Chapter 10: Structural Integrity (Part II)

Biology and Chemistry weren’t too difficult to prepare for. They were full of memory problems that involved smaller units that built upon previous lessons. Like how to properly determine the molarity of an acid or what part of the ATP/ADP cycle did phosphates get attached to ADP? Drawing molecules and guessing how they interacted was like puzzle pieces going together—unlike Baroque Art.

No. Baroque art was a different animal altogether. He couldn’t just know one artist to guess how they interacted with another. How exactly did late Baroque period painters like Sebastanio Ricci compare to the works of earlier figures like Giovanni Barberi—also known as II Guercino? They both seemed to really like drawing angels and scenes depicting saints and other elements comparative to the Baroque period, but really they… They…

Roger’s eyes watered.

Hopefully neither of them would come up in the test tomorrow.

The clock on the dresser read 8:31pm when Roger decided to rest his eyes…on his open Italian Baroque Artwork book. It was uncomfortable, sitting in his chair in front of the little desk he had leaning over to lay on the book. He was so tired, and wanted so badly to be done with the tests—and the pages felt so soft against his cheek. Of course, he fully expected an imprint of The Vision of St. Bruno across his face if he fell asleep.

And then he awoke with a start.

10:22pm.

The room vibrated with an unsettling noise, almost like the sound of a tree falling. Crackling and crinkling as it went down. Everything else seemed quiet. Even the buzz of his light had gone mute against the groan. Was the dorm falling down? He was about eight stories above the ground. Arizona didn’t have earthquakes.

He looked up. That can’t be good. Cracks were appearing in the ceiling.

The ceiling above him creaked with the most distracting groan. Someone upstairs must have been moving furniture. Either that or it was a thunderstorm—indoors. Once the ceiling of his parent’s apartment had sagged under a burst pipe; eventually it buckled and a gush of water, debris, and a toaster fell onto their living room floor. Except that didn’t come with shaking…and swearing?

“Oh shi—!”

The ceiling thuddered and ruptured, spilling a spray of plaster dust, bits of metal trusses, and a dark form heavily onto his bed. The form—a figure really—hit the bed with a loud squeak! It was a girl. A girl had fallen through his ceiling and onto his bed. (Howie at your heart out.) Except that didn’t make much sense either. General feminine shape, clothing, long fingernails plucking plaster out of her hair. Then he noticed: she was wearing goggles.

Big blue things that fitted over her eyes. A girl certainly. Albeit extremely petite, rather nerdy. She might have fit in okay with some of the other freshmen at the dorm, but he didn’t recognize her. Of course, it was difficult to recognize anyone covered in so dust and cobwebs.

After a moment of brushing herself off, she scanned the room and noticed him. With a yelp of surprise she was on her feet, climbing up on the bed.

“Um. Frack?” she said.

“You just…” Roger felt himself straining for the words. “Fell from my ceiling.”

The frowned for a moment and then glanced up. “Oh. That. Frell. Sorry.”

She pushed up her goggles and rubbed the sides of her head. With a single motion she unhooked them from her cellphone—they had been connected by a wire—and opened up her cell as if to text someone.

“What were you doing in my ceiling?” It seemed like a valid question. Really. If someone crashes through the ceiling, without breaking through to the room above, they must have been doing something there. “I don’t mean to pry… Really, but it seems strange.”

“Extrapotential galvanic coherent entities,” she said without looking up from her cellphone. “You have gremlins. Two of them in fact. They probably weakened the structural integrity in the vent that I was in… Thank goodness your bed was right here.” She hopped down and walked over to his desk—which he had vacated when she fell. She kept texting even while she glanced at the wires leading to his lamp and shook her head when she didn’t see what she expected. “Do you have any other electronic devices?”

“Uh. Well, there’s the TV.” He made a head motion towards it. “But you might―”

She slid past him without a word and made a beeline for the television set. Before he could object, she upended it and unplugged it from the wall. Her smell was an after-scent of something powdery and floral mixed with the sharp tang of ozone. If the women Howie wanted him to meet were anything like her, Roger wondered if he could even maintain a conversation.

“Nope,” she said dramatically. “The infestation doesn’t reach into this room.”

“Infestation?”

She stared at him blankly like she’d forgotten he was there. After a long moment she smiled, except the smile didn’t look quite natural. Like she was trying to smile at a baby; but when he started to say something the smile vanished and she set down the TV.

“I am so sorry,” she said, lifting a single finger. Then she shot off into a rapid succession of sentences all of which blurred together. “I will fix your ceiling. Certainly the RAs—you do have RAs in your dorm?—will not like that you’ve had it damaged. I can fix that for you. It’s my fault. Really. These little things are quick on their feet. Did I say feet? They don’t have feet, they’re really extracorporeal. Anyway. You’d be surprised.”

She slipped past him again and darted for his bed without letting him get a word in edgewise.

“Yeah,” he said. “The ceiling… That you fell through. Are you alright? You hit the bed really hard.” It was true, although he wasn’t sure if he was still groggy from sleep or if he just didn’t know what to say because she was a girl. After all how did one react to someone falling through the ceiling and then struck up a very rapid-fire conversation?

The most curious thing (aside from her entrance) was also how she was still thumbing away at her phone. And she was still in his room. Didn’t she mention an infestation?

“Did you mention something about an infestation?”

“Uh,” she said. The smile returned. “No?”

“Yes you did,” he said. “Infestation of what?”

She seemed to acknowledge that for a moment then said something ridiculous. “Gremlins.”