A TV School (Frankie Stein)

This story begins here.

Fred was surprised to find Frankie waiting on the steps. There was nothing surprising about his enthusiasm. What ten year old wouldn't want to mummify a bat? The surprise was that Phil was late. Phil woke up at 4 am and dashed out of her house at 5 in order to avoid her household staff. Fred would never understand why she didn't dismiss the staff, sell the house, and move into a nice condo, but to each her own.
Frankie took off for the third floor lab while Fred unlocked the front door and turned on a few lights. He wasn't expecting anyone else today, but occasionally Alan like to come and work equations on the glassboard.
Frankie had the bat in a tray and a dissection kit all laid out. Fred had to smile. he had been just the same at that age. In fact, his childhood pet--a cat named Ra--was in a papier mache casket on a shelf with other animal mummies he had made over the years.
Fred and Frankie set to work, and quickly removed the sacred organs. Fred was reaching down a jar of dessicant when the sound of a door slamming distracted him.
"I'll be right back. You can begin prepping the body for immersion."
Fred headed to the stairs to see where the sound was coming from and startled a young man. Dressed in jeans and a crisp, blue t-shirt, Balder Sharp was poking around in the school.
"Hello, I knew there had to be someone around, but the building is so still it was hard to imagine it. I'm B. Sharp of Blair Productions. I'm here to draw up a layout of the school and begin planning how to light and film the show here."
"So, Phil went ahead with it. Welcome to Sonrise. I'm Fred Spurgeon, professor of logic and whatever else the children get interested in. Today I'm teaching a young man how to properly mummify a bat. Is there any way I could help you?"
"I need to know how you use this building, so I can figure out how to film the show. If you could give me a tour, I'd greatly appreciate it."
"Certainly, let me get our bat comfortably settled in the natron and then Frankie and I will pretend to care about the ceremonial incantations. After that, I'm all yours."
"Thanks. I'll come find you."
"Third floor, history lab, take a right at the top of the stair and keep going until your nostrils scream."
Sharp continued measuring the rooms while he waited. The school was beautiful in its simplicity. The only complications to the very straightforward planning were the giant towers on the corners of the building. He had found the Southern tower locked, but the Northern tower had contained a chapel on the first floor and an art studio on the second.
He slogged through the endless classrooms on the second floor. They seemed little used, but well maintained. The third floor was a mess. Rooms were completely given over to an endless, ratty clutter. There were some slight indicators of order--racks of costumes, rows and rows of file cabinets, jars of chemical and art supplies--but the overall impression was one of filthy chaos.
He began to appreciate the comment about his nostrils screaming. There was a definite odor that began to make itself unavoidable as he drew closer to the history lab. Gagging, he entered the room.
The professor and his student were deeply involved in some ritual and they didn't seem to notice Sharp at all. The room was very orderly. He proceeded through time as he circled the walls.
He settled himself in the cold war section because it was the most down wind. Fred and Frankie finished up and Frankie headed for the stairs.
"Wait a minute, Frankie. How'd you like to slide down the library and out?"
"Really, Dr. Spurgeon?"
"Certainly, I need to give Mr. Sharp a tour and the library is the best part, right?"
"Right!"

This story continues here.