Sometimes It Is Rocket Science Read Online Free PDF Page B

His second wind had faded halfway through dinner.  While he’d been dining on heart-healthy cuisine, Cedric had sent preliminary data on Collier Analytics.  He was dying to dive into the information, but the pillows looked so inviting.  He managed to toe off his shoes before falling, face first, on the bed.  He never noticed when NORA turned off the lights.
     

Chapter Four:
     
     
    Georgiana gently pulled the front door shut.  Though the bedrooms were on the third floor, she knew how well sound traveled up the staircases.  She crouched to unbuckle the straps around her ankles.  A small spotlight flickered on above her left shoulder. 
    “Thanks, ERIC.”  She affectionately ran her fingertips along the wall before slipping off her dress shoes and tucking them under her arm. 
    ERIC’s voice, a soothing tenor voice chosen from a database by Dan, was softened to a whisper as he listed the vital signs of house’s other occupant.  He wasn’t programmed for it, but Georgiana swore she could hear sympathy in the AI’s tone.  She quickly and silently made her way up two flights of stairs.
    No interior lights were on and all the curtains were drawn to keep out the moonlight and streetlights.  Georgiana could navigate the third floor hallway blindfolded, sick, and, as she’d learned after her MIT graduation, blindingly drunk.  She unerringly stepped into her bedroom.  The door had been removed, along with all others except for the front door, five months earlier.  Dark fabric shower curtains suspended by tension rods across the bathroom and closet doorways allowed the illusion of privacy. 
    She grabbed the old MIT t-shirt and yoga pants she wore for pajamas off the end of the bed.  The bathroom attached to her bedroom was cool and still.  The overhead lights slowly grew brighter.
    “No,” she bit out, turning her head sharply from the mirror.  “Turn them off.”
    Georgiana didn’t need lights to change clothes or wash off her makeup, and she didn’t want to have to look at her reflection.  She didn’t want to see the sunken eyes and hollowed cheeks.  She couldn’t stand looking at the utter failure reflected in the mirror.
    She bumped her shins twice on the toilet while changing into her pajamas.  Her hands shook and her knees trembled.  Tears pricked the corners of her aching eyes.  She had only picked at her dinner, and she needed to eat.  Since that awful phone call from NORA about Dan’s attack, she’d been running on adrenaline.  Food had been relegated to an afterthought.  Not that she’d had much of an appetite since early October.
    Shortly after installing ERIC, she’d set up drink dispensers in several rooms on the third floor.  There was a microwave in the small sitting room between the two smaller bedrooms and a mini-fridge in each bedroom.  She’d tried to make things as convenient as possible.
    All the machines were wired to the same tanks of orange juice, milk, filtered water, and apple juice and they all included a paper cup dispenser.  The tanks were stored in the main refrigerator on the second floor; a free hose was available for dispensing soda or any other drink on the refrigerator’s queue.  Georgiana lifted a paper cup out of the holder and pressed the button for orange juice.
    Once the cup was filled, she lifted it to her lips.  Hopefully the cold, tart drink would soothe her scratchy throat and raise her blood sugar level.  Rather than sweet, pulpy orange juice, a thick, vanilla-flavored liquid coated her tongue.  She swallowed reflexively, licked her lips clean of the gritty residue. 
    “What was that?” she asked, glaring up at the space she knew a sensor was located.
    “A protein shake.  My records indicate that you are currently fifteen pounds underweight, and the results from this morning’s urine analysis fall just outside minimum parameters.”
    “You’re supposed to monitor Tab, you know-it-all electronic nag.”
    “I am programmed to