Free 4 Rainy Days and Monday by Robert Michael

science was outstripping centuries of ignorance and fear fomented by religious zealots and charlatans. Andronicus believed God existed: he just found him to be humorless and lacking creativity. Mankind could be so...predictable. If Man was made in God’s image, then, Andronicus believed that equality with Him could be mastered. Science was the tool, the great equalizer that would elevate humanity. A modern Tower of Babel.
    Science enabled him to remain relatively young. Viveri had not discovered De Leon’s fountain of youth, but had invented the next best thing. Along with drugs like Sychol and most of modern technology, Viveri was on the cutting edge of science.
    As Andronicus strolled along the heavily carpeted outer ring around the room, he noted stares that washed over him. He was used to that. He wanted to draw their attention and keep them wondering. Several conversations dropped to a hush as they observed his entrance. A quiet buzz persisted.
    Dr. Matt Bernhard Spreckles worked alongside several other scientists. His group seemed particularly entranced with their work. They continued to talk. A young blonde-haired woman spoke boldly in argument to a point. Spreckles smiled warmly and patted the shoulder of the recipient of her sharp tongue in consolation. He bent down and mouthed a few words Andronicus could not catch.
    Andronicus took a moment to observe the man. Late fifties. Tall. Slender. Steady hands. Quick smile. Severe widow’s peak with a shock of silver hair on his left, swept back in a German style out of date for near a century. In his white lab coat and dark suit, he appeared to be a doctor straight out of a Sherlock Holmes novel. Andronicus would have to contain himself. Part of him wanted to tease the poor doctor about appearing as a famous magician.
    He kept his composure, his face set in a mask of dark displeasure and judgment. People behaved differently if they felt judged by a superior. He found this to be an effective way to manipulate common people to his will. God would do the same thing, he convinced himself. It also helped that he was physically imposing.
    Andronicus understood deep down that he was overcompensating for his brush with shame and ridicule. Whatever it took to retrieve his status.
    He cleared his throat.
    All eyes snapped to him. He held his cigar aloft with one meaty hand, motioning them to continue.
    “I presume you are the representative from our benefactor?” Spreckles asked in German, his nose wrinkling at the sight of the offending cigar.
    “Is there somewhere we might speak in private?” he asked, his voice rumbling in his chest.
    Spreckles glanced at his blonde aid and she nodded to a small room in a nearby alcove. It was filled with cabinets and sported a thick, solid door.
    “Follow me, please,” he said in English.
    “My pleasure,” he returned in Portuguese.
    The doctor smiled appreciatively and nodded.
    Andronicus followed the doctor, ignoring the stares he received. He pressed his cigar into the metal worktable where the blonde assistant had been working.
    He glanced at her and gave her a knowing smile.
    She did not return it.
    It was just as well, really. He had no time for pleasure.
    The doctor closed the door behind him. The room was normally spacious. It was stuffed full of equipment, a table, and several cabinets. It offered a windowed view into the lab. It seemed to be someone’s office, perhaps.
    A leather armchair was propped against a filing cabinet. A box of leftover Chinese food sat open on the table and a pair of chopsticks left perched on the edge of the box. The smell of MSG wafted over to him, making his stomach clench.
    He caught the doctor’s eyes.
    “Exquisite creature you have there,” he noted.
    Spreckles seemed taken aback.
    “Veronica?” He looked back out the window into the makeshift lab. “She’s been my assistant since she was a child. She is my niece,” he said. He sounded mildly offended.
    Andronicus smiled wickedly.
    “A