Adam watched as his friends continued down the hall, stopping to chat with other people farther along. He turned back to his table and almost bumped into a man who seemed to have intentionally chosen to stand directly behind him. Adam thought to make a comment but held his peace. Without even so much as turning from the handout he was reading, the man spoke.
“Very interesting work, young man. Much more than a robot to pour your coffee.”
“Thank you?” replied a puzzled Adam.
He looked the stranger over: he had short black hair, a short and neatly trimmed beard and mustache, round glasses, a very tan complexion, and wore a simple yet sharp casual attire of khakis and a sky-blue button-down shirt.
After a moment it dawned on him.
“You’re Dr. Julius Mythos, aren’t you?”
“I am,” replied Dr. Mythos. “And I presume that your name is Adam Chase,” he stated, clearly referring to the handout on the table.
Adam nodded.
“Decomposable nanobots,” the scientist said with a gesture to the paper in his hand. “The applications for biological interfacing with such an apparatus are quite endless.”
Adam nodded again.
“My main focus with the project was obviously criminal investigation, but I did consider those possibilities when I began working on the project,” he commented.
“I actually just recently read about your current projects in genetic experimentation,” he added after a brief pause. “I am always intrigued by such projects, but my older brother is in law enforcement, so that influenced the application for the nanobots.”
Dr. Mythos adjusted his glasses.
“Despite seemingly countless years in the field of genetics research, my current experiments have proven to be quite the challenge,” he stated. “I am having difficulty writing a particular gene-code algorithm necessary to complete the project.”
He waved a hand dismissively.
“But I’m sure that it would all be over your head.”
Adam was slightly puzzled and taken back by the comment but shrugged it off.
A faint beeping suddenly caught the doctor’s attention. He reached into his pocket and removed his phone. He read the message on it, then spoke again.
“If you will excuse me: I have something I need to take care of.”
He pocketed his phone again and left without so much more as a ‘goodbye’.
“Must be late for something,” Adam commented to himself.
“I always thought he’d be nicer, but I guess not...”
Meanwhile, Lance had just reached his vehicle in the university’s vast parking lot, his vehicle having more of the appearance of a small SUV than a pickup. It was a cobalt blue hatchback sport model truck with black accents, the sunlight glaring off its partly tinted windows. He unlatched the wheel carrier on the back of the truck, swung it over, and opened the hatch. Quickly rifling through a few different bags, he found what he was looking for: a small wireless battery charger, just in case he needed it for L.A.S.S.I.’s console. He looked around once more and decided to grab his set of precision tools as well.
“I have no clue why I didn’t grab you earlier,” he said, as if speaking to the small nylon case as he strapped it to his belt.
He closed up his truck, and as he was latching the wheel carrier, he caught the sight of someone walking through the parking lot. There was nothing unusual or outstanding about the act as much as the person. Lance could have sworn he had seen that particular man somewhere but wasn’t sure where.
The man turned his head and locked glances with Lance. The stranger was dressed entirely in black, wearing a sleeveless shirt and sport sunglasses. The mysterious man looked away and continued on his way, running his hand once over his short, dark brown hair.
Lance couldn’t see the man’s eyes due to his sunglasses but noticed a red cobra and some sort of triskelion tattooed on his arm. From the distance Lance could see another person exiting the events building who met up with the first man, this one wearing a lab coat. After they talked briefly, the two made their way to a silver car parked near the walkway. Lance asked himself once more, attempting to recollect who the tattooed man was, but it didn’t come to him.
Lance shook his head and headed back towards the events building. When he reached the entrance pavilion, he noticed a family making their way towards the doors as well: a middle-aged couple and who he presumed to be their three daughters. Lance quickened his pace slightly, reaching the door first to hold it open for them.
“Why, thank you, kind sir!” said the wife as she and her husband walked through first, the girls following behind.
As they entered, Lance realized one of them was one of the new students that semester.
“Hey, I’ve seen you around with Noel, haven't I?” he queried.
“Um... yes?” answered the girl.
“Melody, right?” he asked again, the two still standing in the doorway.
“Yes...” answered Melody shyly.
“A few friends and I, including Noel, are all getting together later at the Brewer’s Café,” informed Lance. “Did Noel mention it to you?”
“No, she didn’t,” replied Melody, still speaking timidly, and even more so after realizing her family had stopped to wait for her and were looking on.
“Well, you can join us if you would like,” stated Lance as he finally realized he was still holding the door. “I’ll reprimand Noel later for not inviting you sooner,” he added with a grin as he stepped in from the doorway and to the side to avoid a passing group.
“Ok,” said Melody. “I should be able to.”
She glanced over at her sisters who were giving her teasing and playful looks.
“I need to get going,” stated Lance as he glanced at the time on his watch. “I have an entry here for the expo and need to set something else up before the meeting that is happening soon.”
“Alright. I’ll see you later,” said Melody.
She watched as Lance walked briskly down the hall back towards his table, then quickly stepped to where her family waited.
“He seemed nice,” noted her mother. “What’s his name?”
“I think it is Lance,” replied Melody. “He didn’t say it himself, but he knows my friend Noel, and she talks about a guy named Lance pretty often.”
“He isn’t her boyfriend, is he?” asked her father.
“Oh, no,” replied Melody quickly. “That would be Scott, but they are all very good friends from what I hear.”
“He seemed cute,” noted one of her sisters playfully. “He probably likes you!”
“Oh, stop it!” demanded an embarrassed Melody.
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