Chapter Thirty-One (Part Two)

When Dr. Hyden walked into his office from his last class of the day, Melody was waiting on him. "Miss Tinker?" he asked, looking around with a bewildered look on his face. "How long have you been here?"
Melody shrugged. "Not long at all."
"How did you get in? I lock my door at all times."
Melody shrugged again. "You left it open," she lied. Chester had taught her how to pick the lock. Dr. Hyden let out a deep sigh. "You haven't been poking around in my files, have you?"
"No," Melody frowned. "How am I supposed to know your password?"
Dr. Hyden took a long look at Melody, and suddenly decided she was attractive. "You know, Miss Tinker," he said, circling her uncomfortably, "if you weren't my student --"
Melody bristled. "Get your hands off my -- god, you're so disgusting!"
Startled by Melody's tone of voice, Dr. Hyden backed away.
"You know, I can have you reported to the chancellor for doing this." Melody was firm. "And don't think I don't know about you and Roxie Sharpe too."
"Who is Roxie Sharpe?" Dr. Hyden asked. "I don't have a student by that name."
"She isn't even one of your students? That makes it even worse."
"Seriously, Miss Tinker, I don't have an idea what you're talking about."
Melody turned around to face him. Inhaling deeply, she pieced together exactly what she was going to say. "I'm going to make a deal with you, Hyden."
Dr. Hyden didn't like the sound of that, but he listened anyway.
"I won't report these indiscretions of yours to the campus authorities -- if you agree to take my DNA test."
Dr. Hyden could do nothing but laugh. He knew he'd been backed into a corner. Either way, he was going to do something he didn't want to do.
"You're a smart lass, eh, Tinker?" Dr. Hyden managed to mutter.
"Yeah, well, I didn't steal it from anywhere." She took a deep breath. "So, what are you going to do?"
"I can't believe that you're still holding this over my head."
"Dr. Hyden, this charade has gone on long enough, it's time to find out the truth once and for all."

Chester Gieke rose from his bed the next day. He needed this time, this space, and discovered that he liked his own company. He needed to think about some things -- mostly the mess his love life had degenerated into. He'd wanted an understanding of women's motivations, but found that he was more confused than ever. And what Melody had said really made his head spin. He secretly (and not-so-secretly) hoped that what happened wouldn't damage his hopes of finally graduating from ALT.
So, with a heavy heart and a heavy mind -- he paid a visit to Aldrich. He found he MISSED living there -- missed the constant movement, missed the busy-ness, missed the noise. More importantly, he missed his friends. His apartment was usually silent, except for the noises from his computer game.
He and Melody walked straight toward the back greenhouse, unaware that they were being watched.
"Chester, we've got a problem," Melody whispered, with the cowplant seemingly listening to their every word.
"What do you mean?" wondered Chester, rubbing his chin.
"Well, the plant -- it -- it ate a sim just like we would eat a meal."
Shaking his head, Chester replied, "No, wait a minute, that's impossible. No way the plant could actually eat a simian. The only thing it takes in as nourishment is special fertilizer. That's what the instructions said."
"Well, it's clear this isn't an ordinary plant," Melody confirmed.
"No shit, Sherlock," laughed Chester. "Look at it, the thing has a cow head and fangs, for chrissakes! It's not supposed to look like that is it?"
Melody took a step back. Had the plant's chemistry changed when Chester's blood accidentally got onto the seeds? There was only one way for her to find out. After swabbing Chester's tongue, Melody peered into the powerful microscope. She pulled away, rubbing her eyes. 'I must be getting tired,' she thought, wiping the lens of her glasses.
Leaning forward again, she peered down onto the sliver of glass and shook her head. "It can't be," she whispered.
"Anything wrong?" Chester asked, approaching.
"Give me your hand," she demanded, grabbing a sterilized needle.
"Whoa!!" Chester protested, stepping back.
"Aww, c'mon," she said, grabbing his fingers.
Chester yelped as he felt the pin prick on the fleshiest part of his thumb.
"Owwww!! THAT HURT!"
"Wuss," she grinned, "all I wanted was a drop of blood."
Chester took one look at the smear of blood on his thumb, and promptly vomited.
Melody shook her head and let out a deep sigh. "You are worse than my kid sister," she said as she closed her eyes and cleaned Chester off with a towel.
"It's not my fault needles give me the creeps. When I was little I actually ran from the doctor. My parents had to hold me down to have my shots."
Chester looked up, into Melody's eyes. He couldn't forget those eyes, those big, piercing, can't-miss-anything brown eyes. He'd already decided they were her most noteworthy feature. They stood in sharp contrast to his own -- so inconspicuous that his glasses could very well substitute for them.
He knew instantly where he'd seen those eyes -- on a portrait of Dr. Hyden hanging in his office. They were the same ones, the same large, piercing brown eyes. He couldn't help but think -- was it really true? Could it be?

