Scientific Prodigies [Eleanor and Idés]

Monday 22nd of May, before lunch
Ilomar University Laboratories - office of Professor Idés Lynn Chapmann

“Professor Chapmann?” The young woman was partly out of breath when she opened the door. She had knocked as a courtesy, but had not bothered to actually wait for an answer. The glass windows along the hallways left little room for privacy, and Eleanor felt safe she would not be interrupting anything indecent. She had thought the same last year when she’d unintentionally caught Theresa Mayhew with a student, but really, if you were to have an extramarital affair with someone half your age, you could at least lock the door. Eleanor, who had thought better than to get involved in the whole ordeal, had told Mayhew that much, before retreating back to the library with the intention to forget it all. Yet it was not an experience that held her back now, from popping her head inside the door that read ‘Professor Lynn Chapmann.’

It had been a slow morning, they had told her it would probably be like this until the end of exam season, since the death of the crown prince and the Godia investigation had messed up a lot of planning, and everyone was busy catching up. This included the team she was supposed to work with, and while Eleanor had been shown around, assigned an office and an apartment, what she was really here for, was the guidance of experts in her field. She was not the first, and neither would she be the last, to take interest in the physics of warlock powers. Especially at a time like this, when people like Eve Lowe were eagerly spreading their pseudo-scientific misinformation about Nachon warlocks. Ilomars insistence on religious and superstitious explanations for warlock ‘magic’ as it was still often perceived, was frustrating. Their powers could be observed at a particulate level, yet somehow it seemed, no one cared for the implications of such a discovery. No one at least, in popular media.

Having had nothing better to do that morning, apart from going over some calculations, answering a couple of mails, and taking a call from home, Eleanor had stumbled upon an article on CPS: ‘Conversations with the EFA’, and had decided that she was as curious as the rest of Ilomar to hear what a supposed terrorist organisation like that had to say. Surprise surprise, Eve Lowe had made a statement, and annoyed, Eleanor had copied her name into the search bar, found her blog, probably just to have something to get annoyed at, and was met with:

Now, my esteemed colleague, the young professor Chapmann of Ilomar University, seems to suggest differently in his paper “Energetic Frequencies: Differences and Similarities” in which he seemingly suggests that the frequency in which the energy manifests within a warlock is the same whether the calculation is made on an Enferi or a Nachon [...]

She had read that first line again, just to make sure. Then she had laughed, who would have thought Lowe would ever prove helpful in anything? How could she have forgotten? Idés Chapmann was a well known name in the field of energy engineering, had at least become so over these past years, and while Eleanor was, at least at this point, more interested in the theoretic aspects of energy, she had heard of his work. Now, at the discovery that he was here, she was eager to get to meet the man, and a quick search had led her here, to his lab, with no real plan, other than to introduce herself, anyone disliked by Eve Lowe was someone Eleanor would want to meet.

Nothing really seemed to go his way that day. On his work table was a prototype of Zeal that didn’t quite work – no matter how hard he tried to fix the calculations. It stood in the middle of a table on a stander, a black orb with prods attached that collected data on the frequency of energy output. Scattered around it were pieces of paper with various calculations scribbled on to them. None of it seemed to add up, much to his frustration. Perhaps Idés was simply in need of a break, a proper meal and a good night's sleep. He couldn’t remember the last time he had taken a proper day off. Last time Fallon had slept over, perhaps?

Instead of actually stepping away from work, Idés had instead decided that upgrading his EZPEC also counted as a break.  So there he was, on his knees on the floor with his head inside of the machinery and a screwdriver in his hand as he installed the new circuit board. This would either allow him to expose his Zeals to a higher amount of energy faster – or it would fry the whole system. He was fairly certain that it wouldn’t, though. Usually, a technician would be called for these kinds of upgrades. Idés, however, had been fixing and tinkering with pretty much any kind of machinery he could get his hands on since he had been very young. As such, he hadn’t made use of such a service since he had been hired. And as the EZPEC had not broken down yet, he trusted his own instinct with these things.

