The Ohso Project
1: The Recruit
by Jeff Thomason

Drew had never been to the principal’s office before. He had always been a good kid—at least he considered himself such—and he tried to stay out of trouble. But here he was sitting on a bench in the office waiting for his mom.

His mom. She would have been at a cooking class teaching a dozen other ladies how to make an angel food cake—it was one of the more difficult recipes—and probably at the most delicate stage of the process when the phone call came so the cakes would be ruined when class had to be cut short. That, added to a meeting with the principal over her son’s disruptiveness in class, was not a formula for a good day. Or a good mood.

“Don’t worry about it. Your mom won’t be mad.”
His head jerked up. He looked for the source of the voice, but only saw one of the secretaries typing. Must have been my imagination, he thought. Hearing voices—that wouldn’t help things.

“Since this is your first offense, Principal Bish will most likely go easy on you.”

He looked up again and once again saw only the secretary who was still typing faster than he had ever seen any mere mortal type before. He was amazed the computer could keep up.
“Are you the one speaking to me,” he looked down at her nameplate, “Mrs. Lorraine?”

“I am,” she answered without missing a key.

“What if I get suspended? That’ll go on my permanent record, and I won’t be able to get into a good college. Then I won’t get a good job, and I’ll have to go on welfare and be ashamed at my ten year reunion.”

“I wouldn’t worry about any of that. I think your future is pretty bright. Brighter than even you can imagine.”

He sat there considering her words. Then something occurred to him, something he should have picked up on sooner. “How did you know what I was thinking? About my mom I mean?”
“I could see the worry on your face.”

“Oh.” He considered that. “But how did you know I was worried about my mom and not about being in trouble or what my dad would say when he found out?”

She looked up and smiled while still typing. “You are very perceptive, just as I suspected. Excellent! Excellent!”

Drew wanted to ask what that meant, but his mother walked in just then.

“Oh, Drew dear, I must say that phone call was quite a surprise. I figured if a child can make it to the eleventh grade without getting into trouble, he’ll probably make it thru graduation without a problem.”

Drew looked up at his mother unsure what to say. She saw the worry and disappointment in his eyes, sat down on the bench next to him, and put her arm around his shoulders. She lowered her head onto his.

“Mrs. Charles, the principal will see you now.”

*****

Principal Bish sat in an executive leather chair behind a mahogany desk too large for the room. Behind her hung dozens of certificates and awards with dates ranging over the last fifty years. Each was custom framed and freshly dusted.

“Ms. Charles, thank you for coming. I am very sorry for taking you away from your employment. I understand what an imposition it is. I wouldn’t have summoned you if the matter weren’t so serious.”

“It’s Mrs. Charles, and my children’s needs are more important than my day job.”

Bish peered doubtfully over her glasses. “Yes, well,” she opened a folder, “as I said, this is a very serious matter. During first period, your son defied a teacher in front of the entire class.”

Mrs. Charles put her hand over her mouth as the corners raised, held it there for a moment, then lowered it and cleared her throat. “Defied?”

“Defied! Ms. Rowe was instructing the class on the topic of genetics. She was explaining that most of the genetic material found in the human cell has no function and was therefore termed ‘junk DNA’. Your son,” she glared thru his spectacles at Drew, “had the gall to raise his hand—interrupting the lesson—and contradict her. In front of the entire class.”

Mrs. Charles turned to her son. “What did you say?”

He shifted in his chair. “I just explained that current studies have shown junk DNA does affect several cell processes and is not really junk but essential to correct cell function. Which only makes sense, because why would nature produce so much waste? It’s not consistent with other things we know and observe.”

“And how did your teacher respond.”

“She said that wasn’t in the book, and we were to stick to the approved curriculum.”

“There!” Bish poked a finger straight at him, “You heard it for yourself: a full confession.”

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but to me it sounds like my son was simply trying to correct inaccurate information.”

“Mrs. Charles, that book was written by a group of highly credentialed university professors and approved by the state board of education. I think they are a little better qualified to say what genetic material can and can’t do than a mere high school student.”

“Principal Bish, science is always changing. How old was the textbook the teacher was using?”

Bish sat up slowly, taking a deep breath as she moved. “Mrs. Charles, I did not call you down here to discuss the age of our textbooks. I called you down here, because your son displayed recalcitrant behavior by challenging a teacher’s authority in front of her subordinates. Respecting authority is paramount at this school.”

“Really? I thought educating our children with correct information was.”