"An invite to the Goth mansion?" Edwin asked Melody over dinner. "You cannot be serious! Do you realize how big a deal this is?"
Melody shrugged. "It's not really that big of a deal."
"Do you know who he is?!?" Marla exclaimed. "He's only the most important man in all of Sim City. And the fact that you and Chester have been granted a private audience with him -- I mean that doesn't happen, like, ever. Especially not to lowly college students like us."
"Do you know what you're going to say to him?" Edwin asked.
"I guess, we're going to explain our project --"
Edwin took a deep breath. "That thing in the greenhouse out back?"
Melody sighed. "How do you know about that?"
"C'mon, Mel, it's not that big of a secret, you know. I know you and Chester have been up all night, every night, and you sneak out back every morning with a notepad."
Melody bristled. "How do you know all that?"
"Hey, you forget I lived in an apartment with the two loudest people on the face of the earth. You kind of get used to certain things after awhile."

Melody had asked Marla to help her pick out something to wear to the Goth mansion. "I'm no good at this," she complained.
"You'll find something to put on," Marla smiled.
"But I only own one dress!"
"Wear it."
"But it's not right, I mean, this is the Goth mansion we're talking about. And you know a whole lot more about clothes than I do."

Inside the Goth mansion, Melody and Chester jostled each other, shuffling uncomfortably. They were here by special invitation. Even though this elderly man barely reached their shoulders, with his stooped posture, he still commanded an air of authority. His watery eyes missed nothing.
"You CAN enter you know," he grumbled, rubbing at his lower back, "and make sure you close that door. The damp air plays havoc with my old joints."
Slowly they peered in. "You first," Chester whispered, nudging Melody on her shoulder. Melody took a deep breath. This was THE Mortimer Goth, who'd made his living with fabulous gadgets and years of studying extraterrestrial and paranormal phenomena. He'd amassed the most impressive fortune in all of Sim City, making Landgraab look like a pauper in comparison.
"I've heard you young'uns have been doing some good work." Mortimer chewed on his mustache and patted his head.
Melody could remember only two other occasions during which she'd truly been awestruck -- first, by meeting Darren Dreamer, and second, by meeting Dr. Hyden. This one, however, dwarfed them both.
Mortimer Goth managed to be both frail and imposing at the same time. The crotchety old CEO of Goth Industries told the pair to sit in his elegant, spacious dining room.
Melody, sharp eyed as usual, instantly spotted the pain in Mortimer's eyes, the accentuated gruffness in his voice and the slow way he moved from A to B. His spine, once straight as an arrow, now slightly curved, with his shoulders hunched in an exaggerated stoop "Alexander?" Mortimer called softly, "our guests are here."
From nowhere, creeping spectrally silent into the hallway, a tall, lanky, bespectacled boy appeared. "He's such a shy boy," Mortimer shook his head. "Completely withdrawn himself from everything, ever since his mother vanished."
Melody picked up the tone of regret in this elderly gent's voice. She and Chester already knew the story by memory. Several years ago, when Alexander was but a tot, Mortimer's wife, the legendary beauty Bella Bachelor Goth, had vanished. The current theory was that she'd been stargazing on Don Lothario's condo deck and been abducted by aliens. In his spare time (when he wasn't running and hiding from everyone) Chester spent a great deal of time researching the 'Bella Goth' conspiracies.
No one knew for sure what had happened to her. Ever since he saw (or thought he saw) a perfect lookalike wandering through Strangetown, he himself had many unproven theories of his own. Not renowned for being a 'sensitive soul' (Chester concluded that Edwin and Marla fit that bill) he himself saw the deep aura of sadness circling Mortimer.
