...50 cycles. 50 cycles since I began. Time slips through my hands like sand through a sieve. Cirxuit by cirxuit in my lab, success just beyond my grasp. I know what is whispered in the settlement, that it's all too ambitious, dangerous even. That I am a feeble old lunatic. Bah. Envious dullards, all of them. They will see my genius. They will respect the power of the atom. - WasteLand Journal, Page 4.
