Free Dedication (The Medicean Stars Saga Book 1) by McCullough Crawford Page B

occasional partial wall or column sticking out remains. Already the lot is fenced off, and several contractors’ signs brazenly declare this lot as their claimed territory. Soon this lot too will hold a tower glimmering into the sky, casting its shadow on the towers around it and the people hurrying along the sidewalks at their base.
    The light changes, and they make their way forward once more, travelling along the dark pavement with a press of other cars. The noise and smell of the city that would have been infiltrating the car by now is somehow kept at bay by the moisture in the air itself, as it seems to thicken the air into a sodden blanket. Turning off the main street, they roll behind a more modest building featuring concrete and metalwork in its façade and into the attached parking garage.
    Pulling through the gate, they pass through the drip line of the building above them, and the rain, which has begun falling more steadily, parts like a curtain, revealing wet trails where cars have traveled before them. After weaving through nearly the entire parking structure, they find a spot tucked between a massive family vehicle and the concrete wall of the stairwell. Jon’s advisor pulls the car into the spot, leaving each of them just enough room to slide out. This maneuver, however possible, is not one accomplished quickly, nor can it be done without transferring a significant amount of water from the car’s body to their clothes. Fortunately all of their presentation materials are in the back of the car facilitating easy removal.
    Once at the back, Jon uses the time that it takes her to open the trunk and sort through their collection of posters to attempt to brush off his suit. Contemplating the water and light brown dirt that seems embedded within the heather gray of his Jacket, he mentally bemoans the fact that he will undoubtedly need to get it cleaned now, a luxury that he can ill afford on his current income. Having gathered all their posters and removed the most obvious smudges on their clothes, Professor Esmali asks Jon if remembers which room they are assigned to. His shrug prompts a furious rummaging in the papers still in the trunk to find the one containing their room number. One of largest annual conferences in their field, the event takes over the entire hotel, and each of the twenty plus conference rooms is stuffed with bright intellectual minds striving to best each other.
     
    *
     
    After they have set up their booth, Jon pulls out the stack of note cards he has prepared with interesting facts about his research and begins to prepare himself for the hours of inevitable small talk. Reviewing each one, he thinks of the card’s content in the context of a witty joke, something to make the other academics appreciate his grasp of the subject. He does this not because he is unsure of the subject, but so that he is able to project the appearance that is so critical at these events.
    Completing the round of his cards once, Jon checks his watch and notices that the open session is to start in five minutes. His advisor, however, has been missing since their booth was set up. Normally she would be fidgeting with the posters and stacks of abstracts until the first curious visitor stopped by their table, but today she is missing, and in fact Jon notices that some of the posters actually require some small adjustments. He turns to begin straightening the cardboard and the cheap table cloth covering their table. Once their display is satisfactory, he opens his bag and stuffs the notecards inside. As he is standing after shoving his bag farther under the table, he notices that the relatively soothing murmur of people preparing their booths has given way to the gradually surging noise of the conference itself.
    The noise begins on the far side of the room, but it steals down the aisles like the ocean returning from a low tide, as people complete the final touches on their booths and begin to take an interest in their