Murphy Rules 04 - "Snowflake"

What happens when it warms up with Snowflakes?

Other Murphy Stories:

01 - "Mars Probe 12-B"

02 - "Taken"

03 - "Bad Boy Bobby Brown"

04 - "Snowflake" ← Current

Note: Our thanks to Rod Serling

For Twilight Zone & Night Gallery

And so much more.

*

In the large darkened room there was a singular pool of light which came from high above. The unseen light was above a dark painting displayed upon an easel. There were a number of other odd pieces of art of various sizes and shapes and colors that could been seen at the edge of darkness. None of which could readily be made out. Just hints of colors and perhaps of shapes on the various canvases. And there was also the odd statue displayed in the semi-darkness.

Which of these artistic items displayed would now be offered to the audience this evening?

Perhaps the painting on the far left which showed a seated lady in a long white gown surrounded by the green ivy plants that were beginning to encircle her. To the right there was some thing that shimmered in a darker painting that may have been of an old, bearded, sea Captain with a sailor's cap staring out into the distance. Or maybe the odd statue in the back center which might remind one of the stone gargoyles that stood guard from the towers of the cathedrals found across Europe.

So many dark pieces of art. So many odd, interesting and yet disturbing tales yet to be told.

A middle aged man in a dark suit walked silently over to the one single, well lit painting and stopped beside it.

He was of average height with dark hair and well dressed in a dark business suit and tie with a white shirt. He stood next to the dark, drab looking painting of what looked like a blizzard of snow on a dark and stormy night.

He slowly turned towards an unseen audience and gestured to the painting.

With a focus on the dark painting one could almost see in the grayish white swirling snow storm what seemed to be the startled face of a young woman.

The man spoke in a soft but low, firm, gravelly voice. "Tonight, with your indulgence, we bring to you this unusual, dark, watercolor that displays the cold and bitter seemly anger of a recent storm that gathered across this nation during the just past Presidential election. The anger of which of course still lingers on with it's cold and nasty winds of lies, half truths and extreme innuendos. With some veiled fragments of the Truth becoming lost in the gathering darkness."

"Welcome once again to the 'Night Gallery' and to the first viewing of this piece of art titled 'A Storm of Snowflakes.' It depicts quite well a moment from our recent history. Now captured in this dark, gloomy and surrealistic water color upon this once bright and clean white canvas."

"If one were to stare for awhile upon this dark, gloomy, water color, one will in time see the faint outline of what might appear to be indistinct images of nondescript, perhaps one might even say, ghostly shadows of people who have not quite faded into the deeper darkness of their own personal nightmare."

"Looking back now, at a few moments of recent history, they, the members of this rather elite branch of humanity, were so sure of themselves, and yet, also so very, very fragile and ever so delicate in nature and so highly sensitive and so extremely unstable in their own self worth and also so quick to get angry and so very quick to become destructively violent, when ever they did not get their way. That some people in positions of power and authority began to bow down to the extreme nature of the needs of these very volatile, yet so very unstable and as it turned out, totally worthless members of our once great society."

"Or one could say, in less than proper terms, these poor, fragile, delicate individuals were spoiled rotten to the core with their own selfish needs and desires catered to."

"A few may say that these young individuals, were brought up in ways that were much easier than those of us from an earlier age -- thus they are too delicate for the harsh and demanding nature of today's world."

"As indicated by the need of many schools of higher education to provide safe places for their students with staff maned 'crying rooms' and allowing these highly unstable students of higher learning to skip and ignore their Mid-Term and Final Exams if they were -- 'too emotionally distraught.'"

"One could say they defiantly are not members of 'The Greatest Generation.' Nor even their offspring or grandchildren. This group have become members of a less hardy or less sturdy group of sensitive individuals."

"However, In general, as their delicate nature of these very sorry excuses of individuals, allowed themselves to be publicly active, their true nature came to light. Then they were given a name by the more secure and empowered individuals of our society. It was a title that more fully expressed their personality and of course their very delicate nature and how they reacted to the warmth of a heated debate or discussion or situation."