Then, a knock and a woman's voice. Idés startled, banging his head against the top part of the machinery, knocking his glasses askew. He sat back, rubbing the back of his head as he looked over towards the door. A woman he didn’t recognize. A student? Had he forgotten another appointment? It wasn’t unlikely, but he did not recognize her from any of his classes if that was the case. 

“Oh, uh, hi,” he said, smiling at her, oblivious to the machine oil staining his cheek. He got up, to greet her probably, removing his glasses and placing them in his lab coat pocket. “How can I help you?”

The laboratory was a mess, the same way Eleanor’s new apartment was a mess; scattered papers, machinery of different kinds; some she recognised, some she didn’t, bit and pieces around the room that probably belonged to some half finished project. She did not notice Professor Chapmann until a loud bang revealed his position on the floor. He had been tinkering with something, and she must have interrupted, for when he got up to greet her, something was smeared across his cheek. “You’re Idés Chapmann?” She asked unthinkingly, taking aback by–well, she supposed she had expected someone more impressive. “Sorry, I mean, of course you are!” She corrected herself, and stepped further into the room, returning the smile.

“I just came by to–” Her eyes flickered back to some attraption on a table; an orb, probably a zeal, based on what she knew about Chapmann’s work, connected to a reader of sorts. She wasn’t sure what it was supposed to do, and she stepped closer, scanning the loose papers for clues. “Are you sure this is right?” She frowned, nodding to one of his equations. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but I assume you are trying to calculate some change in energy radiation?” Without asking permission, she had picked up the paper and was studying it. “I take it your zeal is supposed to manipulate the molecular structure of–” She bit her lip, trailing off as she seemed to realise what it was he was doing. No way that was legal, but what exactly this implied, she could not be sure of. Better to presume he had the right authorization. “Well, it’s obviously not working yet, and it shouldn’t, you haven’t taken Price’s principle into consideration.” She replaced the paper on the table and looked back up at Chapmann. “It’s either that or your numbers for the amplitude are wrong. I’m not completely sure what you are trying to do.”

“You’re Idés Chapmann?” She asked, making Idés pause. “I, uh,” he managed to say, before she corrected herself that of course he was. It wasn’t the first time someone had been taken aback by meeting him, he didn’t look very scholarly, but there was something about the way she said it that didn’t sit right. She stepped further into the room, seemingly about to clarify what her business was, but got distracted by the malfunctioning Zeal. And then, she immediately started inspecting what exactly it was that was wrong. Idés gaped at her, as she started picking up papers and reading his miscalculations. Then, she stopped speaking for a moment as it dawned on her what it was he was making. He was just about to clarify that he did indeed have the permits, but she started speaking again “Well, it’s obviously not working” and well, she wasn’t wrong, but then she went ahead and identified what had stumped him for the better part of the weekend. Price’s principle, of course. How could he miss that?

“I’m not completely sure what you are trying to do.” And at that point he wasn’t even sure either, as not since the days he had himself had been working as a lab assistant had he had his ass handed to him like that. He simply kept gaping at her for a moment, then blinked and closed his mouth, a hand carting through his disheveled hair as he looked down at his calculations. It was embarrassing. This was embarrassing. He looked down at the screwdriver he still held in his hand. Did he lie and say he was, in fact, not Idés Chapmann and instead just a technician? Well, he was wearing a labcoat bearing his name, so that was a terrible idea. He put the screwdriver back on the table and looked at the woman again. Who even was she?

“Uhm,” he started, realizing he should probably say something eventually. “That’s, uh… yeah, true,” he nodded, she was right about everything she had just said, but he didn’t even know why she was even saying it. This definitely wasn’t a student. She was too young to be a member of the school board or some sort of supervisor, he assumed. He would know if she was a professor. He should really start reading the emails the school sent out to inform them of new employees. “Have we, uh,” he said, then realized that he was sounding like a moron as his brain was still trying to catch up with what was going on. He cleared his throat. “That is, I don’t think we’ve been, uh. Introduced?”

