Intercom

For Mr. Marko, whose life had been a cruel tapestry of stolen brilliance and public humiliation, no one's affirmation was as potent, as soul-stirring, as Dutch's. So, the moment he saw Dutch, a tidal wave of pure, unadulterated joy washed over him.

"Oh, Dutch!!!" Marko shrieked, a sound of pure elation, and instantly abandoned his scientific post, rushing over like a man possessed. He hurled himself towards Dutch, his arms flailing, practically tackling the charismatic leader.

"Oh, Dutch! Friend, Dutch!! I succeeded, friend! I succeeded, Dutch!" Marko grabbed Dutch's hands, gripping them with an almost desperate fervor, his eyes brimming with tears, his face a contorted mask of overflowing emotion.

Dutch, ever the master of human manipulation, did not disappoint. He asked nothing, demanded no explanation. Instead, he radiated pure, unbridled joy and offered congratulations that felt like a lifeline. He gripped Marko's hands back, his own face contorted with an even greater, more theatrical, excitement than Marko's.

"Yes, Marko, you succeeded! Sir, you proved yourself! You are a genius! Oh, Marko, I am so excited for you, damn it, those snobbish gentlemen don't know the boundless talent you possess! Those doubting clowns will finally be thoroughly humiliated by you! Oh, Marko, well done, sir, you truly didn't disappoint me in the slightest!"

Dutch's torrent of encouragement was like a sudden, life-giving sweet dew in a parched desert for Marko, pouring into his already insecure and painfully sensitive heart. Marko's past was a litany of torment: his groundbreaking research stolen, his newly developed remote sensing technology openly ridiculed as nothing more than a cheap magic trick.

The relentless doubts and cruel mockery of the so-called scientific elite had already rendered him exquisitely sensitive, a raw nerve exposed to the harsh winds of cynicism.

And at this very moment, as his most loyal, most understanding friend, Dutch, without a single question or shred of doubt, immediately affirmed his inventions and his agonizing research. It was a sensation as delightful, as intoxicating, as a potent dose of opium. He clutched Dutch's hands, his face flushed scarlet, his entire body trembling with the sheer, overwhelming joy of being so profoundly praised.

"It's waves, sir, invisible waves, ghost waves, electromagnetic waves, waves! Dutch, I—" Marko stammered, trembling, his grip on Dutch's hands like a vise, attempting to articulate the dizzying inspiration behind his breakthrough. But before he could finish half of his enthusiastic, jumbled sentence, Arthur's familiar voice, startlingly clear, crackled from the circular communicator still clutched in Marko's hand.

"My goodness! Marko, why is this... this black disc in my hand making your voice? Damn it, am I already starting to hallucinate at such a young age?!" Arthur's voice, laced with bewildered disbelief, crackled through the small device.

"No, Arthur, this is our friend Marko's new invention, kid," Dutch said, his voice brimming with a dramatic flair, speaking directly to the black disc in Marko's hand as if it were Arthur himself. "See, just as I said back then, Mr. Marko is a person with truly amazing abilities!"

He then looked at Mr. Marko, who was visibly glowing, practically vibrating with pride from being praised so effusively in front of Arthur and Hosea. Dutch's face was a study in profound approval and, dare one say, even paternal pride.

"Oh, Marko, I think the only thing separating you from God himself is a glorious pair of wings!" Dutch declared, his arm wrapping around Marko's trembling shoulder. He patted him hard, a gesture of profound respect, an embrace imbued with an almost brotherly affection. This raw, unfiltered way of expressing emotion was something Mr. Dragić, who had known only cold scientific detachment and betrayal, had never experienced. It filled him with an almost unbearable, ecstatic warmth.

"Oh, Dutch, thank you for your praise, I think what I need, perhaps, is these things..." Marko's emotions were a tempest, his words dissolving into choked sobs of sheer relief and gratitude. His emotional instability, however, was not an issue for Dutch.

After a moment, allowing Marko to compose himself, the scientist finally recovered enough to launch into an explanation of his invention's astounding principles.

His invention, he explained, was indeed based on the theoretical foundation of walkie-talkies, primarily utilizing the wondrous phenomenon of mutual conversion of electromagnetic waves. However, due to the frustrating lack of compact, portable batteries in this cursed era, all electromagnetic wave transmission required cumbersome, charged base stations.

And this very base station was the colossal, spherical steel tower looming in the center of the room, a testament to his ambition. The two small, disc-like objects were, in essence, receivers and converters, meticulously designed to capture and transform these elusive electromagnetic waves.

To put it bluntly, the current iteration of this marvel wasn't quite ready to conquer the world. Its range was limited to the confines of the ranch, tethered to the stationary base station. However, the theoretical framework was now undeniably interconnected. By simply installing batteries and making minor, ingenious adjustments to the internal structures to allow for built-in electromagnetic wave emission, true two-way communication could be achieved. Only then, Marko explained, would it be a true, untethered walkie-talkie.

"Damn it, Marko, I'm genuinely impressed with you now!" Arthur exclaimed, perched on a stool opposite Marko, with Dutch and Hosea beside him. He listened to Marko's complex explanation, utterly baffled by the scientific jargon but profoundly awed by the result. He still clutched the small, round black disc, refusing to put it down. From his reluctant, almost possessive grip, it was clear he harbored a subtle, undeniable urge to pocket the damned thing.

Dutch glanced at Arthur, immediately seeing the transparent desire in his eyes. With a playful smirk, he reached out and gently plucked the disc from Arthur's grasp.

"Oh, damn it, Arthur, I know what you're thinking just by looking at your eyes!" Dutch chided, a mischievous twinkle in his own.

Arthur, caught red-handed, rubbed his nose sheepishly. He indeed wanted to take this wondrous contraption back to Hope Ranch and astound Mary with it, perhaps even whisper sweet nothings into it while she was doing laundry, just to give her a good, hearty shock. But he dared not openly defy Dutch.

"It's alright, Dutch. You can give this to Arthur, it's very simple to make," Marko interjected, his generosity radiating from him. He harbored no fear that Arthur, Dutch, or any of the gang would betray his precious technology. He trusted Dutch to the point where he would accept even being deceived, so absolute was his faith.

"Give it to me, Dutch! Marko already said to give it to me!" As soon as Arthur heard this, his confidence surged. He lunged, snatching the small disc from Dutch's hand with unexpected speed, then chuckled, examining it in his palm.

"Dutch, Dutch, can you hear me?" Arthur cautiously spoke into the disc, his voice, surprisingly clear, emanating from another, identical disc tucked away in Dutch's pocket.

Dutch's face momentarily stiffened with surprise, then instantly contorted into a wide, theatrical smile. "Hahaha, look at me, I even forgot this disc was on me! Damn it, Arthur, it's all your fault! If it weren't for you, I might have remembered this earlier!"

"Hoo hoo hoo, Dutch, I saw you put it in your pocket with my own two eyes just now!" Marko, now feeling fully integrated into their playful dynamic, couldn't help but interject, a mischievous glint in his eye.

Hosea, a gentle smile gracing his lips, watched the three of them bicker, a rare moment of levity amidst the grand schemes and bloody realities of the Van der Linde Gang.