Like Orion & Spark

7: So Heroic, So Humble

In the span of a few days, the news of the hero who saved a life had spread, and it was impossible to go five minutes without hearing about it.

Gabriel brought the newspaper every time he worked, and I read through the articles every time. The hero—Almighty, the paper was calling him—took up the front page for days. He hadn't stopped; from saving a woman from a house fire to apprehending a thief stealing wallets. Where there was stupidly petty crime, Almighty was there to use his powers, strike a pose, and smile for the camera.

After spending the night agonizing about how I wasted my chance with Kieran, I trudged through the halls after an early morning lecture. I scheduled a meeting with the director of the biology program; I figured declaring my concentration might take me one step closer to figuring out what the hell was up with Astral City, what the hell was up with me.

The question on the poster of the clinic was lodged in my mind, and I couldn't seem to shake it. Did you know you could be the next greatest hero?

I knocked on the director's office and entered. Like every other aspect of Sainte-Marie, the room was no different. The wooden floors creaked beneath my feet; it smelled like being inside a dusty library, as though the whole building had gotten stuck in the sixteenth century and hadn't quite figured out how to leave.

The director—judging by the plaque on her desk, her name was Lynn Dormer—was sitting in her rolling office chair, the wheels scratching the floor below, leaving a streak of white. The only source of light came from a single lamp propped near a bookshelf packed to the brim with textbooks. She could have been writing with a quill and ink, and I wouldn't have batted an eye.

"Please, take a seat." She motioned to the spindly chair facing her desk. The cushion provided as much comfort as sitting on cold metal, which is exactly what it was. "It's great to see a student taking my program. I don't get to meet a majority of those who choose to enter the science field—there isn't enough time in the world for that. Now, I remember from your email, you're here to declare your field of study?"

When she said email, what she actually meant was the printed piece of paper that was sitting somewhere among the piles stacked to infinity on her desk. In order to get my meeting scheduled, I'd first tried to drop by her office. When that didn't work, I sent an email. It turned out my email was rerouted to the only staff member young enough to use a computer properly, who printed it out and formally delivered it to the director on my behalf. Remember what I said about the sixteenth century? Yeah, that.

"Yes, I'm a biology major," I answered. "I'd like to get into genetics. There's still so much we don't know, and I think it could make a great final report. I don't know about finding work, but..."

She nodded along with my words, not looking up from her work. "Genetics? That sounds familiar. I'm sure I heard something about that... give me a second."

The director rifled through her papers. She picked up the stack and placed it back down, and then repeated this process a second time. From the bottom of the pile, underneath a folder and shoved between sticky notes and a notebook filled with cursive handwriting that I suspected might be hexes, was a business card. She triumphantly pulled it out. At the top was an acronym; MARS. The typed text underneath it explained this stood for the Molecular and DNA research system.

"Now, this place might be too advanced for a student looking to learn the basics, but you never know. I'm sure a professor is looking for an understudy. I would take your resume over and drop it off. That's a strategy that's worked for years. Nothing can beat that. If you want to gain experience in the field, I recommend this place. They've got the best technology, and it's local."