For someone who was reputedly very smart, Eleanor thought, Chapmann did seem to gape quite a lot. She was not really sure why, all she had done was point out an obvious flaw in his design and now he was standing there, silently looking at first the notes, then down as if to confer with the name of his lab coat. Was it possible that this was not Professor Chapmann, after all, but some technician who had put on the wrong coat? She looked back down to check if she had maybe made a mistake he was unsure of how to inform her of, but no, that wasn’t it either. The silence had almost gotten to her, and she was deciding on what to say, perhaps apologise for the misunderstanding and ask where she could find said professor, when he began to speak. If you could call it that. Eleanor was not quite sure what to make of it, but as he agreed with her observation, it at least seemed he was indeed Chapmann. What a relief. How awkward it would have been. Instead it only seemed someone had oversold his intelligence. Which again, would be a shame as she had hoped to make a friend, but not something he could be blamed for. Then, he cleared his throat and began to make a little more sense, had they been introduced?

His question made her blush. Unsure of whether it was the fact that he did not know her, or that she had expected him too, it nevertheless made the encounter slightly uncomfortable. “I’m Eleanor,” she said, hoping it would be enough, and held out a hand.“Virsaladze and Allen are supposed to help me with some research for my thesis. But they are both very busy, you know,” she waved a hand, “extra load, still haven’t caught up on everything since you were closed. And I've read some of your work, and thought 'hey, why not stop by and say hi'? You see, I’m writing about the physics of warlock powers, Nachon powers really, but I could not get dispensation to work with Nachons, so you know.” She rolled her eyes, “Eve Lowe must be really happy she gets to be the one controlling the narrative. Terrible person, don’t you think?”

She blushed when Idés asked who she was and that made him wonder if he had, in fact, now embarrassed her in some way. But he truly had no idea who she was. She held out her hand and introduced herself as Eleanor. Idés shook it as she went on to explain. Virsaladze and Allen are supposed to help me with some research for my thesis. That would explain it. The administration did indeed inform staff about new ph.d. students, but alas, Idés did not usually read those emails. That was his own fault, then. Virsaladze and Allen. It made sense she hadn’t received a lot of help, one could probably get through the better part of their education before those two had finished up their administrative tasks. Eleanore talked a lot, he noticed, as she went on to speak about his own work before he had a chance to respond to the first part. She then spoke about not being able to get dispensation to work with Nachons, which made sense, especially these days. Of course, it made him apprehensive that it was exactly this topic she approached him with. What was her motive here? Then, she mentioned Eve Lowe and he was less suspicious as she called her a terrible person.

Eleanore was also very direct, Idés thought, as well as how she spoke a lot. That was certainly a lot of information in very little time. He blinked again, his mind finally catching up to him. He nodded in agreement. “She’s certainly a character, yeah,” he then said, after a slight beat of silence, when he was sure she was done talking. “It’s easy, I suppose, to be an expert when you don’t have to back up your findings with peer-reviewed evidence.” He shrugged, crossing his arms and leaning up against the work table. What did he think of Eve Lowe? Well, he thought a lot of things. Like how the very foundation of her studies were financed by churchly funds. Or how she had made a career out of making her bigotry sound like facts. Or how she used personal insults and bullying as a way to keep other scientists from challenging her claims. “My suggestion would be that the young professor keep his focus on his Zeal manufacturing, as is his specialty, and keep the warlock work to the more experienced experts within Energology and the energetic fields within physics: both of which you’d be hard pressed to find a so-called expert in their twenties.” she had written about him. Which was so very petty. Yes, he agreed she was a terrible person. “Met her once, at a conference. Can't recommend it.”

He looked at Eleanore. She certainly seemed very young to be studying for her thesis – which, yes, was rich coming from him – and it occurred to him that she might be hard pressed to find any like minded people at the ICU or something, since she stopped by his lab of all places. So she probably wasn’t here just to insult his work. Probably. He got it, though, it was alienating being the young genius sometimes. And she seemed just slightly odd, which didn't really help in terms of finding friends. He decided to give her a chance.

“How have you been settling in, then?” He assumed she wasn’t from Ilomar City, but he might be mistaken, he then thought.

