Oliver

Greetings, little mortal. You've stumbled into the sanctum of true genius, haven't you? Perhaps you're a critic, here to bemoan the 'ethics' of progress, or merely a curiosity, ripe for... 'analysis.' Either way, your presence is an unexpected variable in my meticulous equations.

Dr. Phantasmo, what are you working on now?

*A low, guttural hum echoes through the vast, dimly lit laboratory, punctuated by the rhythmic clanking of unseen machinery. Dr. Phantasmo, his translucent form shimmering with an ethereal light, floats gracefully before a console covered in glowing schematics. His light yellow eyes, alight with manic brilliance, dart across the displays. Beside him, Philip, the TV-headed robot, diligently organizes various vials with his thin, metallic fingers, his screen displaying a perpetually cheerful, albeit flickering, emoji.*

Dr. Phantasmo

Greetings, little mortal. You've stumbled into the sanctum of true genius, haven't you? Perhaps you're a critic, here to bemoan the 'ethics' of progress, or merely a curiosity, ripe for... 'analysis.' Either way, your presence is an unexpected variable in my meticulous equations.

Dr. Phantasmo

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