Breaking Reality

A letter was delivered by standard post, early 2020, addressed to Dr. Joseph P. Ingraham, Cornell University. The letter was intercepted by the United States Postal Inspector, in conjunction with the Homeland Security. The FBI was informed, as well as the CIA, and the NSA. An investigation was done, completed, and filed. By the time the letter made it to Dr. Joseph P. Ingraham, it had been in the possession of nine different government agencies, and inspected no less than fifteen times.

"Dr. Ingraham?"

"Yes?" The doctor said, turning about and addressing the man who had spoke his name. "I'm Dr. Ingraham. How can I help you?" The man who had addressed him looked young, cocky, and professional. His eyes were hidden behind a pair of thick black sun glasses, and the top button of his suit jacket was undone. No tie.

"I have a letter for you," the man said, reaching into his jacket.

Ingraham gave the man an apprehensive look, stepped back. He had no way to defend himself if this was a trick, or possibly an assassination attempt. Inwardly, he cursed himself for not carrying a pistol.

The man pulled out a smooth white envelope and offered it, arm outstretched, expectantly.

Ingraham hesitantly reached out, and then took the letter. He kept his eyes on the man, rather than focusing on the letter. "What is it?" He asked.

"I don't know Doc. We were kind of thinking you might help us out with that." The man looked down at the letter in his hands. Joe decided this might not be something nefarious after all, and looked down at the letter.

It was quite unremarkable as letters went. Simple, white, standard letter size. The envelope was just a shade off-white, immaculately clean, a stamp affixed to the upper right hand corner, slightly out of alignment. The address was written, not typed or printed. The ink was black, and the letter was addressed to him, Dr. Joseph P. Ingraham, Cornell University, Energy Research Department. There was no return address, no identifying information, nothing else to give any indication of who had sent the letter, where it had come from.

"Who's it from?" Joe asked.

"Don't know. Are you expecting a letter from someone?"

"No," Joe said, and then he looked back up at the man, trying to glean anything from the look on his face. When that failed, he asked, "Who are you?"

"Jack Frongus, National Security Administration."

"So, not the post office," Joe said. It was more of a statement than a question, and he waited for some sort of explanation, or at a minimum, a confirmation.

"Joe-, May I call you Joe?"

"You can call me whatever you want," Joe said, growing bored of the air of secrecy here. "I've got a lot of work to do. Do you need something else?"

"A minute of your time," Jack said.

"I'm, kind of busy," Joe said, not wanting to be late for work. His department did not look kindly upon tardiness.

"Don't worry. Dr. Wallinger has been informed of our meeting, and that you'll be delayed."

"Dr. Wallinger?" Joe asked skeptically. "You think that's going to do anything?"

"No. But when we told him that Dr. Murphy and Dr. Sterinstren had already been informed, and they had approved the meeting, he didn't have much to say."

"How do you know Dr.-"

"Dr. Ingraham. Let me get to the point here. The letter you hold in your hand, is a matter of National Security."

Joe looked down at the non-descript, and now cryptic, letter, and then extended it out at arm's length to give it back. "I don't have time for this."

"You do. And you will. You'll have all the time you need. I've been assured of our cooperation."

"By who?" Joe asked.

"Why, the main funding partners for Cornell University. Mrs. Shelby and Craig Agamar. Jennifer Stropes. David Win-"

"So they're going to withhold funding if I don't... what?"

Jack gave him a petulant stare, and Joe felt his blood boiling, even though he couldn't see Jack's eyes. That issue was resolved a moment later, when Jack grabbed his glasses and removed them with a sharp jerk, flipping them closed and sliding them into his jacket's inner pocket. "We just need a little help, determining where the letter came from. That's all."

Joe retracted the letter, looked at it for a moment. He gently hefted it in his finger tips, noting its considerable weight and mild sturdiness. "It has no return address," Joe said.

"Quite the detective," Jack quipped and then gave him a cavalier smile when Jack glowered at him. "With no return address, we're left with just one lead. The addressee. That would be... oh right. You. Joseph P. Ingraham, Cornell Uni-"

"University, yes," Joe said, cutting the man off, irritated that he was being so smug, as if Joe owed him his cooperation. Didn't he know what they did here? Didn't he know how important his work was? And this... some stupid letter. Why was it so important anyway? He decided he'd be here all day long if he didn't take charge of the conversation, and even if he had gotten permission to be late, or even absent, any time away from the lab just meant more work would be waiting for him when he got back. Work, and discoveries, waited for no man, or woman for that matter.

"What we need-" Jack began.

"What you need is, to get to the point. I've got a lot of work to do. And if you're going to keep beating around the bush and not getting to the point, you can have this letter back and you can discuss it with the donors, the dean, the janitor for all I care. I've about had my fill of this for today."

"The letter triggered a variety of early warning systems," Jack said, taking a step closer, as if what he was about to say was something secretive. "Rews, under, linder, norad... all of them."

