Gustav-Otto was busy with his work. He firmly believed that the inventing of what he called "helpful vapors" would alter the amount of starch in his test subjects and therefore change their behavior. It was his gift to the human race and science, or so he would have contended if he understood that anyone questioned his work.

Finally, after much experimentation, two volumes on the chemistry of starch in the human digestive tract, and uncounted lectures at the University, Gustav-Otto invented a vapor that made everyone who smelled its aroma abjure forthwith all forms of armed conflict. He thought his scientific contribution to mankind was at hand and immediately presented it to the Kaiser in Berlin. His Imperial Majesty's handsome face changed color, his eyes sparkled, his mustache twitched, his crippled left arm jangled his saber, and he immediately forthwith lectured Gustav-Otto on the glorious necessity of war. War created opportunities for heroism, presented a wondrous chance for physical exercise, and actually decreased international tensions by shooting all the opponents of His Imperial Majesty.

Gustav-Otto returned to Heidelberg by the next express train and concocted a new vapor, an elixir that made those who breathed it mad for war. He then released it into the atmosphere while singing, "Der Kaiser ist ein gut mann...!" Of course, World War I was the result.

As that conflict did not turn out as the Kaiser so earnestly hoped, Gustav-Otto was called upon to save the empire. He outdid himself. He invented an entirely new vapor that forced everyone in the Imperial officer's corps to think of a new form of warfare—trench warfare. Perhaps he was thinking of the effects of starch applied to what had at first been a war of movement. Unfortunately the enemies of the Fatherland soon stole his idea. Alas, there are no secrets in war—especially a war with Mata Hari working overtime on her...ah...fact-finding endeavors—and by their counter use of trench warfare they held off the Empires invincible legions just long enough for Germany to lose the war.

Disillusioned by his immense failure, especially after Field Marshal von Hindenberg himself said to him (as the Kaiser's train into exile puffed away from the station platform), "Gustav-Otto, dis ist dine fault!," (whether the august hero meant that our unfortunate scientist was guilty of the start of the war or the loss of the war, or both, did not matter much at this stage.) Gustav-Otto decided to test and re-test every new vapor he concocted.

A new nostrum soon appeared. In hopes of renewing love in a broken world, our scientist wrought, after only a few years intense work, that for which mankind had sought for millennia—a love potion. It was to be used as a nasal spray and affected the starch in the pituitary gland, altering how the subject perceived himself . But Gustav-Otto's problem remained, how to test it without bringing on global calamity?

He decided that he would perform an infallible test: he would get someone who was appearing on those new things called movies to test it. If someone on the silver screen could translate his new sense of self to millions of strangers in unhygienic movie halls, millions who could neither hear his voice nor be attracted or repelled by any stray pheromones, then his concoction would be a resounding success!

That is why Gustav-Otto hied himself to the other side of the world, to California, in fact, to Hollywood, in the United States. He tested his new product on a new immigrant to America as a further control on his test. If a foreigner could attract American film audiences, then Gustav-Otto could rest assured of his research findings.

Alas, the result did not turn out quite as planned. Oh, it was a success for the audience...a resounding success. The test subject thrilled his audiences. In fact, he became almost as a love god to them. The only draw back was, unfortunately, that Gustav-Otto's latest elixir had a totally unforeseen effect on the test subject—it turned the unfortunate man, popularly known as Rudolf Valentino, into a homosexual.

Discouraged, poor Gustav-Otto sat in the California sunshine and pondered his next move.