 Dr. Samet continued from his wheelchair, his right foot still in a cast after that terrible, accidental firearm discharge. We must now proceed with the application of, he stopped, staring at Dr. Bright in some kind of horror. What is that? Bright smiled calmly as his assistants continued to eat him in the final calibrations. Laying on the table before him in pieces at the moment were the three pieces of a rather ugly looking metal staff. Wires and cables trailed off at odd angles and continued to look more bizarre, the more the lucky bunch filled with it. It's a staff, Samet. I can see that much 9.63. The doctor without a clue snarled. But why do you have it here? Firmly grasping the now assembled staff, Bright turned on Samet with a scowl. My name is Dr. Bright and this is to attract 682's attention.