Bish rubbed her forehead. “I see where your son gets his rebellious nature.”

“Miss Bish—”

“Principal Bish.”

“Miss Bish, it sounds like the wrong person is sitting in the principal’s office. Instead of harassing my son for trying to share a little knowledge he gained by learning outside of school—yes, some people actually take the initiative to read scientific journals and learn something on their own that isn’t required by the state—don’t you think you should be talking to Ms. Rowe about neglecting her duty by failing to stay up to date with the latest scientific findings and instead simply regurgitating the contents of a who-knows-how-old textbook to students who are capable of reading it themselves?” She stood up. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have something productive to get back to. Come on, Drew.”
He stood up, and the two of them turned their backs on the fuming administrator and walked out the door. They took a few more steps before Mrs. Charles stopped and turned to look at her son. “Don’t let any of this bother you, dear.” She ruffled his hair. “You did nothing wrong. It was a misunderstanding, that’s all.” She leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek. “I’ll see you at home.”

Drew felt a great relief as he watched his mother walk out of the office.

“It’ll be interesting to see how much effect the junk DNA actually has on genetics, inheritance, and cell function, won’t it?”
He turned and looked at the secretary. She was busy typing as usual and hadn’t looked up. “Yes it will be.” He opened his mouth to ask a question, but the bell cut him off. Time for lunch.

*****

“So, are you going to be expelled?” Blake, one of his best friends, asked picking up his hamburger and devouring half with one bite.

“No. My mom actually defended me. She wasn’t mad at all. At least not at me.”

“Really? She always seemed so passive; so timid. I can’t see her standing up to anyone.”

“Yeah,” Trevor, his other best friend, added. “I don’t think I’ve even seen her even disagree with anyone.”

“I haven’t either, unless you count salesman or a billing department as people, then I’ve seen her go after them like a tiger.”

“Really? Your mom? Are you sure you aren’t confusing her with a twin sister?”

“Parents can surprise you.”

“Ain’t that the truth. Speaking of surprise,” Drew dipped a fry into a pool of fry sauce, liberally coated it, then popped it in his mouth, “have you ever talked to the secretary in the office?”

“Which one?”

“Mrs. Lorraine. She seems to know things. Like, smart things.”

“Like how to type a letter or format a memo? That’s part of the job description.”

“No, like intellectual things. Latest scientific discovery type things. She knew all about how junk DNA is a contributing factor in biological functions, including the transcriptional and translational regulation of protein-coding sequences.” He leaned closer and lowered his voice. “And I think she can read minds.”
Blake took another bite of his hamburger. “Isn’t that another job requirement? That and being able to interpret chicken scratches?”

“I’m being serious. I think she can actually tell what other people are thinking.”

“Why are you so interested in the secretary? Do you think she’s hot or something?”

Trevor nearly laughed a mouthful of milk all over his tray. “Drew buddy, she’s ancient. She has to be at least 30. Try looking for someone a little younger.”

“It’s not like that. It’s … well … I always thought someone became a secretary, because she couldn’t do anything else. But now I’m not so sure. What if….” He stirred his mixed vegetable.
“Who cares?” Blake finished his hamburger and licked his fingers. “So what do you think will happen on Visitors tonight? Now that the granddaughter and the former queen are finally teaming up, the current queen is about to be in some very hot water.”
“I know. I can’t wait! But there are still five episodes left, and you know they’re going to drag the story out a few more weeks before the serious fighting begins.”

“Yeah, that’s one thing I liked better about the original miniseries. The plot was a lot tighter and the story didn’t lose its momentum.” Trevor noticed Drew was still stirring his vegetables. “Drew? Earth to Drew, are you all right? We’ve been discussing Visitors for more than five seconds, and you haven’t said a word. You haven’t been abducted by them, have you? They don’t have you mesmerized by their rapture do they?”

“Huh? Oh, no. I was just thinking.”

“Drew, she’s still over 30 and still too old for you.”

“Ha, ha. Very funny. Hey, Visitors is on tonight. Now that the granddaughter and the old queen have joined forces against the current queen, do you think—”

“Are you Drew Charles?”

He looked up to see an office aid standing over him with a handful of notes. “Yeeees.”

He handed one of the notes to Drew, “School counselor wants to see you,” then walked away.

Blake put his hand on Drew’s shoulder. “Well, it’s been nice knowing you. But don’t worry—you can always get your GED. I hear there are one or two community colleges that’ll still let you in with one.”