"Thus came into being this painting, now displayed for public viewing, the classification of a group of highly sensitive and so fragile individuals now known simply as 'Snowflakes.'"

"Thus the title of tonight's show and this painting: a singular piece of art."

"Enjoy now this short tale from the Night Gallery, which we call, 'The Melting Of A Snowflake.'"

<><><><><><><><><><>

The twenty year old, long haired, red head, with her face full of freckles, was a rather pretty young woman. Some would even call her gorgeous. But those were the ones who did not know her. Yet, Paula Marie Amstead, who was sitting in her collage Senior Advanced Chemistry Class was not pretty as a individual. To say she was self-centered only on her own needs and wants and desires, did not go far enough. To say she was quick to anger would be like thinking of her as a unstable mass of nuclear material that was already at the point of going explosively critical. Thinking of her as a friendly person did not take into consideration the volatile and hostile nature of her personality, that of loathing of anything that did not bring her praise or honors or rewards or her receiving something that would led to her own advancement or self-gratification.

Thus, true to her nature, Paula was not even pretending to be listening to the instructor. She had, in her own mind, a much higher calling. One more important than any of the stupid tests the collage could but before her.

She never really studied. She remembered everything she ever read. Word for word. Long complex formulas. Hamlet in it's entirety. And every lecture she had ever attended. She was gifted with what she called 'flash memory.' All she had to do was look at a page and she would always remember it. Always! And in perfection to every comma and period. It was the same with every statement ever made at every lecture she attended.

And she had the drive and hard personality to go with her memory. And she could remember every conversation she had verbatim in exacting detail.

And Paula had a certain loathing contempt for anyone that fell beneath her own high standards.

For she knew, in her own mind, that her drive and determination and her formidable and seemingly long term and never ending and non-forgetting memory, would carry her to the highest positions in anything she set her mind to. She knew she would go higher than any of those who sat about her would ever reach.

And in time the various members of academia and the world at large would, she knew, exchange comments about her as the unknown rising star. Who, in time, would reach any goal she set before herself.

And those that could use extra help would often seek her out, but would be firmly rejected. And of course her brash openly and hostile and highly critical attitude, she was the one, singular student that was to all just a lost cause in the eyes of the instructors.

In her three years of collage Paula had yet to even have one date. Her swift and caustic rejection of any male that approached her was quickly dismissed by her with language that was -- quick, angry and very unladylike. As were her responses to the few females who had approached her.

And her caustic remarks about the male of the species that drifted after any of the poor males who had dared to approach her, was quickly spread by those very same males that she had rebuked many all about the campus. And none of the others wanted to waste their time on a foul mouthed 'and nasty Ice Queen.'

She had, but briefly, four different room mates for each of the fours years at the school. Now her parents paid double the rent. She was not a self centered person -- she was beyond that -- she was totally fixated upon herself and her own goals. Her own strengths. Her own self determination to dominate everything and everyone about her. To Paula everything else in life was secondary.

Paula's thoughts were of course elsewhere. Rather than on her current surroundings.

They were not on the words of her instructor, Dr. Sandra Lockwood, who was currently informing the class about the chemistry experiment they were about to conduct and of the hazardous chemicals they were going to be using. And she yet again covered the care that would be necessary.

Paula had, as usual, all but turned off the droning, mono-toned voice of the instructor.

Doctor Lockwood again spoke of the volatile nature of the chemicals they would be using.

"Yeah! Yeah! Yeah!" muttered Paula as her thoughts were of course focused on her own personal mission. It was not like she really had any real inner desires to actually practice chemistry after she graduated. It was just another stupid and useless course she was required to take to meet the requirements for graduation and to receive her degree.

And it was an absolute total waste of her time.

