West of Nothing

34. Power Nap

Mason had died and gone to geek heaven. He had access to all the latest tech and a stimulating challenge to solve. He had no distractions like homework or chores and, with Lip-Fuzz at the helm of the food cart, he didn't even have to heat his own Ramen. Best of all, he got to rub shoulders with the smartest people he had ever met.

Yet the deeper the project delved into the arcane fields of chemical biology, materials science and artificial intelligence, the more Mason began to feel like an impostor. He didn't fancy himself a genius but had always felt himself to be the mental equal of any of his classmates. He had once taken and passed an upper level course on string theory under a notoriously difficult professor just to prove to himself he could. That same semester, he received a C in art history. But now he was applying every ounce of his mental energy and still falling farther behind the pack.

Sure, he had scored some key insights early on when the pickings were easy, but the work had changed from frenzied improvisation to a trial of patience. Now it was down to the real scientists and their pry-into-the-nature-of-reality machines. Maybe Shouter had been lucky to leave when he did. Perhaps it was time for Mason to bow out gracefully before he became irrelevant, or even a hindrance.

He had spent the last ten minutes in the bachelor pad mulling over his decision when there came a knock at the door.

"Come in, there's no lock," he said.

It was Corny. "Rough day at the office?"

"You could say that."

"Mind if I come in?"

"Mi casa es su casa."

"You call this a casa?" She rolled a swivel chair over next to his and collapsed into it. She looked just as beat as he was.

"It's nicer than my dorm room. At least the AC works and it doesn't smell like dirty socks."

"About that last part..."

"Those are the socks I have on. The smell follows me. How did you know I was here?"

"Your guard escort is standing outside the door. Anyway, I thought you might need a little cheering up."

"Would that involve any sympathy sex?"

Corny shoved the back of his chair so hard it nearly pitched him onto the floor. "Was that supposed to be a joke?! What do you think we are, classmates hanging out at the student fucking union? We are co-workers. Do you know what that means? It means that shit will get you written up for sexual harassment and thrown out on your ass. So knock it off! Or do you really want to go around being called Peeper for the rest of your life?"

There was no correct answer to that question. What Mason needed now was not a good apology but a fallout shelter.

Corny rocked forward in her chair as if to get up but, after a tense pause, leaned back and let out a long breath. "Goddammit, why'd you have to go and set me off like that?"

Mason stared into the drop ceiling, his breath wheezing through his one working nostril. He could smell the faint reek of whatever gel she used on her hair intermingled with sour coffee breath. Still an improvement over dirty socks. When he thought it was safe to speak again, he said, "You really came to cheer me up?"

"Yeah, kind of rethinking that decision though. God, you really don't have any mental filters do you?"

"As you can see, it's done wonders for my social life."