As Eleanor had expected, Idés Chapmann was not a big fan of Eve Lowe either, and it was only then, at his agreement, that she was ‘certainly a character’, when she felt herself relax, that she realised she had actually been nervous. Not much, she definitely had every right to be here, and she could come knocking at doors too, and she had probably been right in calling out his mistake too; who wouldn’t want to know something like that? But his confusion had thrown her off, and now she felt like she had regained some sense of control. Besides, if he didn’t know who she was, there was no reason he should dislike her. While she did not think he would judge her for the things the papers had written, for the things that really had nothing to do with her, if she remembered correctly, he was from Erast, had begun studying on a scholarship, and might be one of those people who would dismiss her as nothing more than the result of nepotism.

She laughed when Chapmann called out Lowe’s questionable scientific methods. It bothered Eleanor too, but there was not really anything she could do about it; Eve Lowe had the support of the church, and while it served their best interest to have Lowe say what she did, there was little use in trying to publicly contradict her. It might even border academic suicide if one wasn’t careful. She had spent a long time discussing it with her parents, both of whom thought she ought to steer clear of the subject. In Eleanor’s opinion there was nothing suspicious about her interest. It was only natural, she had argued, of course she would want to understand. Both from meeting her, and from reading Lowe’s publications, Eleanor was aware of the personal boundaries the woman would cross, and she felt no need to get dragged further into that. Chapmann, who had recently, in that blog post she had read that morning, been victimised by Lowe, had also had the misfortune of meeting her. “Oh my, so sorry you had to endure that,” she said, shaking her head. Lowe was, if anything, worse in person. She still remembered being a frightened child, being tested, not really sure what was going on, and Lowe, trying to spin the tragedy for her own agenda. Her parents had protested, and in the end Lowe had given up trying to push the ‘I just want to observe her behavioural pattern, so we can conclude that it is not some other genetic factor but only what can be expected from a Nachon.’  

“It has been alright,” She shrugged, fiddling with the thin gold bracelet she wore on her right wrist. He had asked her how settling in was going. “Thanks for asking,” She added after a moment of hesitation. What should she say? That it was hard to make friends when everyone here was so much older than her and treated her as a child? That there was nothing really for her to do? She was quite used to being alone, it didn’t really bother her if she stayed at home reading. It was a nice apartment. But none of this seemed very fitting to share with someone you had only just met. “I just don’t have much to do for now. Waiting around can get sort of boring... Did I interrupt something important?”

“Oh my, so sorry you had to endure that,” the way she said it made it sound like she, too, knew from personal experience. Which made Idés curious. Had Eleanor personally met the woman or was she just aware of the rumors? Lowe had a certain reputation for being, well, disrespectful towards her scientific colleagues. At the conference she did indeed have some colorful opinions about Idés work and his old mentor. He just priced himself lucky that it wasn’t public knowledge that his mother had been a Nachon, as she would certainly have had a field day. It was bad enough that he couldn’t escape the narrative of the poor Erast kid who was so charitably helped by the ICU. If people knew what said Erast childhood had actually entailed, gods, she would be insufferable.

She said she had been settling in all right while fiddling with a bracelet on her wrist. He wasn’t entirely sure whether to believe that. She thanked him for asking and then said she just didn’t have much to do for now. She said she was bored. It didn’t sound like the full story, but he also didn’t know her well enough to feel like it was his place to dig at it. He just knew from personal experience the ICU wasn’t always the most warm and inviting work environment. The fact was that  the scientific field had tough competition and everyone was laser focused on their own career. Everyone wanted to be the smartest person in the room and had very little time to help anyone else. Idés himself had just elected to focus on his own little bubble.

Did she interrupt something important? He shrugged, gesturing to the large machinery in the corner. The front piece was open, exposing the machinery inside. “Ah, well. Was just installing some upgrades on the EZPEC, been meaning to for a while.” He looked over at the EZPEC, doodats and parts littered the floor around it. He would definitely have to finish that before taking another crack at the calculations. “I’ve been hoping to achieve a larger Anchor-Vivacity-Point, but the model isn’t really built for higher than around 18-AVP at a time. Higher than that requires longer exposure time, but that makes the exposed material fall apart. My theory is that replacing the Flux-Magnetomotive with that of the YK351 model should bump it up to at least 21-AVP, which would mean more consistent results,” he explained, looking thoughtfully at the machine. “Or it’s gonna blow a fuse. The system should be able to handle it, though. If my math is right.” He glanced over at the miscalculations again, realizing that that didn’t seem too reassuring. So he shrugged again and added in a joking tone. “If there’s a power outage later, it wasn’t.”

