Our race. Pencils at dawn. I have a major work event, and sudoku will be my brain warm-up.
Ethan
Deal.
He’d certainly need a way to condition his own brain and stabilize his anxiety on the morning of the visit, too. Yes, he’d spent weeks assembling white papers and holometer data displays for the occasion, and he knew his numbers inside and out. Those preparations had been made with Bunsen at his feet and Ted Chiang’s short stories at his elbow, though. Neither would be with him at SVLAC on Friday. But Dr. Kramer would be. Dr. Kramer, who expected nothing but excellence from him because he knew what Ethan was capable of, if only he applied himself to their research—
Ping.
Forster
You’d better get yourself a Big Game training regimen.
Again, he breathed. Despite her dare, the knots in his stomach eased.
Ethan
Making good on the Stanford–Berkeley rivalry.
Forster
Yes. Be warned: I show no mercy to my rivals.
Ethan
A menace.
Forster
To my enemies and my brothers. But I’ll always go to bat for my friends. Pick your strategy wisely.
Ethan
I will.
Forster
It’s probably for the best that we’ve never met in the real world. We’d be enemies on principle.
…oh.
Probably for the best.
Probably.
She’d mentioned a work event on Friday, toeing their lines of separation…
Couldthey meet…?
Brrrriiinng!
His desktop phone shrilled.
Incoming Call:Dr. John Kramer
Hurriedly closing his personal messages, he opened a spreadsheet on his monitor and reached for the phone. Fortunately, the holometer data set for Table 5 in the grant application was the random file that expanded across his screen. Not that Dr. Kramer could see it. But he stared at the numerical cells and graphs anyhow—focus—as he picked up the receiver, standing at attention when his desk chose that moment to vacillate between heights. “Dr.—”
“You’re late. Check your inbox, Meyer.”