But she knew she had to at least make an appearance. She had to attend the classes and endure the boring lectures in order to get that damn, stupid piece of useless paper.

Thus, as usual, she was more focused on other things and not on the dangers of the chemicals they were to be using -- her thoughts were however on the results of the recent Presidential Election that had just been released by the very informative Liberal News Media. Where the professional and highly skilled commentators and members of the left slanted news media, now suggested that the election had been rigged by either a foreign power, or more likely by a group of domestic terrorists, or even the supporters of the other Right Wing political party and their unthinking drone minions.

Or, perhaps, thought Paula, as suggested by some of the media elite: that it was the power hungry conservatives. Those unthinking, ruthless members of our society, that were bent on destroying their liberal minded candidate and to have that stupid, conservative ass of a billionaire businessman win.

Paula was just so damned pissed that the female candidate that she wanted in the White House had failed to get elected. She berated herself in her own feelings that she had failed in her duty. She should have taken more time and reached out to more voters. To convince them to vote for her candidate. The best candidate to save the country and continue the forward march of Progressive Liberalism.

Of course she, like the others, ignored the many dark tales that had surfaced on the internet about 'Their Candidate' and her husband and their very selected types of dark, recreational activities and the rumors of their vast, ill gotten,wealth. And there were also the rumors of the underhanded deals her candidate had been rumored to have had a hand in.

And the party bosses were quick to silence the detractors and their lies.

Paula just could not understand the reasoning behind the failure of the campaign. She had and so had many others, all worked so hard pushing the idea of a woman President with everyone she spoke with. She herself had spent many hours canvasing every day. Not just here locally, but canvasing across several states in the areas she was assigned to by the candidate's local headquarters. She had even skipped some classes. And ignored her own need to study for today's final Chemistry Test.

She sighed and remained focused upon her own concerns, ignoring the Instructor's monotone droning words and directions.

But it was just so important, Paula knew, to get the word out to the voters about her candidate and her positions and her agenda. And also to push for her goals for the country and yet - more importantly - for women. And to get a woman -- a strong woman -- into the highest position of political power here in this country. Like in England with her hero, The Iron Maiden -- Margaret Thatcher.

"And remember," stated Doctor Lockwood, from in front of the class, "some of the chemicals you are working with can be dangerous if mishandled."

"Yeah! Yeah," muttered Paula, softly under her breath, as she steadfastly brought her thoughts back on the utter tragedy that was the election. She had to be totally and fully focused on her own failure, which she had tied to her candidate. Perhaps, she mused, she should have stayed out longer on the campaign trail, reaching out to more voters.

"So follow the safety precautions to make sure you do not get hurt. Remember to use your safety gear."

Paula had already completely blocked out Doctor Lockwood's rambling and mind numbing comments.

She knew that she could take this stupid test as a remake due to her being sick. That fact was, she snorted, already well documented with her instructors and the staff. And of her even getting a pass for the course due to her 'delicate' health condition.

"You have sixty minutes to conduct your experiment," stated Professor Lockwood. "And then sixty more to complete your notes and pass them in." Professor Lockwood looked about the laboratory. "Starting now!"

As was her custom, Paula looked at the three pages of instructions for about one second each. Then, with her 'flash memory' knowing exactly what chemical was in what jar and in which position it would be in within the three tier row of bottles before her on the lab table. Thus, without looking, she just reached and picked up a bottle of the first chemical on the instruction list. Then, not bothering to read the contents, she quickly measured out some of the contents exactly as the instructions called for and poured it into the large flask.

According to Paula's thinking she was three fourth's of the way down the first page of adding chemicals in various amounts and in the proper steps and she knew that right now there should be just a collection of dry, powdered chemicals of different colors in a small pile at the bottom of the flask.

She knew from her flash reading of the instructions that the end result of the experiment would a light greenish liquid layer with a darker blue layer above with bits of bright fluorescence particles suspended within the blue layer. And as time progressed, Paula knew, that the fluorescence would continue turning the blue layer to a yellow, heavier layer that would sink to the bottom of the flask with the now lighter green layer on top.