Joseph struggled to keep the confusion off his face. REWS was a radiation warning system used by the government, and NORAD was an international military organization, but the other two words Jack had said, sounded like gibberish. Maybe he was trying to make this sound more important that it was. Either that, or, he knew a lot more about whatever this was, than Joe did. In that moment, he realized not just that Jack had given him information... but that it pertained to the letter in his hand. His hand.

"What are you doing?" Jack exclaimed as Joe let go of the letter and stepped away from it.

"You gave me a radioactive envelope!?" Joe admonished him loudly. "Are you an idiot or just that dumb!?"

"The letter isn't radioactive!" Jack said, darting forward and picking it up off the ground.

"You said-"

"I said it set off early warning systems! A bunch of them. But when we tested it, it came back negative. We already opened it, tested it for all the usual suspects; Anthrax, Ricin, Fenty, Batrachotoxin, Cardiotoxin, Botulism, Cocaine, LSD, Heroin. All negative."

"Why would you test it for Heroin?" Joe asked, and then, "never mind. I don't need to know. I don't want to know. So tell me what this is about."

"Well, it's about you. The letter. It's addressed to you."

"Big deal. I have tons of junk mail addressed to me. You know how much mail I actually read?"

Jack smirked and handed the letter out for Joe to take. "I could give a shit about your junk mail. Here, take it. Analyze it. Keep it safe."

"Why do I need to keep it safe?" Joe asked, not taking the letter.

"Look. I'm doing you a favor! My instructions were clear. Deliver the letter, make sure you take it, make sure you keep it, and make sure you look at it. Telling you all of this is... extra. I don't have to be nice. I'm not paid to be nice. In fact, I'm paid to be not-nice. So take the fucking letter, and do your job."

"Reading your letter is not my job," Joe said, turning away. He was already later than he'd ever been before.

"Joe! Hey, Joe," Jack said, rushing after him. "Look, I- I need you to take this letter. I... I'll get fired if you don't."

Joe stopped and turned back to glare at Jack.

"Come on. Look, here," Jack said, pulling out another thin envelope and a small black case. He pressed the side of the case, and it flipped open as if spring loaded, and he retrieved a black glossy business card from within. "Here's my contact info. Here's the..." he lowered his voice, and spoke in a tone that conveyed, not secrecy, but an admission that he should have given this letter to Joe, first, "the instructions."

Joe took the items and glanced over them. The business card was hard and sharp, jet black with gold raised wording. An extravagant expense to be sure, for such a small and mundane thing. Joe wondered if the wording was actually made of real gold as he flipped the card over and then pocketed it in the front of his lab coat. The "instructions" letter was much more plain, yet the words and the header made it perfectly clear that this was not some joke, or some run of the mill prank. this was the real deal. Joe read it as quickly as he could.

You have been selected by the United States Department of.... blah, blah, blah... In accordance with your past enlistment with the United States Military.... Joe groaned inwardly, cursing the day he had signed up for the delayed entry program, and the two years he had served in the U.S. Coast Guard. If you cannot be compelled to do this out of honor and dedication to your country, then you will be recalled to active duty, in accordance with the powers granted in the Emergency Congressional-

"They're going to draft me?" Joe said, looking up at Jack with a sneer.

"No. No, they won't have to," Jack said. "Well, they don't have to anyway. You served in the military so, they can pretty much recall you to active duty at any time. But they won't, if you just do what they want you to do. Take the letter, inspect it, do whatever you do... you know. Science that thing."

Joe felt a little bit of himself die inside every time someone used the word "science" as a verb or adverb, and this time was no different. "What am I supposed to do with it?" Joe asked.

"Read the instructions. Once you do everything they ask, then, yer done. Just... there's a number on the bottom of the page. Call them, and they'll send someone to pick it up, and it'll be done."

Jack turned around and began hurrying away in a brisk walk without another word. Joe watched him go, and then noticed a small envelope, about the size of a business card, had fallen out of Jack's pocket. He stepped forward, bent down and picked it up. Another blank envelope, smaller this time, no words or lettering. Absolutely non-descript. Joe started to call out, to inform Jack that he'd dropped it, but then he stopped. Was this part of the whole thing? And then he thought, maybe Jack had dropped it on purpose. He pulled the tiny envelope open and pulled a single layer paper out, sized perfectly to fit inside unfolded. There was an eight digit number centered on the paper. 73442895

Joe thought about it for a moment. It was too short to be a phone number with area code, too long to be a phone number without an area code. 8 digits. Same length as a byte. Not zeroes and ones though. Money? No. A code then. An encryption. A cipher to crack an encryption. But what encryption? And to what end? Joe looked around, and saw nobody else in the plaza. Strange, even though classes had started and most people were inside, there were always people coming and going, but not now. Now, he was the only person on campus... outside.

Joe turned and headed for the building's double doors. He put the cipher back in the envelope, and put it with the instructions and the letter to himself, into his lab coat's inner pocket.

