「 The Professor & I 」VOLUME II

(322) Alcatraz Facility

Charles' POV

Despite the comprehensive information I gathered studying Hank's documents on the journey into SFO, our cordial hostess still radiated with a strange aura—baffling, and almost dark. With conscious restrain, however, I steered away from her mind as she chaperoned Hank and I towards the covert facility.

Surely, the two had moderated their previously brisk strides to match my pace as I struggled on the rocky road but their fundamentally considerate gesture was not altogether deplorable. A couple of suited guards conscientiously swung open the large doors we approached and through the entrance were ceramic tiles that instantly felt like heaven.

Self propulsion spontaneously transformed into a breeze but before I could smile at it, I was frowning.

My telepathy was effectively severed from the outside world once the doors were sealed. On hindsight, the scarcity of psychic noise in the immediate vicinity was apparent upon landing and would have been persuasive warning if my attention had not been wholly channeled to moving forward whilst preserving my balance.

The reduced levels of disturbances in my head, now confined to just within the building, was actually soothing, apart from the fact that it probably already scared the hell out of Lynn.

Guilty that she was abruptly cut off, my heart itched with a desire to appease but the easily conceived rationale behind the sudden termination was a little more forgiving. I was eventually distracted by the tour Dr. Rao was very kindly conducting as she escorted us into every room we passed, patiently introducing the work performed in each one.

Mass production lines spanned over the ground floor where the purified cure was mechanically-packaged into its commercial form and stacked into massive crates before being shipped back to the mainland. More specialized units, varying from research centers to data analysis, were scattered on the upper levels, ascending in the order of confidentiality.

As she ushered us into the quality control department ranging about half of the entire second storey, Hank and I were profoundly awed by the state-of-the-art instruments within.

The large office boasted the latest mass spectrometers, liquid and gas chromatography columns, nuclear magnetic resonance machines and basically every device on the market capable of structural determination.

It was the ultimate chemist's dream.

Certainly enthralled, Hank's mind burst with exuberance. Totally unknown to the weird stares we were yielding, he grinned and nodded fanatically as Dr. Rao, equally excited, happily flaunted her precious gadgets, but honestly, I was similarly intrigued by her enthusiastic articulation.

Regardless that we had lost Hank briefly, she rambled on animatedly about their tremendous efficiencies and her avid monologue gradually evolved into an friendly debate as she delved into their recording accuracies.

At least until I heard the delightful name: Lynn.

"I'm sorry, that's my wife. Please, excuse me," I appealed in a affable tone, albeit shifting my eyes absentmindedly between her and Hank.

His lips were slightly parted and his eyes stared widely, practically like he was fazed as he blankly pressed his phone to his ear. Expeditiously, I wheeled up to him, noticing beneath the fur of his cheeks that they were rapidly reddening. His blush could have only been fueled by that many reasons and I flashed him a smirk as I gently reached for his mobile.