author: UnderHerToes
Seeing crowds of people coming from and still loitering about the parking lot maze, you casually brush passed them, not looking directly at anyone. Focused, you navigate around cars, both stationary and in motion, while voices echo in the morning air without calling your name. A car horn blares at your side, and brakes creak. You leap forward and look back at a young woman, unfamiliar, behind the wheel of a blue sedan. She gives you the customary finger for her lack of attention, and you shrug back, pressing forward with keys in hand.
Successfully at your door, you throw it open and toss your pack into the passenger seat. You quickly slide the key in the ignition before closing your door and kick the pedal until it revs to life. Swinging the door closed, you check around through the mirrors, then begin pulling out from the lot, passing a few familiar cars and faces on the way out, but giving them no acknowledgement.
On the road away from the campus, you finally find the mindspace to think openly. Contemplating your theft and options and consequences, you decide to immediately show this invention to your girlfriend before anyone can track you. Living near the college is convenient for your commute, as she has no class today and should be home. Her roommate and long time friend, Sheena, should be away, providing privacy for the demonstration you hope to give. Your thoughts drive you on the short route to the driveway.
Carrying the pack with you, you skip to the door and knock fervently, not wanting to waste a second. Tracy opens the door, rubbing her eyes while still in her pajamas. You peck her cheek and press her into the house, closing the door yourself.
"Wha.." she groans, "Don't you have class?" She asks as she falls back against the couch.
You tear open the backpack, "Yes, but I have such a surprise! You won't believe it, Tracy!" You take the device in your hands and lift it to her eyes. She looks away to the kitchen for a second, then instantly back. "This is what I've been telling you about. The matter transposer Montana was working on! It's real."
Sleepily she responds, "You, you shouldn't have," then looks away again, "not now." Her focus is elsewhere, as if the room was painted with others' ears.
"But this is what we've wanted! So long only fantasies, now the possibilities are real! Just imagine it! Wait! Now you don't have to!" You babble on and try to pass the device into her hands, but she pushes it away defiantly. You take it into your hand, cradling the dial with your fingers.
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