The Element of Deception

Before you close the book on my life and judge me, a mere moment of your time? You ask me to justify myself, my Lord, and so I shall.

Yes, in my time, my name was Wolfram. I discovered Tungsten, as it is known today, but I insisted that everyone call it Wolfram. Be it ego or a wish for immortality, I do not know, but I discovered it and catalogued its properties, so I thought I deserved such an honor.

Discovery was not enough, however, and I felt it necessary to share this wondrous metal with the ever-demanding scientific community and the increasingly insatiable public. I took to the podium, far and wide, and declared: "Wolfram will be the savior of modern society,"

"Savior indeed!" said a man in the crowd. "Don't kid yourself, fool. You can't even match your socks."


"No, no," I cried, "I don't mean myself... I mean the metal... Wolfram."

"Oh," said the heckler. "I thought it was called Tungsten."

"It's Wolfram," I hissed.
"Sorry," said the heckler. "Go on."

"My discovery, Wolfram, shall be the savior of society." I removed a blanket from the table next to me, revealing several constructs of metal. "Each of these objects contains large amounts of Wolfram, and they are imbued with a property of heat resistance." I waved a burner over each of the objects, and not a one was tarnished or consumed by the flame.

"Oooooohhhhhh," said the crowd.

"And for fifty cents on the dollar," I said, removing another blanket, "I'll sell you a bottle of gen-you-wine Wolfram Heat Resistant Tonic. Guar-wan-teed to keep that summer heat off your hide. Step right this way and get yourself a bottle."

People lined up for hours to buy the potions. I would wander from county fair to county fair, selling the stuff and turning the profits back into the work on my research.

Over the years, the dollars piled up, and I forgot my humility and became accustomed to a lavish lifestyle. I eased back on the pursuit of science and focused on the pursuit of wealth.

I thought the moment would never end, but sadly, it did.

Through a tragic turn of events, a horrible accident in demonstrating the tonic involving a volunteer, a bonfire, and a slight miscalculation of the flash point of kerosene ended up in the papers. The settlement with the victim's family was but a mere drop in the bucket when compared to the vastness of my wealth, but through the public exposure a far worse challenge was revealed.

My wife caught wind of my huckstering.

"I thought you were a reputable scientist," she bawled.

"I am," I said. "It just so happens to be that I am a also a disreputable salesman. How did you think I could afford all this research?" I waved my arms around our castle, with all of its opulence and luxury. "There's more to life than seventy-four protons and electrons. That's not Wolfram on your neck and wrists... that's gold, silver, platinum and tightly-arrayed carbon."

We eventually divorced. She got the castle, the lab equipment, and the carriage. I got visitation rights to my beloved Wolfram on the weekends and on two major holidays of my choosing per year. I continued to wander the countryside selling my potions, growing more and more sullen at the increasing number of people shouting "But isn't that called Tungsten?" at the county fairs.

I grew cold, outside and inside. My travels wore me down and hunched me over, the years bore on, and soon enough I found myself face-to-face with your most merciful Angel.

"I'm the W!" I shouted on my death-bed, clutching my threadbare blanket with the Periodic Table woven into it. "I'm the W! Me! Sir Thomas Wolfram! My name will live forever with Hahn and Rutherford as long as there's that W!"

And so I stand before you today, a broken soul. When I should have been dedicating my discoveries to your eternal glory, I was instead grubbing for mere mortal comforts and trinkets while basking in my own pitiful glory. I will understand that I have no right by which to beg you for mercy and forgiveness, and therefore entry into your vast Kingdom.

Although, should you see fit to consign me to eternal flaming perdition, I ask you for one mere favor. The slightest of boons and the least gesture imaginable for such a wretched misery as myself is all I beseech you for.

Can I take this bottle of my Wolfram Heat Resistant Tonic with me?

[conradd]

Oh, to write like Larry. Thanks for sharing this! I can't wait to stand in line for my autographed copy of your first published work.

Deb

I thought I'd have a little fun pretending to be a real writer and add a few notes on every one of the stories and things I post up here. (Might as well... not like I've got anything better to do right now.)

The Periodic Table graces the inside cover of most school science books and all Chemistry texts.

(http://www.webelements.com/)

After you look through all the letters and numbers and boxes, you eventually wonder why some of the abbreviations don't seem to quite match the element names. Hg = Mercury (Hydroargentum), Fe = Iron (Ferrum), Sn = Tin (Stannum) and so on.

One of the odder ones is W = Tungsten. It turns out that W was originally known as wolfram, since it was isolated from wolframite ore back in 1783 by some very smart Spaniards. There's lots of neat little stories out there about how some of these elements were discovered, although I find it kind of odd that something's just lying around like Gold or Silver and someone "discovers" it. Sort of like Columbus discovering the New World, and yet people already live here.

*shrug*

I thought I'd come up with a rather silly origin for the element. Since it has such a high melting point and its used for heat-resistance applications, why not play a little with that property. Add in a carnival huckster ala "Something Wicked This Way Comes" and a little Citizen Kane and bam... really basic too-short first-person story.

I'm sure there's other pointless and silly stories to be made about the other elements.