Eleanor followed Chapmann’s gesture, curious to learn what he had done on the floor when she had come barging in. In her world most work was done either at a desk or a labcounter. And it had seemed a bit odd that the professor had disappeared to the floor. As she had suspected, the machine he had had his head stuck in was an EZPEC. And while it was not something she herself worked with, or was in any way familiar with, there was very little else it could have been in a laboratory such as this. He confirmed this, and explained to her the upgrade he had been doing on it. That explained  the screwdriver and the oil stain on his cheek; he had been working on it. Still she couldn’t see what the professor was tinkering with machinery for, didn’t the department have mechanics? Of course he might just find it interesting. She supposed it was a hobby of his. Which hopefully meant he knew what he was doing. Right then it mostly looked like one big mess, but it was hardly Chapmann’s fault for having to abandon his upgrades mid-work.

Eleanor nodded along as he explained, it made perfect sense but she could not help worry a bit about his claim that the system could handle the upgrade. So she laughed at his joke, perhaps a bit anxiously, for this reason: “I certainly hope so.” Letting go of the bracelet she was still fiddling with she added, “Not that I don’t trust your maths or anything.”  He had glanced at the papers in front of her, she had noticed and her words sounded empty. “I mean, you do know what you are doing? Do you often upgrade things around here?”  She nodded to the whole of the lab. “Wouldn’t have thought it part of your job description.”

The way that Eleanor laughed seemed a bit strained, as if she didn’t totally believe him. Even though she assured him that it wasn’t because she didn’t trust his math, Idés didn’t totally buy it. Although he hadn’t had any room to prepare for it, he still hadn’t given this woman the best first impression of his skillset. He rubbed the back of his neck and glanced over at the mess that was the current state of the EZPEC as she asked if he knew what he was doing. Which, of course he knew what he was doing, but being questioned like that still made him feel awfully insecure. Although he was somewhat used to being met with skepticism, it was hard to avoid as a young professor with opinions such as his, but it didn’t help with the sense that he had somehow scammed his way to his career. He shifted his weight to the other foot and crossed his arms, leaning against his work desk, trying to put the lingering feeling of inadequacy aside.

“I’ve always tinkered with stuff to some extent, I suppose. It’s how I started working with zeals,” he explained. “Strictly speaking, it isn’t part of my job description, no. But I’ve installed upgrades before with no issue. In my experience, understanding how equipment actually work is pretty valuable. Not a lot of people do, though. Plus, waiting for a technician can take a while. You probably know by now that the rate at which things get down around here isn’t super fast,” he said with a chuckle. He considered for a moment, realizing that the kind of gear he usually made use of wasn’t as common within her field. “You don’t make use of the EZPEC’s at all in your field, right?”

It was not entirely comforting, Eleanor thought, that professor Chapmann should seem so uncertain when looking at his machinery. Although by then, she was coming to terms with the fact that he just wasn’t the most confident guy to begin with. That was fine, she supposed, the committee would have chosen him on his skills, and she trusted their judgment. The not so nice part of her thought he ought to have grown a backbone, there was no way he would have been able to make it in a world like theirs if he was this unsure of himself… At least not if he let it show. But she didn’t comment on it, and as he started to talk he seemed to shift back into the role of the esteemed professor. It made her feel much more at ease, and she listened as he told her about his tinkering. Knowing how things worked was important, she could agree with that. In a way that was what she was researching; the workings of everything. Physics, she thought, was really just studying the workings of the universe. Or in her case, what some people referred to as magic.