*****

Drew had never been called to the school counselor’s office before. Ok, there was that one time when he had to update his father’s work number, but that only required speaking with the secretary. He wasn’t sure if he had actually seen a counselor in person. He wasn’t even sure which one he was assigned to.
He walked down to the counseling office telling himself this was no big deal—lots of students got in trouble and saw the principal and school counselor everyday, and they were still alive. But had a hard time convincing himself of it. The first time never feels good.

The secretary smiled as he walked in the door. “Drew, so good to see you again.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Harris.” His eyes scanned the three doors. “I was told the school counselor wanted to see me.”

“Yes. She’s waiting for you.”

He looked again at the three doors, letting his eyes linger on one before dragging them over to the next.

“It’s Mrs. Hillman. The middle door.”

“Thanks.” He walked over to it and knocked gently. “Mrs. Hillman?”

“Drew, come on in,” he heard her say thru the door.

He took a deep breath and stepped inside.

*****

Her office was small but didn’t feel cramped. She had shelves lining three of the four walls displaying books on every subject he had ever heard of. Family photos were arranged around the office adding a touch of home.

“Please have a seat.” She turned from her computer and gestured to a padded chair. She leaned forward, put her elbows on the desk, and rested her head on her clasped hands. “You’ve had quite the morning, haven’t you?”

He let out a deep sigh.

“Don’t let Principal Bish get you down. You’ll encounter many … people like her who become slightly … defensive when they feel they or someone they identify with is being … questioned. But I didn’t call you down here to discuss that. I called you down here, because I was curious about something. Did you raise your hand and correct your teacher to embarrass her in front of the class?”

“No! I was just trying to correct the false information so the other students knew the truth.”

“Were you surprised at her reaction?”

“Yes. I thought she’d be grateful. I always am when someone shares something new with me.”

“And had you known how upset the comment would make her, would you have still made it?”

He pondered this for a moment—but only for a moment.

“Yes, I would have. Besides, she’s an adult. She shouldn’t have taken it personally. Did she think not knowing something made her a bad teacher?”

The corners of Mrs. Hillman’s mouth rose ever so slightly. “This wasn’t the first incident of this kind, was it?”

Drew shifted in his seat.

“Two weeks ago in American Government you made a comment that contradicted what the teacher said.”

“Well, she was wrong, too.”

“How so?” Mrs. Hillman leaned forward.

“We were discussing the post-Civil War era and the three amendments passed shortly after. She claimed the Fourteenth Amendment extended all the rights in the Bill of Rights to state and local levels via the due process clause. I pointed out that first, despite its name, the Bill of Rights was not a list of rights but a list of limitations on government. Second, if the due process clause was really meant to apply to state and local governments, there would be no need for the Fifteen Amendment, and yet there it is. I also pointed out that the due process clause wasn’t used like that until nearly a century later during the Black’s Rights Movement of the 60’s when lawyers used it to overturn local and state laws and the courts conceded. For example, until the late 1960’s, a policeman in Chicago did not need a warrant to search or seize.”

“And what was her reaction to all of that?”

“She was very upset, at first, but later said it was very insightful and original thinking. I had brought up points she had never considered or even heard before.”

“That was very bold of you. But it wasn’t the only other incident, was it?”

Drew slumped back in his chair and looked up, mild desperation in his eyes. “How much trouble am I in?”

Mrs. Hillman laughed. “You’re not in trouble. I’m not the school principal; I’m here to help you. I appreciate people asking questions and examining ideas from different angles.”

Drew sat up a little straighter.

“How would you like a chance to put your insightfulness to good use?”

He gave her an odd look. “How?”

She brought her hands down to her desk and smiled. “There is an after school club I think you’d be interested in.”

*****

Drew trudged thru the rest of his classes like a zombie. His mind continued wandering back to the Student Builders Club. What was so special about it? The school counselor’s recommendation was the first time he had even heard of it. What did they build? Tables? What possible contribution could his insightfulness make to that?

After an eternity, the last bell rang. School was finally over. In a few minutes all his questions would be answered. At least, he hoped they would.

He found the room easily enough: M-22—Mr. Grovestand’s room. He had spent many mornings learning algebra, trig, and calculus in that room. He liked Mr. Grovestand. He was one of the best teacher’s Drew had ever had. He explained mathematical concepts clearly and worked with students until they grasped them. Teachers just didn’t do that these days. They were too concerned with getting thru the book and raising test scores so no child would be left behind. Drew never needed the extra help—in fact, he spent a good deal of his class time answering other students’ questions and helping them with their assignments—but he was grateful the help was available if he ever did need it.
He stepped into the room. Sitting in a circle of desks sat six upperclassmen. He immediately felt out of place and turned to leave.