Surprised, Paula did admit to herself that it was a creative way of demonstrating to the class the density of layered chemicals. And the reaction of the selected chemicals was -- interesting -- when one considered the unexpected chemical reaction and the light show.

Again she poured in the next chemical and heard a splash of liquid. "What?" she asked softly as she glanced up at the flask of chemicals for the first time and really looked at it's contents.

She looked at the flask with the chemical mixture.

Slowly she observed the beginnings of another chemical reaction. A thick, dark greenish cloud was forming in the bottom of the flask. And within the green cloud there appeared to Paula small, tiny sparks of light. Almost like lightening in a jar.

For once in her life Paula was stunned. This should not be happening, she muttered to herself. Paula knew the chemicals she used, their measured amounts and of the reactions that should be expected. There should not have been any reaction at all with the chemicals called for so far on the list. There should be just a small pile of different powdered chemicals of a variety of colors.

She quickly mentally reviewed what she did. No, she told herself this was wrong. The reaction she was watching was -- just wrong!

She once again looked at the sheet of instructions and this time Paula actually reread the instructions.

Meanwhile there was the dark, thick, greenish cloud still forming at the bottom of the large beaker. And it was beginning to fill the flask.

But Paula's attention was still fully on reviewing of the steps she had taken. This second time down the instructions she actually looked at the bottles of chemicals before her.

Paula again glanced up at the flask.

The thick, foaming, dark green cloud had filled about one third of the flask. And it was ever so slowly expanding and climbing up the sides of the clear glass container.

She then looked at the rows of bottles of chemicals on the shelves before her. And actually read the chemical names. She reached out as she had before and the first two bottles she touched were wrong. She then quickly glanced again and started to touch each of the bottles she had taken samples from.

While Paula was reviewing which chemicals she had actually used and she attempted to figure out what was going on within the beaker before her, as the unknown chemical mixture continued its rapid reaction and the dark green cloud was now rapidly filling the beaker and was reaching it's upper rim.

Then it started to bubble rapidly over the rim.

"Doctor Lockwood!" stated Paula with a bit of alarm to her voice..

Doctor Sandra Lockwood looked up from her desk. There was a look of surprise on her face. "Yes, Paula?"

Paula answered slowly. "I -- I think -- I made a mistake." Still looking at the flask filled with the bubbling greenish cloud.

Lockwood looked puzzled.

The rest of her class was beginning to turn around and look back at Paula.

Lockwood rose as she asked, "What type of mistake?"

"It's foaming," replied Paula.

"Class -- emergency procedures! Exit the lab! Now!" directed Lockwood as she stepped around her desk.

The other students quickly exited the lab.

Except for Paula who remained seated and was fixated upon the foaming mixture tthat was now flowing across her lab table like a very dense, thick, dark, blackish-green sparkling fog.

Lockwood made her way to the exit as she called out again. "Paula -- get out now!"

Yet Paula remained seated at her lab bench. She could only stare at the foaming cloud that was steadily getting larger.

Lockwood was about to move towards her when there was an explosion of black, grayish mist that engulfed Paula.

Lockwood stepped though the exit door and closed it behind her. Just as the mist filled the room.

She hit the emergency red alarm that was on the wall beside the lab door. It would, she knew seal off the lab and contain what ever was happening. It would also, she knew, trap Paula within the lab.

Lockwood looked back through the thick glass of the door and through the swirling mist spotted Paula still sitting at her lab table. She had almost vanished into the expanding cloud blackish mist.

Lockwood knew she would always remember the look of surprise upon Paula's face just before the swirling black mist covered her.

Several hours later.

The fire department's Hazmat Team had retreated from the lab through a portable airlock they had set up. The leader of the team looked over at her and slowly shook his head. Another firefighter then hosed him down as he stood in a pool that collected the runoff water.