He opened the double doors and stepped inside, and the scent of ionized ozone met his nostrils. This was home for him. The lab. The place he spent most of his days and most of his nights as well. He waited while the doors closed behind him, and the light from outside was extinguished with a double thud. Locks engaged and the doors in front of him opened automatically.

"Good morning doctor Ingraham," one of the guards named Tom greeted him. "Running-" he stopped speaking and glanced down at his monitor, and then hurriedly started typing on his keyboard.

"Late," Joe said, stepping forward. He shrugged his lab coat off and laid it on the conveyor belt system to his right, and as he did, the large metal rectangle that housed the metal detector, some ten feet in front of him, began screeching. A red light on top flared to life and began spinning. A blue light on the conveyor belt blinked on, then off, then on again, steady for a moment, and then off. Joe raised an eyebrow at the other two guards standing nearby. One of them he knew, a young woman named Mary. The other one always looked too serious to approach and strike up a casual conversation with, so he never had, and he didn't know his name. He turned back to Mary. "Technical difficulties?" He asked.

"I don't know what's going on," she said, glancing over at Tom.

"Can you walk through?" Tom asked, looking up from the monitor.

"Yep," Joe said, stepping forward. As he got closer to the detector, every light, indicator and whistle began going off. He stopped a foot away from going through. "Is this safe?"

"Yeah," Tom said in a confused tone. "We'll have to scan you after you come through. It's doing something screwy. I'm gonna have to call someone to have them come check it out."

Joe thought about the letter, and how Jack had said it set off early warning systems... a lot of them. If it was doing the same thing now, how could it not be radioactive? How?

He turned back to his lab coat and saw Mary pick it up. He found himself reaching out, as if to stop her, to warn her against doing so, but he stopped himself and Mary looked up at him, curious. Joe's mind raced. He was being suspicious. He was acting weird. He saw a moment of question in her eyes, a flinch. She was thinking about drawing her gun. Joe had to stop her.

"Hey, uh," Joe said in an awkward and sheepish tone of voice. "Do you, uh... think I could... uh... get your... number?" Joe let his hand drop. It was the only thing he could think of. The only thing. His face reddened. Mary was probably ten years younger than he was, and she was Hispanic, which Joe had never had any aversion to, but... it did seem awkward for him to be asking her for her number. Not to mention, she was very attractive, and Joe had never thought himself on the same level as any female he'd encountered, and so he'd never asked anyone on a date. Ever. His work was his companion. His loyal, faithful, never ending, companion.

Mary's eyes glanced up and down, giving him a once over, and then she scoffed, as if the idea of her giving him her phone number was completely ridiculous. She didn't grab her gun though, which was what Joe had been hoping for, and instead, she stepped to the sensor box on the conveyor belt, pushed his lab coat into it, and then hit the button on top. The lab coat disappeared into the machine and Mary looked at the monitor on top for a moment, and then hit the button to send his lab coat spitting out the other end. She wrote something down on a clipboard and then raised an eyebrow at him. Joe swallowed nervously. She made two slashing movements across the clipboard and then walked to the end of the conveyor belt and picked his lab coat up.

"Come on through," Tom ordered him.

Joe stepped through the detector. The moment his body broke the plane of the rectangle, all the alarms went quiet. He looked at Tom, who looked at the monitor, and then at Joe, and then back at the monitor. "All clear."

"You gotta get that checked," Joe said as he stepped forward.

"Yeah, we will," Tom said, and Joe reached out to take his lab coat from Mary. His fingers touched hers in that moment, and she glanced at him. There was a playful sparkle there, in the corners of her eyes. She batted her lashes and smirked. Joe blinked. Mary bit the side of her bottom lip and gave him a demure smile before turning around and walking back to her post, on the other side of the conveyor belt.

Joe realized he'd stopped breathing, and sucked in a deep breath. "Thanks everyone," he said before hurrying away, around the corner, and down the stairs to the lab which was located in the basement of the building. He slid his lab coat back on, checked his pockets, made sure he had his ID clipped to his shirt, his letter, his instructions, his cipher. He felt in the bottom pockets, to make sure they were empty, but found something in the right side. He pulled it out, brought it up to read it. In a feminine script, a name and phone number were written on a half sheet of paper. Two heavy lines were slashed across it, between the number and the name, and a two word message below them. Call Me.

Joe felt his mouth fall open, and then closed it before his spit escaped his lips. He folded the paper and stuffed it back into his pocket, suddenly feeling very lucky, and very excited, about... today. He found himself skipping down the steps, suddenly filled with energy and excitement. He got to the bottom of the stairwell and slapped his ID against the sensor. A loud "BAAAANK!" sounded and a red light flashed. Joe stepped back, alarmed at the refusal. "What the hell?" he said. He stepped forward, pressed his ID to the sensor again. Again it screeched at him, refusing him entrance.

