a fair and balanced birdthing (raaven) wrote,
a fair and balanced birdthing


(via shiba_inu)

I'm Nicola Tesla! Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzt!
Which Historical Lunatic Are You?
From the fecund loins of Rum and Monkey.

A minister's son from Simljan in Austria-Hungary, you were precocious from an early age.
At three you could multiply three-digit numbers in your head and calculate how many seconds
visitors to your home had lived. In awe of your older brother Dane, you shot a pea-shooter
at his horse, causing it to throw him and inflict injuries from which he later died. This
tragedy haunted you ever after. You frequently suffered bouts of illness with hallucinations
throughout your life. During one affliction of cholera, you encountered the writing of Mark Twain,
with whom you were later to be close friends. Later, another, this time mystery, illness inexplicably
heightened your senses to a painful extent, only relenting when you hit upon the idea of the
alternating current motor.

You developed an aversion to human contact, particularly involving hair, and a fear of pearls;
when one would-be lover kissed you, you ran away in agony. Later, you insisted that any repeated
actions in your day-to-day life had to be divisible by three, or, better yet, twenty-seven. You
would, for example, continue walking until you had executed the required number of footsteps. You
refused to eat anything until you had calculated its exact volume. Saltine crackers were a favourite
for their uniformity in this respect. In the midst of important work, you forgot trivial details such
as eating, sleeping or, on one memorable occasion, who you were.

Your inventions, always eccentric, began on a suitably bizarre note. The first was a frog-catching
device that was so successful, and hence so emulated by your fellow children, that local frogs were
almost eradicated. You also created a turbine powered by gluing sixteen May bugs to a tiny windmill.
The insects panicked and flapped their wings furiously, powering the contraption for hours on end.
This worked admirably until a small child came along and ate all the creatures alive, after which
you never again touched another insect.

Prompted by dreams of attaining the then-ridiculed goal of achieving an alternating-current motor,
you went to America in the hope of teaming up with Thomas Edison. Edison snubbed you, but promised
fifty thousand dollars if you could improve his own direct-current motor by 20% efficiency. You
succeeded. Edison did not pay up. It was not long until you created an AC motor by yourself.

Now successful, you set up a small laboratory, with a few assistants and almost no written records
whatsoever. Despite it being destroyed by fire, you invented the Tesla Coil, impressing even the
least astute observer with man-made lightning and lights lit seemingly by magic. Moving to Colorado
Springs, you created a machine capable of sending ten million volts into the Earth's surface, which
even while being started up caused lightning to shoot from fire hydrants and sparks to singe feet
through shoes all over the town. When calibrated to be in tune with the planet's resonance, it
created what is still the largest man-made electrical surge ever, an arc over 130 feet long.
Unfortunately, it set the local power plant aflame.

You returned to New York, incidentally toying with the nascent idea of something eerily like today's
internet. Although the wealthiest man in America withdrew funding for a larger, more powerful
resonator in short order, it did not stop you announcing the ability to split the world in two.
You grew ever more diverse in your inventions: remote-controlled boats and submarines, bladeless
turbines, and, finally, a death ray.

While whether the ray ever existed is still doubtful, it is said that you notified the Peary polar
expedition to report anything strange in the tundra, and turned on the ray. First, nothing happened;
then it disintegrated an owl; finally, reports reached you of the mysterious Tunguska explosion, upon
which news you dismantled the apparatus immediately. An offer during WWII to recreate it was,
thankfully, never acted upon by then-President Wilson. Turning to other matters, you investigated
the forerunner of radar, to widespread derision.

Your inventions grew stranger. One oscillator caused earthquakes in Manhattan. You adapted this for
medical purposes, claiming various health benefits for your devices. You found they let you work for
days without sleep; Mark Twain enjoyed the experience until the sudden onset of diarrhoea. You
claimed to receive signals in quasi-Morse Code from Mars, explored the initial stages of quantum
physics; proposed a "wall of light", using carefully-calibrated electromagnetic radiation, that
would allegedly enable teleportation, anti-gravity airships and time travel; and proposed a basic
design for a machine for photographing thoughts. You died aged 87 in New York, sharing an apartment
with the flock of pigeons who were by then your only friends.

Ridiculed throughout your life (Superman fought the evil Dr. Tesla in 1940s comics), you were
posthumously declared the father of the fluorescent bulb, the vacuum tube amplifier and the X-ray
machine, and the Supreme Court named you as the legal inventor of the radio in place of Marconi.
Wardenclyffe, the tower once housing your death ray, was dynamited several times to stop it falling
into the hands of spies. It was strangely hard to topple, and even then could not be broken up.

I didn't like that the code given didn't give the full text about Tesla, so I added it in.
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