is several minutes into making the acquaintance of the plutonium and shows no signs of slowing down. A bit of unintentional mind reading, that.

No offense to Rosalind's aptitude, of course. But Will seems--and happily proclaims--to know a lot. In the way of Badlands' utilitarian way of cutting to the chase, if he could do the job just as well himself he might as well take the space to do it in, too.

Usually no friend of his, the ongoing thumb-twiddling is softened both by his unusual company and the lab, which he goes on to study at length the way visitors study exhibits in museums--except without the handy placards to explain the importance of the room. He takes mercy on Will by not strong-arming him into the task.

Finally, the woman surfaces for air... Though it's less informative than the lengthy time spent waiting would warrant, in his humble opinion, and he has a stronger one to share than the other man.]</sub>

You haven't even said you'll have anything worth telling yet. Are you going to come back with something useful? What about that symbol on the envelope?

_{[Somebody tell him he hasn't been holding onto a legitimately useless bit of rock.....................]}

[originallutece]

[Her eyebrow ticks up, and she gives M.K. a long, cold look. Is she going to come back with something useful? Might as well ask if water is wet or the sky is eternally dark.]

I'm keeping it.

[NOW IT'S NOT A CHOICE.]

This is a depiction of a logarithmic spiral whose growth factor is phi, which can become the more commonly known golden ratio. That, for the unaware, is when two quantities' ratio is the same as the ratio of their sum to the larger of the two quantities. Thusly:

[Aw, it's a little picture.]

Why that symbol is there is an unknown, unless Dr. Ingram would care to enlighten us. It has no known connection to this metal, nor indeed to any known element.

As for the metal itself: it has compositions of iron and silicate minerals, which are most commonly found in meteorites.