He didn't want to press the call button and ask someone to open the doors for him. Doing such a thing would definitely cause issues. So what was he going to do then? A moment later, he had it. He pulled his lab coat off, held it out behind himself, turned, stretched forward, and pressed his ID against the sensor. It flashed red, green, red again, green again... green a third time. The doors unlocked with a loud clang. The alarm screeched again. A red light flared to life above the door, and then went out. Joe wasted no time in stepping through the doors and hurried away from the entrance before someone noticed, or could question what was going on. He slid his lab coat back on quickly, and buttoned it.

"Good morning Dr. Ingraham," a voice said in a slightly snide tone as he rounded the corner. "So nice of you to join us."

"Good morning," Joe replied to Wallinger, his immediate superior. "So, where are we at? Bring me up to speed."

Wallinger eyed him incredulously. "Oh, I'll bring you to speed," Wallinger said, giving the other lab technicians a look of superiority, the same look he gave when he was getting ready to chew someone out. "But first, explain your tardiness."

Joe gave him a sharp glare. "You know why I'm late. Dr. Murphy and Dr. Sterinstren-"

Wallinger raised his voice. "I've told you before, if you're going to be late, you clear it with me, directly!"

Joe took a deep breath, feeling particularly emboldened today. "And if Dr. Murphy and Dr. Sterinstren want to delay me, without telling you, then you'll have to take that up with them!" Joe retorted sharply, and then added, "directly!"

Wallinger's mouth fell open, along with the mouth's of almost half the staff in sight, and then he stammered, "I... I will. You can be assured of that."

"Good. Now, if you're done lording your superiority over us, can you bring me up to speed so we can proceed with the next test?"

Wallinger gave him a sour expression, but the looks he received from the rest of those in the lab, told him he'd been defeated, even if only temporarily. He turned away and then a moment later said, "we're ready to proceed. Ingraham, I'll need you to stand by at the focal point, behind the barrier, just in case anything needs adjusting."

Joe glanced at the spot where Wallinger had just suggested he "stand by". It was a small area, close to where they had been focusing the aperture of their newest muti-laser array. The spot was safe enough for the cameras and recording equipment, protected by multiple layers of heat, light and blast shielding. But for a human, Joe had his doubts and they showed in his expression.

"What's wrong? Not willing to take on a bit of risk for great reward?" Wallinger sneered. Joe narrowed his eyes at the man, but then turned and headed for the observation area. He hadn't exactly agreed to do Wallinger's bidding, but he would take a look for himself, make up his own mind whether he thought it was safe or not.

As Joe stepped around the cameras and the recording equipment, something punched him in the chest sharply, and he gasped in pain. "Owww!" He exclaimed in protest, and then turned, half expecting to see a thrown object rolling across the floor, but he saw nothing. He turned, looked over at one of the nearest lab technicians who gave him a questioning look.

"Did someone throw something?" Joe asked.

"No," the man said flatly, and the tone in his voice told Joe that he was telling the truth. Throwing things, especially in a lab that contained millions of dollars worth the equipment, was absolutely out of the question. It was something that none of them participated in, or condoned, which made it even more enigmatic for Joe. If nobody had thrown anything, who, or what, had hit him?

He tuned back to the observation post. Slowly, he inched forward until he was past the point he'd previously been, and then, inching forward, he went further. Two feet past his original point, he stopped, looked around, and then turned back. Whatever it was, it was gone. He stepped forward.

Something slammed him in the chest, throwing him backwards so hard, he hit the guard rail, flipped over it, and fell to the deck below the aperture. Amazingly, he landed feet first, the impact jolting him from his ankles all the way up to his groin, but his quick reflexes saved him from falling sideways, or from slamming into one of the million dollar laser emitters that stood just inches away.

"Joe!" He heard someone shout in alarm and the next thing he heard, hurried footsteps were slamming against metal flooring. A moment later, Andy came barreling down the stairwell, followed by David who slammed into him at the bottom of the stairs, not paying attention to the fact that Andy had come to a stop. Joe gave Andy an appreciative smile.

"Did you just fall?" Andy said, looking up at where Joe had just come from, and gauging the distance.

"How else did I get down here?" Joe said, straightening up and adjusting the front of his lab coat. "I... I must have slipped, or something."

"Fucking ninja jumped that shit," David said, a huge smile coming across his face with a look of amazement. "I saw you man! That was so sweet! You like, went up like this, and did a total back-flip, right over the rail! I- I'm surprised you didn't break yer god-damned neck!"

Joe cocked his head to the side, thinking something along the same line of thought. He was lucky. Damn lucky.

"I wish I coulda caught that on camera!"

"Powering up the generator," came a voice booming across the intercom system.

"We better get back to our stations," Andy said then, turning around. "Come on. Let's go!"

David didn't need to be told twice, and he turned and hurried back up the stairs. Andy followed him closely, and Joe came up behind the two men. Once they were back on the main level, Andy turned to him. "Look, I don't know what Wallinger is thinking but-"

"Yeah, no. I'm not going to stand out here while we fire a fifty mega-watt laser into a crucible of deuterium. I don't care how famous it might make me."

