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Unfortunately, some formatting did not get transferred to DeviantArt's text input. If you find some odd phrasing, some of it may be in italics. Please pardon this.

“Sir, please let the young lady down.”

“Your ignorance lends you the benefit of doubt. Do you not see her medical band on her wrist?”

A commotion had formed at a tram stop after someone called the police on Professor Stevenson. They had seen him carry what appeared to be a very young lass aboard the public transport, and voiced their concern about the health and well-being of the girl to the operator. Unfortunately for the operator, no amount of convincing was enough to sway the caller from believe that the girl was being kidnapped - so a rookie was sent to investigate quickly, and to return even quicker.

“I do see it, sir. I need the young lady’s permission to activate it, as protocol dictates, and I was asking as a formality. Is she unable to stand unassisted?”

The girl’s head rested against Stevenson’s right shoulder, her arms tucked neatly at her waist. Her slender legs overflowed from his embrace, hanging over his left arm delicately. She made no attempt to answer the policewoman’s question, who was swiping through layers of menus on her slate.

Stevenson answered in her stead. “She is unable to do so much as lift her head to greet you. Which I’m sure,” he added sarcastically, “she’s very much trying to.”

“In that case, ma’am,” the young officer directed her attention towards the girl lying in the arms of Stevenson, “may I activate your bracelet?”

Once again, she made no indication of wanting to speak a word to the officer. She merely blinked once, deep blue eyes glazed over in faraway thought. The policewoman was failing to keep her patience in check, although most would agree that it was difficult to do so in the presence of the Professor, and was about to ask a second time when Stevenson interjected, “As her guardian, I grant you permission.”

The policewoman gingerly lifted the girl’s right arm upwards, and activated the holographic projection of her medical information by a light tap on the white band. A blue ring appeared around the band, displaying in a very vivid manner:

‘Identity-Protected Individual. Medical Contact: Dr. Redmond, referral 356’

The policewoman had very obviously heard of Redmond, for her eyes widened slightly at the sight of the name. “I presume the Dr. Redmond mentioned here is the Dr. Redmond of Livinston University?”

“That would be correct, ma’am. Would that be sufficient information for you to allow me to enter the tram, which need I remind you, is being held up by the unfortunate placement of your vehicle?” He glanced casually at the squad car, parked directly in front of the tram lane. With a sudden need to leave the premise, the policewoman bid the two a good-day and sped off down the street. Stevenson cast a final sneer towards her disappearing car. “Amateur.”

Upon boarding the restless tram, Stevenson scanned the rows for handicapped seating, but found a teenager asleep on the only one available, earpods plugged in and blasting some sort of electro-funk. As he continued his way towards the center of the bus, an elderly woman motioned him over as she slowly rose.

“Please, take my seat.”

The professor dipped his head in thanks. “Thank you greatly, ma’am.”

She smiled in return. “I noticed her medi-band – not many have the full red ring.” She was referring to a thin red line that ran along the entire length of the white band, meeting at the very top around the activation button, a silver cross.

Stevenson adjusted the girl’s posture to be sitting on his lap rather than lying in his arms. “That is quite perceptive of you - unlike a certain someone I just had the pleasure of dealing with.” The girl seemed to blink in response - but not much emotion can be conveyed through a single blink, and the woman paid her no mind.

“Oh, not really. My son has a half-band. An army boy, you know? He had an accident when he was deployed last year, and was discharged just a few months ago. He was quite proud of his red badge of courage, as he calls it,” she chuckled. “Told me that his squad-mates only had a quarter- or eighth-ring.”

“I assume he is doing well now, then? He sounds quite lively.”

“Oh, yes, he’s totally fine!” she waved her hand in emphasis. “I made it sound a little too dramatic, didn’t I?” The girl blinked a few times as if replying, yes, a little too dramatic, don’t you think? The woman noticed this, of course, and apologized, “Did I upset your daughter? I’m terribly sorry for making such a fuss -”

Stevenson shook his head quickly. “Oh, no, she is not my daughter. I’m just a legal guardian of hers - and I’m bringing her to the University where I teach to sightsee a little bit. Unfortunately, I didn’t have the foresight to purchase a wheelchair...”

The conversation continued with small pleasantries and discussion about Stevenson’s life as a professor. Eventually, the woman arrived at her stop, and waved farewell to him as the tram pulled away. Stevenson picked up the girl’s hand and maneuvered it into a return wave, much to the delight of the woman. He could see her smile all the way until the tram turned away from the street.

A couple of stations later, the tram crawled to a halt in front of the University gates - an imposing triple-helix arch that towered above all whom entered, reminding the puny humans of their reliance of math and science to support the evolution of their knowledge.

While eyes had followed him throughout his trip, within the confines of the gates he was safe from piercing eyes - mostly. Perhaps a freshman here or there would bump into another student while gaping at the lightly-bearded man carrying a young girl across the grounds into the Engineering wing, but they would soon be given a light pat on the back by a veteran sophomore and told that they had simply just witnessed a divine act of Stevenson.

