The Ivory Tower

Chapter 2- Food for Thought

As a child, Oliver had owned a simple, spherical white alarm clock that sat on his bedside table and mocked him incessantly every morning with its blaring, piercing, excruciating wailing, at six o'clock on the dot. Eventually, Oliver had trained himself to wake up one minute before six, just so that he could have the satisfaction of beating the dastardly contraption at its own game. He got to the point where he didn't even need the alarm clock. He had become the alarm clock. But he never did get rid of it. The deep gratification that came with pressing the 'sleep' button seconds before it went off was simply too great.

And so it was that Oliver's eyes popped open at 5:59, and his hand shot out to remind the clock of its rightful place, only to hit the plaster wall with an unpleasant thwack. Oliver yelped and drew his hand back to him, cradling it against his side for a moment before sighing and rising somewhat ruefully, glancing to the right at the expressionless wall that stood where his clock normally sat, back at Harvard. He almost missed the little plastic bastard. But not quite. Oliver was not the sentimental sort, and he had trashed the clock before he moved.

Oliver didn't like carrying around unnecessary baggage, and every time he moved, he seemed to find a few more things he didn't need.

In the end, the only thing of true value was his insatiable mind.

His living quarters within the lab consisted of two simple, conjoined rooms, plus a bathroom. One featured a bed and a dresser. The other held a mini kitchen, a couch, a television, and a breakfast nook overlooking a lovely view of the 120 meter drop into the Atlantic. The space was thus far bare and undecorated, except for a luminescent jellyfish paperweight that Oliver had brought with him, captured in glass and frozen in time. It sat in the center of the circular breakfast table, and it's sole purpose was to offer a dab of color to the otherwise dull room. He'd actually almost forgotten it back in his room at Harvard, but the custodian had come running out of the building after him to return it. Oliver had thanked him graciously, even if he was only mildly glad to have it back. Perhaps there were a couple old memories stuck to it here and there, but it really would've been no big loss to have left it behind.

From his newly stuffed pantry, Oliver snagged a mystery food bag, which turned out to be apricots, and shrugged on the crisp white lab coat he had been offered the previous day. He would not be late for his first day on the job.

He flung the door open, and raced around the corner, only to crash into a tiny, mousey figure who happened to be racing in the opposite direction.

Oliver groaned, and scolded himself inwardly for being so prone to physical mishaps. "I am so sorry, are you alright?" He adjusted his glasses and straightened up, lending a hand to the fallen passerby, and finding to his great surprise that it was a child.

The dusty, somewhat fragile looking boy took his hand, but did not actually use it as he helped himself up, and looking at the boy's sharp nose and hickory hair, only a few shades darker than Finnick's, Oliver felt a spasm of deja vu shudder up his spine. "I'm okay." The boy confirmed, although he looked a bit winded, and a little nervous as well.

"I'm sorry you had to suffer for my ineptitude at, well, walking. Do you, erm, work here?" The moment he asked the question, Oliver realized how stupid it was, but he couldn't think of any other logical explanation for the child's presence in the laboratory. He couldn't have been older than nine or ten years old.

"I'm Madoc's brother. I live here." He answered quietly, and it took Oliver a moment to realize that the child was referring to Finnick. It took him another moment to process and puzzle over the information. Where was this kid's mother?

The child shuffled his feet unconsciously. Oliver noted the gesture.

"Well, nice to meet you!" Oliver began, smiling in a way that he hoped was reassuring. "My name is Oliver Blanc. I'm the new neurologist and psychologist." A brief moment of vaguely awkward silence settled in around them as the child shuffled his feet some more. "I don't believe I caught your name?"