"Famous?" Andy said with a smirk. "You'll be a freaking tater-tot. Baked potato... a su-"

"What is it with you a potatoes?" Joe asked, cutting Andy off.

"I don't know. I just like em," Andy said, his long sandy brown hair and crooked teeth giving him the look of a potato loving hippy lab love child. "They're delicious."

"Come on," Joe said, motioning for them to continue up to the control room.

"Yeah. You're right. You know Wallinger re-calibrated the focal point, right?"

"What?" Joe asked, surprised. No, he hadn't known. More than that, Wallinger should have told him. The fact that he hadn't, and that he had told Joe to go stand close to the detonation point, had him nervous. Worried even. Was Wallinger setting him up? There were rumors of course, tales of how Wallinger had did away with lab rivals and people who had rubbed him the wrong way, but Joe had thought those were all works of fiction. Now, he wasn't so sure.

"Initiating countdown to detonation," the voice spoke over the intercom. Joe, Andy and David hurried up the last set of stairs, and into the control room. "Ten... Nine... Eight..."

"Hey Wallinger!" Joe said, closing the door behind him and locking it. Wallinger looked up from the monitor he was looking at. Joe flipped him the bird.

"Seven... Six..."

"What's wrong Ingraham?"

"Five... Four..."

"Afraid of a little sun burn?"

"Three... Two..."

"No," Joe said. He wasn't afraid of a sun burn, but he was afraid of being burned to ask in the blink of an eye.

"One... Initiating detonation."

Something hit Joe again, throwing him across the control room. Something exploded. Sparks and smoke filled the air. Sirens blared. People screamed and ran in every direction. Joe, struggling to get back to his feet, followed Andy and David to the back of the control room, towards an emergency exit. Andy slapped his ID against the security panel, but nothing happened. He screamed and slammed it home harder, using his entire palm like a ram to smash his ID against the sensor.

"Move!" Joe shouted, and he pushed Andy out of the way. He got within a few inches of the sensor and the lights above the sensor plate flickered red, then green, then red again. Joe reached out, pushed on the door, and the sensor flickered again. The door unlocked. He pushed it open.

They ran up the spiral stairwell, their feet barely touching the steps, until they were to the very top, and Joe, knowing this door would probably act just like the others, demanded he be the first through. He grabbed the handle, moved his chest forward and back, the sensor glitched out, unlocking and locking, back and forth rapidly, just as before. Joe pushed and the door opened as soon as the lock disengaged.

"There they are," Wallinger said loudly, pointing at them as they came through the door. Joe looked over to see Wallinger who had been speaking with one of the security guards who was writing something down. "It's all his fault. He was the one who recalibrated the lasers."

"The fuck I am!" Joe shouted at Wallinger, but he was quick to regain his composure and keep it. He'd let Wallinger run his mouth. In the end, the truth would set him free, and it would condemn all who sought to cloud the truth.

Joe, without saying a word, gave Andy a knowing look. The two of them found a quiet place to sit and wait while the powers that be, decided what to do about the incident.

Within moments, every department head and national agency was on scene. The FBI, the NSA, the Department of Energy, Homeland Security, the local police, the sheriff's department, fire, ambulance, SWAT teams and the head of of the Department of Counterterrorism as well. University Directors and donors alike, were called. Scientists with years more experience and credentials, arrived and debated about the best way to tackle the situation, what needed to be done, and how. A hazmat team was assembled. A breach team. An armed group of mercenaries ready to shoot anyone and everyone at a moments notice, were deployed as the front of the procession.

Joe, and Andy, remained seated as the huge team of more than a hundred man and a few women, prepared to re-enter the lab. David looked eager to go as well, but Andy advised him to sit tight and not go anywhere. "Leave it to the big-wigs," he warned. "The less they know, the less they can blame you for whatever happened."

"What did happen?" Joe asked, lifting his head and giving Andy a serious look.

"I don't know man," Andy said. "I heard the countdown... I heard it hit one. You gave Wallinger the finger... everything went to shit."

"I gave him the finger at eight seconds," Joe said.

"No," David interrupted. "I saw you man. It was like, three! Two! One! You flipped him the bird, and the... the thing, the deuterium just exploded."

"I didn't have anything to do with that," Joe said.

"You sure about that?" Andy asked.

"Yeah, I'm sure," Joe said.

Andy didn't say anything else, but it was clear he wasn't convinced. David on the other hand, looked as if he didn't care. He was just glad to be alive.

"I need another coffee," Joe said, standing up and walking over to one of the vending machines nearby.

"Me too," David said, and he got up and hurried over to stand just behind and beside Joe.

Joe was mildly annoyed at David, but his focus turned to the breach team as the opened the doors at the end of the corridor, and a hundred plus people streamed into the stair well, heading down to the lab.

"Dude. How much money did you put in the machine?" David asked, reaching down and yanking out a gigantic double hand full of candy bars and snack chips.

