<strong>Name</strong>:Brandon St. Clair (http://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=132556.msg6773050#msg6773050)<br/><strong>Nom De Guerre</strong>: Wingfoot<br/><strong>Position</strong>: Student - 2nd year<br/><strong>Location</strong>Cafeteria<br/><strong>Tagged</strong>:Molly<br/><strong>Wearing</strong>Black Adidas exercise pants, and purple t-shirt with a yellow star and stylized "Nebula - 2012" in a circle around the star, recently purchased cross-trainers( Mizuno )<br/><br/>He felt anxious.  In fact; he'd felt anxious pretty much constantly for the last two days and the prospect of being poked and prodded by a team of scientists or doctors...or doctor-scientists didn't exactly thrill him.<br/><br/><em>Shit...what if it's robots?  This place is so crazy...they could have robots.  Robots that take my blood and shine lights in my eyes and...do robot things to me?</em><br/><br/>He was walking down a pristine white hallway, with official looking doors spaced evenly down the hall but none of them was the nurses office.  What he really noticed was the lighting.  Not the actually light coming from them but the sound...or the lack thereof.  His hearing was better than most and it was amazing how "loud" lighting fixtures could be...and annoying.  Public libraries...offices...schools...the lighting was always cheap and always incredibly distracting but here...everything was whisper-quiet.<br/><br/>In fact...whisper-quiet was a disservice to how silent the lighting was.  All he could hear was the squeak of his sneakers as he walked down the hall and his anxious breathing.  He stood outside the nurse's office for thirty seconds, trying to dispell the anxiety before opening the door and stepping inside the office.  His eyes opened wide in awe as he took in the sight of the nurse.  She was...unbelievable and he spoke in a low, awe-filled voice.<br/><br/>"...wow.  You're not a robot at all..."