Pygmalion Unbound Read Free

personnel stood behind the counter, one a large crew cut man who stood six-five with maybe five percent body fat and the other a woman who was five-six but compact and who moved like a panther. Kelly had to run her purse and portfolio through a smaller scanner on a conveyer belt, and had to pass through the larger scanner three times, each time removing more and more of the tiny bits of metal on her person. It was worse than courthouse security, the few times she’d been summoned as an expert witness in murder trials.
    Satisfied that she was not a spy or a terrorist, the woman radioed the main office. A fresh-scrubbed brunette in a dark blazer and skirt, who introduced herself simply as Julie, lead her to Dr. Desmond Crane’s office. She handed Kelly a laminated tag. “Keep this on at all times. We’ll have a permanent one made for you.”
    The day before, Kelly had been met at the airport by one of the AC security types, and handed a sheaf of papers and final security clearances to sign once she had been taken to the rental house reserved for her. It was a definite departure from the cozy, informal academic world. The OpSec-conscious mindset she remembered from her career Army father still grated on her.
    On the other hand, she thought, maybe a little cloak-and-dagger was what she needed. Tenured and comfortably ensconced in an endowed chair at the University of Wisconsin, teaching one graduate seminar and an upper-level class every semester, with plenty of time in between for research and publication — her life had devolved into routine. Once she reached tenure, she plateaued. The next mountain had yet to materialize.
    So when Crane had contacted her a year ago, inquiring about her availability, it had been an opportunity for career enhancement. She was up for a sabbatical this year anyway, and after being offered a ridiculous sum of money for a semester with American Cybernetics, she had accepted.
    Problem was she had no idea what she was going to be doing for the next four months.
    Julie led her down an uncracked, meticulously-edged concrete sidewalk lined with waist-high shrubs pruned at right angles, to the cubical administration building. The lobby was huge, a cathedral of smoked glass and burnished metal and dark wood with granite underfoot and acoustics that muted footsteps and conversation. They entered a chrome elevator that barely moved. A faint ping sounded as they reached their destination. “Fourth floor,” Julie said with a cold cheerfulness as they stepped into the hallway. They walked through the whispery ambient-lit polished corridor. “Doctor Crane’s office is down at the end, on the right. I’ll show you there.”
    “Thank you,” Kelly replied. Not quite joyful assistance, more like making sure she didn’t stray where she didn’t belong, a silken smile over cold steel. The guide’s businesslike steps were muffled on the new dark blue carpeting. She stopped at the end of the hall, the door on the right had a small LCD touchpad by the doorframe. Julie placed a finger on the screen, and it lit up.
    “Doctor Kelly is here,” she said.
    “Send her in.” Crane’s voice was as she remembered it, high-pitched and unaccented. Another touch, the door slid open, and Julie motioned Kelly through.
    Crane was seated behind a large chrome-and-wood desk, the office brightly lit from the windows. Done in an ultra-modern or eighties throwback techno décor that was all the rage, chrome and black/gray plastic with blue and red LED lights, but totally devoid of any personal touch. No family pictures, not even a framed diploma or certificate. No clue as to who Crane was . A second man, African-American, tall and muscular with a leonine head, glasses and short afro, stood as she entered. They both wore coats and ties.
    Crane stood and took her hand. He was tall and thin, with a shock of tightly-curled dark hair going gray at the temples. “Welcome to American Cybernetics, Doctor Kelly. I’m so glad you