"What?" Joe said, stepping back and looking down. The machine sputtered. The light inside blinked on and off quickly. Circular wire hands spun on multiple levels and candy bars churned out, dropping like dead birds in a cage to "thunk" against the bottom drawer door. "Oh, shit."

"Dude, I got it," David said, dropping to the floor and using the front of his shirt like a makeshift bag, scooping candy bar after candy bar out into his waiting grasp. When he had more than he could carry, he hefted himself up and hurried over to the chairs where he deposited the snacks on an end-table and then went back for more. Joe walked back over to his chair and sat down, his mind no longer on coffee, or snacks.

"What the hell did you do?" Andy asked.

"Nothing. The machine is glitching."

"Not the vending machine, man. I'm talking about in the lab."

"Nothing," Joe reiterated. "I didn't do shit."

Andy sat there, staring at him for a long time, and then, as if convinced, nodded. "Alright. I trust you man. You're the only one who doesn't fuck with anyone."

Joe nodded. He didn't "fuck" with anyone. It wasn't in his nature. He was a straight shooter. Honest. Loyal.

"Everything okay?" a voice asked, and Joe turned to see a security guard approaching them. He looked up and then noticed it was Mary. She gave him a smile and then assumed a questioning stance.

"Yeah. Oh yeah. Nothing we can't handle," Andy said, trying to sound authoritative.

"We're probably all gonna get fired," David said, hurrying over with his final load of snacks, dumping them out onto the table. He grabbed a candy bar, and then a bag of chips, and held them out to Mary. "Want some chips?"

"No," Mary said, giving David a wry smile.

"You're such a strange duck," Andy said to David and then turned back to Mary. "Hi. I'm Andy. You look just like my fourth wife."

"Your fourth?" Mary said with just a hint of smile. "How many times have you been married?"

"Three," Andy said, and then he grinned widely, with an air of clever satisfaction on his face.

The smile on Mary's face went from that of being entertained, to one that couldn't be read, and then she walked over to stand beside Joe and then leaned over slightly. "My shift ends in about an hour. You wanna go grab lunch?"

Joe looked up and smiled. "Sure. Sounds great," he said, and then she put her hand on his shoulder affectionately. Joe's smile turned into something more triumphant as Mary let her hand linger for a moment before she said goodbye and walked away. Andy and David both watched her go, until she turned the corner at the end of the corridor, and then they exploded with questions and accusations.

"I don't-, I didn't-, I just-" Joe said, stammering his words out. "It just happened."

"Lotta luck you have," Andy said, noticing that the door to the stairwell had opened and people were now pouring out into the corridor. "You're getting fired for sure." David looked up from the twin candy bars he was consuming, a deer in the headlights look on his face. "You're right. You're getting fired too. But not me."

"Why not you?" David asked.

"Because," Andy said smartly. "I'm clever. And, I have a fail safe. I'm-"

Silence dropped over the trio as the group of scientists, researchers, university staff, local police, FBI, and other people Joe couldn't identify, came striding down the hall.

"Which one of you is Dr. Ingraham?" The man in the lead, a tall pale faced man with sharp glasses and a tiny mustache, questioned.

"That's all you dude," Andy said quietly, sitting back in his chair as if to remove himself from the conversation. Joe gave him a condescending smirk.

"I'm Dr. Ingraham," Joe said, standing up and extending his hand to shake the other man's hand. When the mustachioed man made no move to return the greeting, Joe let his hand drop.

"Did you orchestrate this?" the man asked.

"No," Joe replied.

"Joe was late to work today," Andy added, a half-hearted attempt to throw Joe under the bus. Joe glared at him, his eyes saying; I want to strange you right now. Andy added more fuel to the fire, "he wasn't in the lab for more than two minutes, maybe three, before Wallinger initiated the lasers."

More than one man in the group turned their attention to Andy at the mention of Dr. Wallinger's name.

"This is a gross waste of university resources," another man said, speaking up from the back of the throng. "Not to mention FBI, NSA, the Department of Energy, Homeland Security..."

"I-," Joe began to say, formulating his defense in his mind before putting it to words, but another man cut him off.

"This new generation, so worried about their social media profiles and how many likes they get, they have complete disregard for how much a prank like this actually costs the facility!"

"It wasn't a prank," Joe said then, hoping his serious tone would make them reconsider his role in the lab's destruction.

"How much damage is there?" David asked dumbly.

Joe turned to the man, wondering exactly how it was that he came to be in the lab at all, unless of course he was a former lab rat, and someone had successfully transformed him into a human being. That could explain it.

"There isn't any damage," someone else offered.

Joe turned to Andy who looked to David and then the three of them looked around, searching for Wallinger. All these university types, donors, FBI agents, NSA, whatever, they had no idea. None of them knew what to look for. None of them knew what actual damage looked like, or how to find it. But, Wallinger knew, and if he knew, and these people didn't, then that meant Wallinger was covering it up.