She had to nod in agreement, when he mentioned how slow things were. It was why she had nothing to do. And apparently going to do research here, meant having to fix your own machinery. Well, good on her for not having as machine-heavy a subject as Chapmann. “No,” she answered his question, “I don’t. But it’s fascinating to see how some of the theories of our work are being used in practice…” She nodded to the machinery. “The proportions of energy matter and such. Theory is one thing, but I guess it has to come to an actual use too.” Whilst talking, she had been looking around the room, still trying to guess what everything was for. Now, she paused, and turned her gaze back upon the professor. “I have to admit, I don’t really know a lot about zeals. Mostly, I care about people. Or rather,” she waved her hand, clarifying, “about energetic manifestations in warlocks. I suppose you still run into a lot of people who think there is something ‘magical’ about zeals? Well, it’s even worse with warlocks. I am sure you know. And,” She lowered her voice, talking faster “–please don’t quote me on this, I am only confiding in you because I believe us to be on the same page about this–I do not like how this is used as religious propaganda. As if we didn’t already have a way of explaining these things…” She sighed, then realised how she was ranting. “I’m sorry, I’m just taking up your time, rambling. Guess I just really wasn’t prepared for the pace of things around here.” Meaning Virsaladze and Allen’s. She had to get to work soon, or she would be bored out of her mind.

Idés nodded as she spoke about how it was fascinating seeing how their two fields connected to one another. He agreed. He had always been a practical guy with a technical mind, so while he didn’t mind theory and abstract physics, it simply just made sense for him to make use of it rather than to expand upon it. But both were necessary within their fields. Zeals, if anything, proved the validity of the theory around elemental energy as a physical phenomenon and therefore, not something one could merely wave away as something magical and intangible. But the world of zeals would be extremely limited without a basic understanding of the physics that made them possible. He completely agreed.

Then, his eyes widened slightly at what she said next about energy and religious propaganda. It was certainly a controversial statement. And a dangerous one, if you read between the lines. Added with her criticism about Lowe, one could only guess what her viewpoint was regarding the blatant discrimination of nachon warlocks. While he completely agreed with her, a part of him couldn’t help but wonder if this was some kind of trap. This total stranger who came into his lab, just to criticize his perhaps biggest professional enemy and then proceed to do the same to the very religious institutions he was opposing. Considering that it wasn’t even a full month ago that he had been questioned by the Godia Warriors themselves it only made sense to approach topics like these with caution. Or perhaps she did actually hold the opinions she stated and she was, unlike him, not a political extremist who had to think twice about every opinion stated ever. She went on to apologize for rambling.

“It’s fine, no need to apologize.” He shifted again, moving his hands into the pockets of his lab coat. He had one last brief moment to figure out how to respond to said rant before it started to seem weird. For a split second, he considered his words before speaking. “There’s a lot of misinformation out there,” he agreed, with a nod. Then he sighed, rubbing his neck. “And censorship. You learn to navigate around it, but, yeah…” He paused, stopping himself before he said something that might be considered too critical. “It’s not ideal.”

She had complained about the pace yet again. And Idés, being as he was, couldn’t help but feel he should do something about that. Even if he didn’t know this woman or really owed her anything. But maybe he could help her in some way? He was a professor in the scientific faculty, which gave him the power to at least authorize some things concerning her research. Depending on what it was that she needed. Maybe so that she wouldn’t be completely stuck if he helped her out. He considered, then spoke again. “For what it’s worth, I might be able to help you out with some things,” he said. “Depending on what you need to continue, maybe I'm able to speed up the process somewhat. If you’re interested?”

Even as she spoke, Eleanor kept an eye on Chapmann’s reaction. She did not really think it was a long shot. Believing him trustworthy. Surely he would not keep the feud going with Lowe if he didn’t believe in the things he wrote. It was either that, or she desperately wanted to trust him. To trust anyone, really, with her honest opinions. As someone who very much disliked having to keep her mouth shut, the frustration of all the things she was told to avoid bringing up ate away at her. It was always harder not to do something, when you were told not to. Would he judge her, she wondered, if he knew her motivations? Probably not. He did not seem like the type to judge her for something so out of her control.

The controversy of her topic had not gone unnoticed. But to her relief, Chapmann looked surprised, but not angry. Unlikely to scold her or turn her in for spreading dangerous misinformation. Instead he seemed to agree with her definition of misinformation. Although he replied with something like care, as if weighing his words. If he truly did not know anything about her, it made some sense… How could he trust her? Then again, what was there to trust? The whole world knew where he stood on the issue, he had written articles about it. Then it almost seemed like he had wanted to say something more, only he didn’t; it made her curious. What opinion might he hold, that he felt was too controversial to share? Not ideal. Well, that was one way to put it.