Alexander stopped short, his mouth hung open at the sight of two strangers sitting at his dinner table.
"Alexander," his father called softly, "why don't you join us?"
Alexander flushed brightly before turning and fleeing.
Alexander was always in awe of his father. Keeping silent all the time but overhearing these two discussing his father's sorrow, an overwhelming urge crept over him. After all, wasn't he himself a witness to the wanton debauchery of his step mother Dina? She was always on the phone, calling all her 'conquests.' It was common knowledge that they didn't always get on. Actually, that was an understatement -- they hated each other on sight. Alexander didn't like Dina the moment he first saw her. Tall, blond, and beautiful, Dina slithered her way into his father's life like a snake. He hated the way she wrapped her slinky arms around him, how she told him everything she thought he wanted to hear. Especially after the disappearance of Bella, Dina was a ray of sunshine in his dark, dreary life. Or so he thought.
Why were they here? Alexander wondered. Were they here to pry? Were they spies?
Meanwhile, Mortimer's excellent turkey dish sat on the table. Melody, not usually one to eat, was famished after spending hours buried underneath stacks of yellowing texts in the Le Tour library.
Melody glanced over at Chester and saw him hyperventilating as he took his seat. Which meant, as usual, it would be up to her to explain the experiment.
Chester couldn't believe where he was, or where his journey with Melody had taken him. A year ago he wouldn't have dared to set foot in the Goth mansion, in the presence of a man he admired greatly. Now he was there, in his presence, explaining his work.
There was a definite air of hostility, when Melody and Chester came face to face with Dina.
Narrowing her eyes suspiciously, she shifted Manuel's heavy weight from one hip to the other.
Melody couldn't help noticing the resemblance to his mother.
His chubby fingers played with Dina's own hair as he nodded to sleep, his tiny little head lolling on her chest.
"Please excuse me," said Dina turning abruptly, "I'd better get this little man to bed."
His eyes were tight shut, so they couldn't quite see if he had Dina's or Mortimer's eye colour, but the resemblance to Dina was indeed very striking.
Meanwhile, the phone rang. "I'm sorry," Mortimer said, his tone regretful, "I've got to take this." Chester and Melody watched in awe as Mortimer disappeared toward the kitchen, where the phone was located. "Alexander, be a good host until I return."
Alexander inhaled deeply and closed his eyes. He didn't know these two, had never seen them before in his life, but yet they seemed strangely familiar to him, like he'd seen them before in another dimension.
Alexander slid into his chair, his eyes alternating between Chester and Melody, his face hopeful and expectant. But soon enough, his attention strayed to Melody. The easy going attitude she had, the way she gave him her full attention when he asked questions. It could have been his fertile imagination, or even his raging teen hormones. But he felt that Melody made him appear the single most important person at that table.
Melody herself, was flattered by the rapt attention this soft-spoken teenage boy gave her. How his pallid complexion flushed whenever she answered his questions and smiled at him.
Chester waited until the taxi pulled toward the curb. Then he pounced. "He was flirting with you," he declared loudly.
"What?" Melody was stunned.
"He was hanging on every word you said."
"C'mon, Chester, he's a kid. When kids see grownups around them, they're gonna mimic everything they say."
"Not the way he was 'mimicing.' He couldn't keep his eyes off of you." They walked into the taxi and rode back to Le Tour, jostling and needling each other the whole way.