Gemotions

The professor cleared his throat, adjusting his glasses. "The molecular synthesizer...pre-claimed, I'm afraid, Mr. Davies." James blinked, the air suddenly thick. Their design was a Frankenstein's monster of wires and tubes. He had built something beautiful. He had constructed something perfect.

James tapped his pen against the desk in a steady, metronomic rhythm. He had new ideas, modifications. He already knew how to make it better. A strange lightness lifted him up.

"Thank you, Professor," he responded with barely a hint of a tremor in his voice. "I appreciate the update."