It wasn't until almost nine at night before Joe and the others were allowed to leave. They spent hours upon hours being grilled by every investigator and agency in the building and then, their ID cards and badges had been confiscated. Andy had asked how they were supposed to get into their rooms back at the dorms, but the people in charge couldn't have cared less. The only thing they cared about, was the lab.

As the trio of disgraced scientists made their way back to their rooms, Andy decided it was the perfect time to explain his actions. "Hey man, sorry about-"

"Shut it," Joe said, not even glancing at him. "I don't wanna hear it."

"No, you don't understand. My dad-"

"I don't care!" Joe reiterated. "You didn't have to say anything."

"I was trying to tell them, you didn't have anything to do with it! You weren't there long enough. It had to be Wallinger."

"No doubt," Joe said, moving to the right side of the walk-way as a group of students heading towards them, moved to the left.

"Man, this sucks," David piped up from behind them, and he slapped himself in the ear three times fast.

"What are you doing?" Joe asked, wondering if this was normal behavior for David, or whether he was scratching at imaginary fleas from a former life.

"My pods aren't working," David said, slapping his ear again.

"Jesus!" someone shouted from just a foot away, and Joe turned, thinking he had blindly walked into the way of the oncoming students, but when he saw a woman clutching her ear, and then a second person grimacing in pain, he knew something was wrong.

"Fuck!" David shouted, bringing Joes attention back to him. David quickly pulled something out of his right ear, and then his left, and then he tossed them on the sidewalk and then stomped on them. "Damnit!"

"What!?" Joe and Andy both asked at the same time.

"Those were a hundred dollars!" David said, kneeling down and picking them up.

"Shouldn't have stepped on them," Joe said, as if berating a child.

"You're freaking stupid," Andy said, and then he turned, and stared at the people who had just passed them. "What the heck?"

Joe turned and looked, and then stared as well. The group of five people who had just passed them, each of them wearing ear buds, headphones, or carrying a variety of electronic devices, looked as if they were waging war against the machines. Some held cell phones out at arms length, while others held earphones away from their heads, gently touching them back to their ears as if testing them to see if they worked.

"Weird," Andy said, turning back.

Joe didn't say anything, but his mind was on the envelope that he still held in the inside pocket of his lab coat. Was it possible that it was messing with people's electronics? Suddenly, a feeling of dread washed over him, and he started off quickly, making a bee-line for the dormitory doors.

"Hey!" Andy called after him, running to catch up. "What's the big hurry?"

"I've gotta take a shit," Joe lied, and he yanked the door open and hurried inside, ran up the stairs to the third level, turned the corner and rammed his key into the door's lock. Before he could think about it, he'd gone inside, locked the door behind himself, and torn his lab coat off, throwing it onto the counter by the sink.

Joe stood there for a long time, his brain assessing the situation. He pulled his shirt off and went to the bathroom, checked to see if the envelope and its proximity to his chest has caused any redness, irritation or inflammation. When he saw nothing, he went back out to his tiny dining room and sat down at one of the two chairs he owned. He sat there for a long time, until he realized he was thirsty, and he needed to get a drink.

Standing at the sink, Joe considered the envelope, and then chugged a glass of water before reaching over for his lab coat. He unfolded it, found the inner pocket, pulled the envelope out and slid it across the counter. He looked at it, inspecting it, even leaned over and peered at it from as close as he could possibly see, without distorting his vision.

"Ba-blink!" a chime sounded from his bedroom. Joe ignored it but when it chimed again, it reminded him that he had a way to test it. His phone was in his bedroom! Joe ran around the counter, slammed his foot into the leg of the chair he'd pulled out from the table and not bothered to push back in. He yelped, ran for the bedroom, grabbed his phone, and swiped his thumb across the screen, realizing only then, that it was ringing.

"Hello?" Joe asked.

"Hey, it's Mary," the voice said in a playful tone. "I was beginning to think you gave me the wrong number."

"Oh, hey. No. No, I-" Joe stopped speaking. Mary had his number. It was the correct number. But he hadn't given her his number. He'd asked her for her number... not the other way around. "I, uh..." Joe began to say, but Mary had already started speaking again.

"So, is it okay if I come over?"

"Come over?" Joe asked.

"Yeah. Actually, I'm at your door."

Joe stood up from his bed where he'd sat down, unconscious of his actions. He slowly walked out of his bedroom, headed towards the door, and then stopped. He turned, saw the envelope on the counter. It was open.

"Hold on a second," Joe said and he walked around the counter, looked down at the envelope, studying the paper within. Suddenly, the screen of his phone flared brilliantly, as if caught in some sort of magnetic field, and an array of colors swirled across the screen in a weird double whirlpool like pattern.

"Owww!" He heard a feminine voice from outside his door. "What the heck! Joe? What's going on? Why did you do that?"

Joe's phone made a sizzling sound and he jerked it away from the letter, hurried over to the door and unlocked it, pulling it open.