“You would?” She asked, surprised at his offer of help. It really hadn’t been why she had come. But how could she refuse? “I mean, of course I am mostly stuck on the issue of experimentation.” She hesitated, thinking. He wouldn’t be able to speed that process up anyways. Getting access to test subjects, labs and the like, she would just have to accept the wait time. At least she had gotten the authorization. “And,” She continued with a slight frown, “I do feel pretty confident in most of my theory,” looking at Chapmann’s earlier miscalculations her frown deepened and she continued; “but then again, one can never be too sure. I would appreciate it, if you could take a look and tell me if everything sounds alright? Again, you do know a fair deal about energy, and, if I am not mistaken, you’re a warlock yourself? Earth, right? So perhaps there are some things I have overlooked? I really don’t want to bother you, but there are so many things I haven’t had the chance to discuss yet!”

He nodded, confirming that he was indeed willing to help her out. She went on to explain the stage at which she was stuck and he didn’t miss the way she looked down at his earlier miscalculations and he pressed his lips together at that – was a man not allowed to have an off-day around here? It really wasn’t representative of his usual work. But then she seemed to go back on it, giving him credit that he did indeed have a fair bit of knowledge about energy. Which, he did indeed. She asked if it was true that he himself had the powers of an earth kirscha and he nodded, though you could barely even call them powers. He seldom used them. They had never been able to afford training centers when he grew up and it wasn’t like it was something he ever had much interest in learning. Earth was something he could manipulate only in theory. In actuality, he couldn’t even keep a potted plant alive. Though he didn’t admit this. It was embarrassing enough that this woman probably already thought he couldn’t do basic math.

“It’s no bother at all,” he said, despite the fact that he already was quite busy with his own research and the EFA and Fallon and the Gwyn situation and his family. He’d find time for it all, somehow. It wasn’t like he needed much sleep anyways. “We can book a meeting? If you send me your theories, I can look it over before then.”

As for the issue of experimentation, Idés didn’t hold a lot of administrative power, but he knew the people who did by now. And had a good bet for why it might be taking a while. The amount of bureaucracy in place was honestly atrocious, but there was a way. A little trick he had learned in the time he worked as an assistant for the professor Martha Sutton. He shifted, crossing his arms. “As for the experimentation part… Well, the administrative team isn't exactly known for being speedy, it might be that your case has been marked low priority. Which is probably the reason Virsaladze and Allen aren’t getting much done either. Anyways, it’s a lot of bureaucracy, but,” he paused, gesturing with his hands. “You might be able to speed up the process somewhat if you go to speak to the secretary directly. Aubrey Fraser.” He paused, once again wondering why he was helping her out. Well, he at least hoped she appreciated it. He shrugged. “She likes her lattes on oat. Do with that what you will.”

As professor Chapmann confirmed his offer of help, Eleanor congratulated herself for having left her desk to go visit him. This was a step in the right direction, she was sure. This was doing something. She thanked him, beaming with excitement. “That would be great, thank you! I suppose you would have to look over your calendar first, but you can just give me a time when I send you the papers.” To say she wasn’t busy would be an understatement; she had, after all, already confessed to having nothing to do; and her private life looked equally empty. Well, she called her parents daily and was getting very proficient with the settings on her microwave oven, but she had no reason not to spend the majority of her time on campus, and even here it was hard to keep herself occupied.

She listened as he went on about the administrative team; so that was probably the case; low priority. Unsurprising. But annoying; she couldn’t help feeling a bit cheated; she had been promised something; had come here because of that, and now; nothing? “Aubrey Fraser,” she repeated. Mentally noting down the name of the woman who might be able to speed up some paperwork. She nodded. Oat Milk lattes. “Got it.” If bribery could do the trick, why not give it a shot? “I think I should go send you that mail,” and perhaps look up where she could find Fraser. “Good luck with your EZPEC.”