“Drew!” Mrs. Lorraine walked over from the chalkboard. “We’re so glad you decided to join us.”

Now he was confused. What was the office secretary doing here? Was the regular advisor home sick?

“Please have a seat.” She motioned to an empty desk in the circle—the only one open.

He sat down and looked around. He only recognized one other student, a transfer who had joined his competitive speech class just last week. She wasn’t a great speaker.

“Let me introduce everyone to you. This is Tom, Jerry, Brandon, Tim, Nathan, and Natalie. Everyone, this is Drew.”

They all said their hellos.

“Drew, we are working on a business scenario. Company XYZ has come to you requesting a line of credit. You’ve made loans to them in the past. Examine their financial statements and history and decide whether you will grant the line and why or why not.”
She handed a stack of file folders to Tom who took the first one and passed the rest along. When Drew got his he opened it up, pulled out Balance Sheets, Income Statements, Statements of Cash Flow, and previous loan history for the past three years. He studied each document carefully. He couldn’t fathom what any of this had to do with building, but he decided to wait and see. He had said enough for one day.

After a few minutes, Mrs. Lorraine interrupted the class. “All right, I want to hear what you’ve decided. We’ll start with Tom.”
Tom cleared his throat, wobbled his head from side to side, and said, “I would grant the line of credit. They’ve borrowed money several times in the past and have always paid it back on time. I noticed they do have a current loan, but it appears the additional need is because of lower-than-usual sales due to a soft economy. I would grant them the loan so they can continue functioning; I wouldn’t want to lose their future business.”

“Thank you, Tom. Brandon, what about you? What are your thoughts?”

“I agree with Tom. They’ve always paid their obligations before. I don’t see why they wouldn’t now. The line they’re asking for isn’t that much larger than what they’ve requested in the past.”
Drew listened to each member of the club make the same recommendation citing similar reasons.

“And what does the newest member of our group think?”
He sat there quietly, looking around at the others. He glanced over the financial statements one more time then answered. “I understand why all of you would approve the line of credit for XYZ. They have a history with us, and on the surface they appear to be a good credit risk. However, there are a few details that bother me. First, they’ve made a few changes in management this year. That in itself isn’t bad, but it is likely the cause of some of the unusual behavior I’m seeing that they haven’t exhibited before. For example, at the beginning of the fiscal year, they increased executive salaries and paid bonuses despite falling revenues, and they used a loan to fund them. Also, they declared a dividend even though profits have been the lowest in three years and no dividends were paid out in the previous more prosperous years. It appears that they took the profits from the company to pay themselves. Then they borrowed money to pay themselves again. Now they are asking for more money. I can only guess that they’ll use it to pay themselves a third time.”
“So what is your recommendation?”

He drew back preparing for the assault he knew would come. “I recommend denying the line of credit.”

“So are you saying the other six members of the group are wrong? Members who all have a year more than you in school?”

He slumped a little more. “I’m not saying they are wrong, I’m just saying there are other facts they didn’t mention that concern me and lead me to a different conclusion.” He turned his head.

Mrs. Lorraine looked at him sternly. She seemed to peer right thru him. “Well, Mr. Charles, all I have to say to that is,” she smiled, “welcome to the Club. You’ve passed your test.”

Tim patted him on the back. Drew flinched, and then realized it was a congratulatory pat, not an attack. Jerry also patted his shoulder. “Good job, man. You didn’t back down when everyone else was against you. You also didn’t ignore the important facts when others pretended to.”

“You mean this was all just a test? You all saw those problems with XYZ?”

“Of course,” Natalie laughed.

“Oh.” He didn’t know what else to say.

“Drew, we want to show you something. Come with me.” They all stood up and followed Mrs. Lorraine out the door and down the hall. They turned into the library and entered the first back room. After everyone was in, they shut the door and lowered the blinds.
Drew had never been in this room before. Inside sat two round tables encircled about by hard chairs. Textbooks filled the shelves along two adjacent walls. The third wall had several cardboard boxes stacked against it. Jerry and Tim pushed the boxes aside revealing a mosaic embedded in the wall.

“I didn’t know that was there.”