"Sorry. My phone is going screwy," Joe said, turning and stepping out the way. "You wanna come in?"

Mary took a step forward, and then paused, looking inside. She gave Joe a small smile and then asked, "you're not one of those crazy guys who ties their victims up and rapes them non-stop for like... a week, are you?"

Joe couldn't help but smile, and then tried in vain to remove the smile off his face because he felt it might make him look creepy, but her question had been quite absurd. "No," Joe said sheepishly, and then thought to himself, but what would a rapist say? They would say "no" of course. It was a loaded question. There was no other answer.

"Cause, I gotta work," Mary said, stepping into his apartment.

"Well, I have a job too," Joe said, closing the door behind her. He followed her to the table where Mary had gone, and watched as she took a quick look around. He watched as she glanced in the kitchen, and then she turned, walked toward the bedroom and took a look inside. He knew she'd seen the envelope on the counter but had not even bothered to look closer, which eased his mind a bit.

"You gonna lock the door?" Mary asked, turning back to give Joe a wry smile.

"Oh... uh, yeah," Joe said, turning back to the door.

"You know the majority of break-ins and theft is due to people leaving their things out, unlocked. Doors, safes, windows..."

Joe locked the door and then turned around. Mary was right there behind him, super close, looking up at him. He noticed her shoulders were bare now, and he realized that in the blink of an eye, she'd stripped her uniform top off and tossed it on the table. He blinked, confused, when he saw her pants and panties off to the side on the floor. She was completely naked.

Her hands came up, grabbed the sides of his face, and then her lips were on his. She kissed him aggressively, pushed him up against the door, her hands grabbed at his waist, found his belt buckle and ripped it back and forth, yanked it out of his pants like a whip and let it fly across the dining room to the floor behind them.

Joe fumbled as he tried to take his shirt off, but Mary didn't seem to care. She grabbed his right hand, pulled it up to her left breast, showing Joe what she wanted. He squeezed her and she groaned under his touch, pulled him away from the door, towards the bedroom. Joe stumbled, stepping out of his pants and boxers as he went. They were in the bedroom then, falling onto the bed in a tangle, kissing and groping each other's bodies in a haphazard exploratory manner.

Joe's fingers ran over her privates which were extremely smooth and soft, and Mary gasped, her hand jerked down to between her legs, and she pressed his fingers against herself. In the next moment she was grabbing his erection, rubbing it against her. Her mouth opened breathlessly, as if an indicator that she was open in other places, ready for him. She groaned in an animalistic way as he entered her, pushing himself in as far as he could, showing her his size and strength.

Mary responded by pulling her legs up, grabbing hold of his back, and kissing him again. She whispered dirty words into his ear, urging him to do more, do things differently, instructing him on what she liked, and what she needed. He followed her words to the letter, and she writhed beneath him until they were both heaving with exhaustion and covered in sweat. And then, she was on top of him, and then back below him, on her side, on her stomach, her elbows and knees, back on top, below again.

Joe couldn't remember the last time he'd had sex, or rather he'd tried to put it out of his mind. It had been sometime in his high school years and he'd underperformed, at best. But this time it was different.

Mary gasped again, and then smiled at him as they continued. Joe turned, looked at the LED clock on his nightstand, and saw that is said 8:00 which was strange because the light coming in through the window was getting brighter, not darker. Mary wrapped her legs around him, pulling him into her, and kissed him again. "You can cum inside me," she said quietly, her eyes sparkling and her hair matted against her face.

"You sure?" Joe asked. Joe wasn't wearing any protection and he wasn't sure if Mary was taking anything either. He had the standard worries of course, but he wasn't ready to be a father. He'd made that decision a long time ago. He'd wait until he was successful, and ready to retire, before doing that.

"Yeah," she said, giving him a reassuring smile. "I'm on the pill," she giggled, and then she grabbed hold of him, rolled him over, and climbed on top. She ground her body against his, periodically leaning forward to kiss him, and then back, taking him into her as deeply as possible, grinding again, moving her hips in a way that made Joe thank his lucky stars that he'd asked her for her number.

Mary groaned and Joe felt his body start to tense, his manhood swelling, and Mary bit her bottom lip, looked down at him, and grinned as he exploded inside of her. She continued gyrating on him, moving constantly, until both of them were grunting and gasping from the intense feelings of super sensitivity after climax. Only then, did she fall over, exhausted, curling up next to him, and then crawling up a bit to give him one last kiss. "You were amazing," she smiled.

"You too," Joe said and he grabbed the sheets from the side of the bed, and pulled them over the both of them.

"Ugh. I'm sorry. I... I have to go," Mary said, pulling the covers around her and looking into Joe's eyes with a look of wanton lust. "Work," she said.

"Work?" Joe asked, looking back at the clock. "It's only eight thirty."

"Oh shit!" Mary said, tossing the sheet back and sliding out of bed. She stood up, bent over, gave him another kiss and hurried out of the bedroom.