Mixéd 1.414

The doors opened into an endless sea of books. The young man in black lead the way on a twisting path between faux-redwood shelves. I followed meekly.

He stopped abruptly and I nearly plowed into his back. I hopped back as he turned around like he was going to pounce.

“This is the most acoustically isolated part of the building,” he pronounced in a monotone. His icy blue eyes stared through a curtain of shaggy black hair and into my soul. Or my chest. I couldn’t tell.

“Does that mean I can talk?”

He shook his head and pulled something out of his pocket, looking nervously behind him as he held it in front of my face on the palm of his hand. It looked like a wad of yellow electrical tape with a few batteries and paper clips stuck to it. He flipped some sort of switch on its side.

“Short-range radio jammer. It should scramble any nearby listening devices around here for five minutes or so, until it runs out of power.” He blinked once, and stared straight into my eyes.

“You’re making fun of me, aren’t you?”

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