“Most people don’t. It’s the only one like it in the building. One of the Builder’s Club’s projects.”

“Why build it here where no one can see it?”

“Why indeed.” Mrs. Lorraine touched several of the tiles, and the archway lit up. The glow extruded from the wall over their heads. Drew saw a flash then the little used room was gone, replaced by a massive hallway of carved wood, sculpted metal, and clear glass. Doors lined the hallway leading to a grand staircase. People went in and out of the doorways and up and down the hall.

“Where are we?”

“The Ohso Project,” Mrs. Lorraine answered.

“I’ve never heard of that. Where is it?”

“I would be surprised if you had. It’s nearly 25,000 light years from Earth, as the comet flies.”

Drew looked at her with an upraised eyebrow. “No, seriously, where are we?”

“We are 25,000 light years from Earth at the Ohso Project.”

He studied her face carefully. “You’re not joking, are you?”
“No, I’m not.”

“How did we get here? 25,000 light years is a lot of distance to cover.”

“And you don’t think we just moved really fast?”

“Well, we could have, but doesn’t the theory of relativity tell us as you increase speed you also increase mass so you can never exceed the speed of light because you would gain infinite mass? And we’d have to exceed it by about 25 million times to get here so quickly.”

“It does say that, but it turns out that isn’t exactly true. Once you reach light speed, you do gain infinite mass, but instead of that being a limitation it is actually an empowerment. With infinite mass you can manipulate the fundamental forces of the universe and break the so called ‘laws of physics’. Traveling from one point in the universe to another becomes a simple matter. That archway accelerated every particle in our bodies to the speed of light and then here we are.”

“That’s pretty scary having that kind of power.”

“That’s why we don’t tell anyone about it. It’d be too easy to abuse. Just imagine what a government would do with it.”

Drew shuddered. “But how can you keep such a marvelous discovery a secret? It seems the incentive to share would be too great.”

“First, we don’t tell anyone about it who isn’t associated with the Project. Second, only a chosen few in the project understand the details well enough to use them. Third, the idea is contrary to currently understood principles of science and would be regarded by anyone who accidentally learned of it as science heresy.”

“So, what is the Ohso Project, and what are we doing here?”
“This is where we all work. I’ve arranged to change your first period social science class to work study. You’ll go to the library each morning with the other club members and come here to work. You’ll be paid very generously, of course. Plus we spend our two hour weekly meeting here and occasionally work Saturdays.”

Drew considered this. “What will I be doing exactly?”

“Come with me, and I’ll show you.”

They walked towards the grand stairway.

“So I’ll be working for you?”

“Oh, no. I’m merely the liaison with the high school. There is a council of 12 men who oversee the entire project, but they are very busy. You won’t see much of them.”

They came to an intricately carved staircase. Drew lifted one foot and started to set it down on the first step when he felt his entire body lift off the ground. He floated to the top of the stairway.

“What was that?”

“A more efficient escalator. Here at the Ohso Project, we’ve collected the brightest minds from around the galaxy to work in various groups on various projects. One of those groups specializes in gravity. That was one of their many contributions. The lower floor is the Hallway.” She pointed to the endless row of doors. “It connects the Project with every point in the Milky Way Galaxy. These upper floors are where we work. You’ve been invited to join the History Group.”

“History? Bah. That’s boring.”

She smiled. “Not the way we do it.”

She led him into a large room lined with shelves stretching from floor to the 40’ ceiling. The only breaks were two windows reaching halfway down the wall that let in ample light.

“Pick a book off the shelf.”

“Does it matter which one?”

“Nope. Anyone you like will be fine.”

He reached for one nearby and pulled it out. It wasn’t a book, at least not the normal paper kind. It appeared to be a sheet of thick glass. Auckland, New Zealand: 2001-2002 was written in glowing letters across the front. He instinctively ran his hand over the words. They vanished revealing a city map. He noticed a timeline at the bottom of the map instead of a legend. He zoomed in to a street corner and slid the timeline over. A video played showing a souvenir shop at night. Nothing was happening. He slid the timeline forward several hours. Now the street was bustling with life. People walked in the shop with their holiday money and left carrying a bag filled with expensive souvenirs to impress their friends at home. He instinctively used two fingers and scrolled to the clothes store next door. He zoomed in the window and saw one shopper obtaining a shirt using a ‘five-fingered discount’.

“So is this actual footage of Auckland? Or is it some sort of recreation?”

