Free The Tau Ceti Transmutation (Amazon) by Alex P. Berg

basic purpose—one that resulted in more SEUs in the bank for the architects and builders.
    Carl and I shuffled into the building and took a lift to the third floor, working our way down a cream and white hallway edged with elaborate baseboards and crown molding before ending at the address our lost-and-then-found sock-clad slip had indicated.
    The door winked open, and we walked into an austere room with only four pieces of furniture in it: three plush chairs and a slim, curved, clear plastic desk that reminded me of a wave cresting upon an invisible shore. Behind the desk, in one of the chairs, a woman sat.
    She was short, just over a meter and a half, with big dark eyes and long, chestnut brown hair held in a tight ponytail. The slim nose perched on the front of her face held a bit of a curl to it, but in a natural way, not one forced by awkward manipulative surgery.
    On the far wall across from the woman, images from a projector spun and swirled—proteins folding and molecular diagrams assembling. Within the maelstrom sat static equations featuring lots of symbols that weren’t a part of the traditional English alphabet.
    The woman jabbered away at someone on her Brain as we entered. “—but that’s exactly what I told the oversight board. I know they expect a grant proposal in by tomorrow morning, but the problem is we can’t submit it without knowing the T-base sequencing mechanics, and our programs to model them haven’t finished processing the projections. Unless the dean kicks McDougal off the cluster in the next half hour, I can’t imagine we’ll be able to finish in time, much less analyze the results.”
    She finally noticed us. “Hey, can you hold a sec?” She turned toward Carl and I. “My office hours are from oh-fourteen hundred to oh-sixteen hundred on the same days as my lectures.”
    I glanced at Carl. “Why does everyone always assume they know what I want? First Keelok, then that Dirax, now one of the finest minds Cetie U has to offer. You’d think people would ask more and assume less. You know what they say about people who assume, right?”
    “Excuse me?” said the woman.
    “Nothing,” I said. “We’re not students. Are you Professor Castaneva?”
    “Well, clearly he’s not a student,” she said, gesturing at Carl and his robotic physique. “And yes, I am.” Her eyes narrowed. “Are you from the funding committee? Maybe you can talk some sense into the oversight board. I’ve been interfacing via Brain with Darna all morning, but she can’t seem to get them to grant us an extension. Maybe if—”
    “Slow down. I’m not with any board. The name’s Rich Weed. I’m a P.I.”
    “Yeah, so?” she said. “I am, too. Just about everyone on our faculty is. Are you here about a collaboration? Because now’s not a good time.”
    I blinked. “Wait… what? You’re a private investigator, too?”
    “What? No.” The professor shook her head. “I’m a principal investigator. The head of a research project. You’re really a private dick?”
    “Whoa, watch the language,” I said. “Carl here gets easily offended.”
    “He’s joking,” said Carl. “He does that a lot. But to answer your question, yes, we are.”
    “Darna, let me call you back,” said Professor Castaneva, waving us in and pointing us toward the two open chairs. “Sorry about that. I’ve been up to my elbows in grant bullshit all day. Makes me snappy. So you guys are private investigators, huh? I didn’t know those still existed.”
    “Few people do,” I said as I took a seat. “We’re something of a dying breed, Professor.”
    “Call me Fran,” she said. “Professor Castaneva makes me sound too much like my father. So what’s going on? What brings a pair of private eyes my way?”
    “We’re investigating a case,” I said.
    Fran raised her eyebrows. “Yeah…I figured as much. I may not have any experience with detective work, but I do have a Ph. D., you know. I was looking for more