It was late on a Thursday night, and, Thursday night being my alchemy night, I was deep in my supply room gathering tools and materials to begin working on a recipe that I had just gotten from the Voynich Manuscript. Although, I hesitate to overstate: I could not afford(more) the entire manuscript on my meager salary; but only a portion of it, and only in partnership with another enthusiast. One page. Page 98.
Collecting the materials had proven challenging, as the author was very specific about the results depending heavily on using only organic, whole grain, free-range ingredients; and in this day and age (1899) everything is so processed. It took perseverance, and some foraging in the field, but eventually I had what I needed.
As I began integrating the ingredients over my bunsen burner my anticipation was almost uncontrollable. The voices in my head were clamoring for me to turn it up, to hurry it up; but one voice quietly told me to be patient. Let the process work itself through. Allow the results to unfold at their own pace.
And unfold they did. A purple vapour began to issue from the glass, and I watched in fascination as it curled in the air before me. I was mesmerized by its color and beauty, but also becoming drowsy as the haze thickened around me. I thought I heard a knocking on the front door upstairs, but it seemed so late and so far away; and in the end I could not rouse myself to answer it.
I was brought back by the shattering of glass, and shards hitting me in the face and on my hands. The liquid must have all simmered away as I dozed. How long? I wondered. I shut off the gas and stepped back bewildered.(less)