The Profane Secrets of Doctor N

            “I warn you,” said Dr N.  “That this automaton is unlike anything I have yet created.  It transcends the limits of the human and the sacred.  It is a thousand million times beyond your imagination!”  He flicked the red switch and the elevator started down, lowering the both of them into the depths of the subterranean laboratory.

            “Oh I can’t wait,” Natasha said, twirling her pen as she looked through the text messages on her phone.  How did she ever get these kind of stupid assignments?  Other reporters got to cover dramatic stuff, and what did she get?  The mad scientist working on artificial intelligence.  Great, the signs of plain old natural intelligence were thin enough.

            The reached the bottom and the doors opened, revealing the deep darkness of the unlit lab.  It was positively something, but the word seemed to hover on the tip of her tongue.  Nighted?  Cryptic?  Tenebrous?  It was driving her crazy.  Dr. N flipped a switch with his steam-powered tentacle harness and the bright sodium lights flared to lighted, lit-up life, lighting the laboratory with light and illumination that chased away the darkness which Natasha could not think of the word for.  The whole lab was a jumble of half-finished robots and derelict computation devices.

            “Welcome to my underground laboratory young lady, you will find down here the wonders of the mechanic mind of which I am acolyte, high priest, master and project manager!  Only I hold the leash upon the barking, three-headed puppy of humanity’s future, whining for food, straining at the end of the limits of the lead, and rolling over upon its back, presenting a soft, fuzzy tummy to be rubbed!  I so love to rub that tummy!  Yes I do!  Yes I do!”  Doctor N laughed long and hard, rubbing his hands together and shaking his tentacles until steam came hissing out with a noise like stomped mice.

            Natasha raised an eyebrow.  “What?”

            “Ah-ha!  I will show you what I mean!  Come and see my most incredible creation!”  He all but sprinted to a huge, curtained shape and paused dramatically.  “Behold the PiraTron Six Million and Eight!”  He yanked the cloth away, revealing the polished black shape underneath.  It was nine feet high, made all of burnished black metal that once more made her think of the word she couldn’t think of.  It had one eye, a hook for a left hand, and a huge, armor-plated tricorn hat.

            “Giant Robot Pirate, Come On!” Doctor N shouted.

            Natasha jumped back as the armored titan hissed into life, the single eye glowing, steam billowing from the joints, and a collapsible flagpole extending from the shoulders to run up a tiny Jolly Roger.  The machine opened its huge, saw-edge mouth and spoke.

            “What the nut-locking, fist-picking, slime-bucket starboard wet troll giblets do ye want now?  Ye scum-boiling, puke-scooping, wad-crusted slam-pile waddle creep!  I oughtta slice ye into winkle-picking pieces just for openin’ yer mouth ye little half-brained elf-sucking spam-licker!  Aaaarrrgh!”  It brandished its hook, and then its one red eye fixed on Natasha.  “Aaahr!  Ye’ve brought me a likely wench to tickle me lugnuts and give a twist onto me ladle-walloping crestfallen dog-muck pistons!  For that I might forgive ye, ye aft-headed chalk-stacking cactus-assed filch-pile!  Ye codswalloping lack-fester junebug shag-wicket!  Arrrrrrh!  Come here ye dollsy wench, I’ll make ye the load-laundering lady of my sticky whelp!”

            Natasha stared at it with her mouth gaping open.  “What the hell is this supposed to be?”

            “It is the PiraTron Six Million and Eight!”  Doctor N cackled, flapping his tendrils.  “It displays the one trait no other being besides man has ever shown, and is therefore truly intelligent.  Animals may have language, they may use tools, but only human beings swear!”

            “Shut yer belly-pokin’ yaw-trap mouth, ye shark-farting crust eater!  I’ll spit you like a chubby waffle on my spindle-booger!  Smack the code and slobber wet stickleback fruit!  Smatter and Pus!  I’ll eat yer fark-addled stygian-“

            “Stygian!” Natasha almost shouted.  “That was it!  That was the word!  Stygian!  Thank you!”  She said.  “Fuck!”