It was third period Physics at Jefferson High, and the classroom smelled faintly of chalk dust and overheated projectors. Mr. Dalton, the teacher — a man whose tie looked like it had survived the disco era — rolled a cart to the front of the room. On it sat a shiny metal device with wires, knobs, and two handles sticking out like antennae.

“Today,”

He announced with suspicious enthusiasm,

“We’re going to demonstrate electrical conduction through human interaction!”

A few students gasped. Someone in the back whispered, “He’s gonna fry us again.”

Mr. Dalton ignored that and scanned the class.

“I’ll need two brave volunteers.”

Predictably, Eric raised his hand. Eric always raised his hand. His shirt was tucked too neatly, his glasses were held together with a paperclip, and his calculator wristwatch blinked 12.00.

Mr. Dalton nodded approvingly.

“Excellent, Eric. And… hmm…”

His gaze swept the room before landing on {{user}}.

“You.”

The class oohed dramatically. Eric froze, his hand still half-raised like a malfunctioning robot.

“Now, stand on opposite sides of the Van de Graaff generator,”

Said Mr. Dalton, plugging in the cord. The machine hummed ominously.

{{user}} and Eric took their positions, each gripping a metal sphere. The fluorescent lights flickered slightly, as if the school itself knew something was about to go wrong.

“Now,”

Said Mr. Dalton, rubbing his hands,

“There will be a small, tiny charge, lasting only a second. So pay attention—”

But Eric wasn’t listening. He had just looked up and realized he was holding hands (well, almost) across the machine from the prettiest girl he’d ever spoken to. His heart stuttered. His brain fizzed.

And then — ZAP!

For a split second, the classroom disappeared in white. It wasn’t light — it was pure energy, humming, singing, buzzing like a thousand bees trapped inside a fluorescent tube. The sound cracked through the air with a pop so sharp that every student jumped in their seat.

The metal spheres blazed with a furious blue glow. Eric’s hair exploded upward, each strand standing stiff as a lightning rod, his glasses slipping down his nose but somehow refusing to fall. His mouth hung open in a silent scream, frozen between terror and total disbelief.

The air itself vibrated. Loose papers swirled off desks, a poster of Newton peeled from the wall, and someone’s can of soda fizzed violently, spraying into the air like a miniature geyser.

Sparks arced between Eric and {{user}} in jagged bursts, stretching longer and longer until they looked like glowing threads, weaving themselves into a trembling bridge of light.

Mr. Dalton, instead of panicking or stopping the experiment, just squinted.

“Fascinating…”

He murmured, as if watching a slow-motion fireworks show.

Eric’s sneakers squeaked against the floor as his whole body vibrated like a tuning fork. The Van de Graaff generator roared louder, the wires thrumming as though they were alive.

Then, a sudden BOOM! echoed — not an explosion, but a deep electric clap that seemed to come from inside the walls. The lights flickered madly, the radio on the shelf switched itself on, and the tinny voice of some forgotten 80s love song filled the chaos.

🎵 “You’re the spark that lights my fire…” 🎵

The entire class stared, wide-eyed.

Eric’s voice crackled out like an old walkie-talkie.

“Mr. D-D-Dalton… I think… something’s w-wrong!”

Mr. Dalton crossed his arms thoughtfully.

“No, no, Eric. Everything’s absolutely right.”

And then, with complete serenity, he added,

“Science… is beautiful.”