“These slates contain actual recordings of events.”

“How did you get the footage?”

“As you know, we don’t directly observe the world around us. For example, we don’t actually see people or events take place. What we see is the light reflected off people and places. That light continues to travel forever thru the universe. We capture and record it on these slates.”

“But if we’re really 25,000 light years away from Earth, the light from this event wouldn’t have reached us yet. So how was it recorded?”

“I was wondering if you would notice that. We have observatories stationed throughout the galaxy record events from all angles and then transmit the information to us. That’s why you were able to scroll around in the movie and see what was happening around the shop.”

“That is so amazing. Really, really cool.”

“I told you the way we did History wasn’t boring.”

“So am I going to help with the recording?”

“No, that’s all automated and only a small part of what we do. No, what we have for you requires a higher level of thinking. Are you aware that three people can witness the same event but give you three completely different versions of what happened?”

“Yes.”

“People interpret the world around them thru the filters of their own biases and experiences. That can cause a lot of problems when it comes to decisions that affect one or more parties’ well being. If you don’t know what actually happened, you can’t make a fair judgment, unless dumb luck steps in which you can’t count on. We have assembled a team of astute observers who see past what they want to see and instead report what really happened. People like yourself that notice the small but important details and realize what they mean.”

“But to what end? That knowledge seems hardly valuable in and of itself.”

“You’re right. Any knowledge by itself is useless; it’s the application of knowledge that gives it its value. Our interpretations are used to settle disputes in trials, arbitrations, mediations, and private confrontations throughout the inhabited systems of the galaxy. Disputes get settled much more quickly and with much less hostility when both sides have complete and accurate information.”

“Why doesn’t anyone on Earth use our services? It would simplify so much.”

“Some groups do, and their disputes are resolved very quickly and to the satisfaction of all parties. They just don’t disclose the details of the settlement.”

“Do they know where the information comes from?”

“They know generally, but we keep the details fuzzy.”

“How do they find out about us?”

“From other clients. We’re strictly referral based.”

“I still find it hard to believe no one suspects this operation exists, not even the conspiracy theorists.”

“Oh, they do. There is a lot of well-documented evidence of our existence and our activities on the Internet. We just make sure it’s posted to the most outlandish of conspiracy theorist websites so no one will take any of it seriously. You’d be amazed how easily it is to hide something in plain sight.”

“But don’t any of the workers here ever talk?”

“We only recruit high school juniors and seniors. Anything they say is written off as a desperate plea for attention or an overactive imagination resulting from playing too many video games.”

“I can see that. But why only juniors and seniors? Wouldn’t it be advantageous to have some university graduate level minds?”

“No. Experience has shown that high school students are smart enough to figure out almost anything, but still open enough to see there are multiple sides to every issue. Once in college, a person is indoctrinated to believe only two sides exist and they must pick one and dogmatically stick to it. University students, ironically, are the least flexible thinkers.”

Drew considered the irony.

“Besides, we don’t approach anyone who won’t accept our offer and keep our confidences.”

“How could you possible know what someone will or will not do? Is there a department that sees the future?”

She laughed. “No, nothing like that. I, and several others like me, can read minds. That’s what makes me such a great recruiter, liaison, and secretary.”

Drew scrunched his face. “Mrs. Lorraine, if you are so talented, why do you waste your time as a high school secretary?”

“Why do you think it’s wasted?”

“Well, you sit in an office all day and type. Hardly anyone even knows your name.”

“True, I don’t receive any of the fame or adoration or respect that certain administrators do, but that doesn’t mean what I do isn’t important or essential or even fulfilling. And I do a lot more than just type. No office or firm could function without a secretary to handle the day-to-day tasks; we are essential to keeping the machinery of business running. And a school is just a big business; it has to maintain attendance, manage finances, handle events, and do a number of other things. Plus it puts me in the perfect position to find such promising students like you.” She smiled.

Drew nodded.

“I sense you have another concern.”

He looked away, then looked back at her. “How am I going to tell my parents? They’ll have to sign my work study authorization, and I’m afraid ‘historian in the center of the universe’ won’t sound legitimate.”

“They’ve already signed it. I obtained their permission before I approached you.”

“And they were all right with me working so far from home?”

“I may have left out a few details. Any other questions?”

“Just one,” he rubbed his hands together, “where do I start?”

Copyright 2011 Jeff Thomason. All rights reserved.

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Tag der Veröffentlichung: 24.07.2011

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