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Hannum noticed me peering around the corner. “What do you want?” It wasn’t a question, really. More of a “Get out of my business!” sort of growl.
    “I’m waiting for Dr. Matoska,” I said.
    “He’s not with the university anymore!”
    I raised my eyebrows.
    “He’s right, I’m afraid,” said Matoska, turning around for the first time. He was pale, with a mustache and a soul patch, but he hadn’t shaved the rest of his face recently. He had the weirdest eyes—one was light hazel and the other one was dark brown.
    I stared, unable to help myself.
    “What did you need?” he asked. He was frowning now, not recognizing me. Not surprising—we’d never seen each other before.
    “I can wait,” I said. “Sounds like you’re in the middle of it.”
    Hannum said, “I told you, he’s not with the university anymore!”
    With my face still on Dr. Matoska’s mismatched eyes, I said quietly, “He keeps saying that.”
    Dr. Matoska snorted.
    I turned back to Dr. Hannum. “I’m not with the university either .”
    “Then what do you want?” he snapped.
    I put a puzzled expression on my face. “Nothing from you .”
    Matoska’s lips twitched up.
    Hannum’s mouth worked like a fish out of water, but before he came up with something to say I added, “I’ll just wait in your office, then, Dr. Matoska,” and retreated around the corner.
    Back in Matoska’s office I put the cap back on the scotch bottle and moved it out of sight, behind one of the boxes.
    Matoska came back ten minutes later, a profoundly irritated look on his face. He glanced at the desktop and then at me.
    “I drank it,” I said.
    At his look of alarm, I said. “Kidding. Put it out of sight. Didn’t know if the university police would be coming back with you.” I moved the box aside, to show him.
    “Ah. Good thought. Who are you?”
    “I’m Cent,” I said. “I’m here about the MCP suit.”
    Matoska stared at me. “Since you’re not with the university, you’re not trying to get into one of my seminars. Are you from MIT? Did Dava Newman send you over?”
    I shook my head. My research had led me to Dr. Newman as well, but I didn’t think she’d be able to help me soon enough. They were painstakingly working through the problems, but Matoska was closest to a working prototype.
    “So what’s your interest?”
    I wanted to pull back the sleeve of my sweatshirt and show him the scab from my frostbite. I wanted to say, I got this at forty-five thousand feet.
    I didn’t think he’d believe me.
    “I represent an investor.”
    He rolled his eyes. “You know, kid, this is not at all a good day to waste my time.”
    Kid.
    I shouldn’t have been offended. I’m only seventeen. Still, when I took the legal-sized manila envelope out of my shoulder bag, I flipped it out, to land on the desk in front of him, a lot harder than necessary. It was over a half inch thick, after all, and it hit the desktop with a resounding thwap .
    He stared at it.
    “What’s this?”
    “Funding.”
    He tore open the flap and stared at the bundled cash. “Are those hundreds?”
    I nodded. “Ten bundles. One hundred notes each. Ten K a bundle.” I let him do the rest of the math.
    “A hundred thousand dollars?”
    “Ayup.”
    Matoska opened his mouth to say something, but it took him a while before he managed, “What do you expect for it?”
    “Continued development. Later, we want a working suit.” I tilted my hand toward the money. “For more money, of course. This is for research.”
    He blinked like an owl , I swear.
    “Do you have a draft agreement for me to look at? Do you expect rights to the IP?”
    “IP?”
    “Intellectual property. Patents etcetera.”
    “Oh.” I shook my head. “It’s a grant, not a loan. Your work is your work. Just spend it wisely.”
    “On my rent?”
    “You can’t do research without a place to live, Doc. I realize you just lost your job. If you have to use some of it to cover living costs, that seems