#extrodinary machine

Please, please, please No more melodies They lack impact, they're petty They've been made up already

But me and everybody's on the sad, same team And you can hear our sad brains screaming:

It had been quite a while since Harold had really left his lab. He was perfectly alright with that. It was that curse that happened when a project reached eighty percent or more complete. Maybe if he stayed there for just one more hour working he'd be that much closer. And then another hour and he'd be nearly done. 

Naturally, this added up to a host of hours gone and past and the thing still wasn't completely done. Though now he was certain he was almost there, really truly. Now it was just a matter of testing this stimuli and the electrical currents. Harold must have changed the circuitry five times today alone. Or maybe it was seven. It was possible that the whole thing had taken longer than just the day. Who really knew. Time was the first thing to fall by the wayside, after all.

Harold was hunched over the table, his soldering iron locking the last wire for this round into place, when a rap on the door sent him jumping out of his seat. His heart pounding, the first thing he did was check to be sure his work was safe. Lucky for him, it appeared his hand jerked out of the way just in time. Lucky for whoever was at the door, more like. "What is it?" he grumbled, refusing to leave his spot at the workbench to get the door. He knew for a fact he hadn't invited anyone to his lab for today. This had better be pressing or it could wait.