Chapter 2: THE MEETING FROM HELL
The Caltech campus was beautiful in a way that made me feel worse about everything.
Palm trees lined the walkways. Students carried books and laptops, moving with the easy confidence of people who belonged here. The buildings had that California Spanish architecture—red tile roofs, cream-colored walls, archways that probably photographed great for brochures.
I had no idea where I was going.
[BIOCHEMISTRY DEPARTMENT: BRAUN LABORATORIES. SOUTHEAST CORNER OF CAMPUS. DISPLAYING ROUTE.]
A glowing line appeared in my vision, overlaying the real world like a GPS from the future. I followed it, trying not to look like a lost tourist on his first day.
Which is exactly what I am.
[TECHNICALLY ACCURATE. RECOMMEND CONFIDENCE. WALKING SPEED INDICATES HESITATION.]
I walked faster.
The biology building was intimidating up close. Three stories of serious science happening behind tinted windows. I badged in at the front entrance—the scanner beeped green, which felt like a small victory.
The hallway smelled like that particular mix of cleaning solution and organic compounds I remembered from college chemistry labs. My body seemed to know the route; I followed the muscle memory left, then right, then up a stairwell.
Conference Room B.
The door was closed. Voices murmured inside.
I was twelve minutes late.
Great start.
[NOTORIETY IMPACT: MINIMAL. LATENESS IS SOCIALLY MEMORABLE BUT NOT SUSPICIOUS. PROCEED.]
I opened the door.
Fourteen faces turned toward me. A woman at the head of the table—middle-aged, sharp eyes, silver streaking through dark hair—paused mid-sentence.
"Dr. Cole."
Her voice carried the particular disappointment of someone who'd expected better.
"How generous of you to join us."
"Sorry." My voice came out steadier than I felt. "Traffic."
A few people exchanged glances. I found an empty chair near the back and slid into it, trying to make myself small.
[SPEAKER IDENTIFIED: DR. ELEANOR MARSH. DEPARTMENT CHAIR. TENURE COMMITTEE INFLUENCE: HIGH. RECOMMEND NOT ANTAGONIZING.]
Thanks for the tip.
Dr. Marsh resumed whatever she'd been saying—something about grant proposals and deadlines. I nodded along, pretending to follow, while the System fed me context.
[CURRENT TOPIC: NSF GRANT RENEWAL. COLE'S PROJECT ALLOCATED $180,000 ANNUALLY. DEADLINE FOR PROGRESS REPORT: OCTOBER 15.]
October 15. Three weeks away. I needed to produce a progress report on research I'd never done, using knowledge I barely understood, for funding I desperately needed to keep my job.
Normal Monday stuff.
"—which brings us to departmental updates." Dr. Marsh's gaze swept the room. Stopped on me. "Dr. Cole. How is your protein synthesis project progressing?"
Every head turned toward me.
My mind went blank.
[EMERGENCY PROTOCOL ENGAGED. ACCESSING INHERITED MEMORIES...]
[KEYWORDS AVAILABLE: PROTEIN FOLDING EFFICIENCY, AMBIENT ELECTROMAGNETIC CONDITIONS, P-VALUE SIGNIFICANCE, PRELIMINARY DATA PROMISING]
I grabbed the words and strung them together.
"We're seeing encouraging results with protein folding efficiency under varied electromagnetic conditions. P-values are holding under 0.001 on the most promising samples. Still preliminary, but the data's trending positive."
The words came out almost naturally. Like I'd said them before—which, in a sense, the previous Nathan probably had.
Dr. Marsh nodded slowly. "I'll expect detailed numbers in your October report."
"Of course."
She moved on to the next researcher.
I let out a breath I hadn't known I was holding.
[MISSION PROGRESS: COVER MAINTAINED. COGNITIVE STAMINA: 92/100. NICE WORK, HOST.]
Don't congratulate me yet. We're not out of here.
The meeting dragged on for another forty minutes. Budget discussions. Scheduling conflicts. Someone complained about broken centrifuges. Normal academic problems that I had no idea how to solve.
I kept my mouth shut and nodded a lot.
When Dr. Marsh finally dismissed everyone, I tried to slip out quietly.
"Nathan!"
I turned. A man about my age—sandy hair, friendly face, racquetball shoes visible under his slacks—was waving at me.
"Still on for Thursday?"
Thursday. Thursday. What happens Thursday?
[INSUFFICIENT DATA. INHERITED MEMORIES FRAGMENTARY. RECOMMEND AGREEMENT AND LATER INVESTIGATION.]
"Absolutely," I said.
The man grinned. "Excellent. I've been practicing. This time I'm taking you down."
"Looking forward to it."
I had no idea if I even knew how to play racquetball.
[MOTOR SKILLS FROM PREVIOUS HOST: AVAILABLE. THEORETICAL COMPETENCE: MODERATE. PRACTICAL APPLICATION: UNTESTED.]
The man—whose name I still didn't know—clapped me on the shoulder and headed off down the hall.
I ducked into the nearest men's room.
Empty. Good.
I locked myself in a stall and sat on the closed toilet lid, hands shaking.
"I can't do this."
[ANALYSIS SUGGESTS OTHERWISE. YOU JUST DID IT.]
"I almost froze. In front of everyone."
[BUT YOU DIDN'T. THE HUMAN BRAIN PERFORMS REMARKABLY UNDER PRESSURE. YOUR ADAPTATION SPEED IS WITHIN ACCEPTABLE PARAMETERS.]
"Acceptable parameters." I laughed, a little hysterical. "I'm living someone else's life. I don't know my colleagues' names. I don't know where my lab is. I don't know anything."
[CORRECTION: YOU KNOW MANY THINGS. THE PROBLEM IS ORGANIZATION AND ACCESS. I CAN HELP WITH THAT—IF YOU GIVE ME TIME.]
I forced myself to breathe. In through the nose. Out through the mouth.
Okay. Okay. One crisis at a time.
"How do I find my lab?"
[CALTECH DIRECTORY ACCESSIBLE VIA PHONE. DR. NATHAN COLE, BIOCHEMISTRY, ROOM 247B BRAUN LABORATORIES.]
Second floor. I was already on the second floor.
I left the bathroom and wandered the halls, pretending confidence I didn't feel. Found a door with "N. COLE, Ph.D." printed on a small nameplate.
My hand hesitated over the handle.
This is it. My kingdom. My prison. Both.
[DRAMATIC INTERNAL MONOLOGUE: NOTED. RECOMMEND ENTERING BEFORE SOMEONE ASKS WHY YOU'RE STARING AT YOUR OWN DOOR.]
I went inside.
Want more? The story continues on Patreon!
If you can't wait for the weekly release, you can grab +10, +15, or +20 chapters ahead of time on my Patreon page. Your support helps me keep this System running!
Read ahead here: [ patreon.com/system_enjoyer ]