His lab - well, it was more of an entire warehouse - was full of students, united by their desire to traverse by leaps and bounds along the growth of Androidics. Most of them did not notice that their Professor was paying them an unexpected visit, their noses buried deep in the theory and application of Android-making. Different groups approached the problem in a variety of ways. Some students hypothesized that touch was the key, and their tables were covered with silicone-rubber samples with probes stuck in each chunk. A small group of girls were examining their own hair and attempting to synthesize the same translucency and sheen that made hair look like hair. The computer-geeks were perform visual analyses of faces to determine what sort of imperfections made a face feel biologically accurate.

Stevenson looked upon them proudly, his smile deep. He had fostered them, through three years of slow weaning, to be the creative geniuses working in one of the most secretive laboratories on campus - no, in the world. Forget the drug labs and protonucleic facilities that were being busted week by week on the news. Androidics was born out of Livinston University, right at the very spot they were standing, and they would carry on the lead for decades to come.

“Ahem. Students - I’d like for you to meet Aurora.”

The bustling engine chugged to a stop, as the hundred-odd engineers turned their attention towards the lass in his arms.

“She’s my daughter, and from today, she will be joining us in our ventures.”

Polite applause embraced the newcomer, but an uneasy restlessness followed. Their professor was giving them the eye - a look that meant they were to figure out the puzzle that he had just presented them with. A quiet stir began as the students began discussing what the enigma was. Stevenson only smiled, and he listened carefully to the thoughts that were morphing in front of him.

After a minute of deliberation, one particularly long-haired female student stepped up towards Aurora. “May I activate your medi-band?”

Stevenson nodded, slowly and deliberately. She reached to touch the cross, and the information she received brought a whole new sparkle to her eyes.

“I think I got it!”

“Shush, then. I suspect the rest will figure it out soon, as well.”

Description
Unfortunately, some formatting did not get transferred to DeviantArt's text input. If you find some odd phrasing, some of it may be in italics. Please pardon this.

“Sir, please let the young lady down.”

“Your ignorance lends you the benefit of doubt. Do you not see her medical band on her wrist?”

A commotion had formed at a tram stop after someone called the police on Professor Stevenson. They had seen him carry what appeared to be a very young lass aboard the public transport, and voiced their concern about the health and well-being of the girl to the operator. Unfortunately for the operator, no amount of convincing was enough to sway the caller from believe that the girl was being kidnapped - so a rookie was sent to investigate quickly, and to return even quicker.

“I do see it, sir. I need the young lady’s permission to activate it, as protocol dictates, and I was asking as a formality. Is she unable to stand unassisted?”

The girl’s head rested against Stevenson’s right shoulder, her arms tucked neatly at her waist. Her slender legs overflowed from his embrace, hanging over his left arm delicately. She made no attempt to answer the policewoman’s question, who was swiping through layers of menus on her slate.

Stevenson answered in her stead. “She is unable to do so much as lift her head to greet you. Which I’m sure,” he added sarcastically, “she’s very much trying to.”

“In that case, ma’am,” the young officer directed her attention towards the girl lying in the arms of Stevenson, “may I activate your bracelet?”

Once again, she made no indication of wanting to speak a word to the officer. She merely blinked once, deep blue eyes glazed over in faraway thought. The policewoman was failing to keep her patience in check, although most would agree that it was difficult to do so in the presence of the Professor, and was about to ask a second time when Stevenson interjected, “As her guardian, I grant you permission.”

The policewoman gingerly lifted the girl’s right arm upwards, and activated the holographic projection of her medical information by a light tap on the white band. A blue ring appeared around the band, displaying in a very vivid manner:

‘Identity-Protected Individual. Medical Contact: Dr. Redmond, referral 356’

The policewoman had very obviously heard of Redmond, for her eyes widened slightly at the sight of the name. “I presume the Dr. Redmond mentioned here is the Dr. Redmond of Livinston University?”

“That would be correct, ma’am. Would that be sufficient information for you to allow me to enter the tram, which need I remind you, is being held up by the unfortunate placement of your vehicle?” He glanced casually at the squad car, parked directly in front of the tram lane. With a sudden need to leave the premise, the policewoman bid the two a good-day and sped off down the street. Stevenson cast a final sneer towards her disappearing car. “Amateur.”

Upon boarding the restless tram, Stevenson scanned the rows for handicapped seating, but found a teenager asleep on the only one available, earpods plugged in and blasting some sort of electro-funk. As he continued his way towards the center of the bus, an elderly woman motioned him over as she slowly rose.

“Please, take my seat.”

The professor dipped his head in thanks. “Thank you greatly, ma’am.”

She smiled in return. “I noticed her medi-band – not many have the full red ring.” She was referring to a thin red line that ran along the entire length of the white band, meeting at the very top around the activation button, a silver cross.

Stevenson adjusted the girl’s posture to be sitting on his lap rather than lying in his arms. “That is quite perceptive of you - unlike a certain someone I just had the pleasure of dealing with.” The girl seemed to blink in response - but not much emotion can be conveyed through a single blink, and the woman paid her no mind.

“Oh, not really. My son has a half-band. An army boy, you know? He had an accident when he was deployed last year, and was discharged just a few months ago. He was quite proud of his red badge of courage, as he calls it,” she chuckled. “Told me that his squad-mates only had a quarter- or eighth-ring.”

“I assume he is doing well now, then? He sounds quite lively.”

“Oh, yes, he’s totally fine!” she waved her hand in emphasis. “I made it sound a little too dramatic, didn’t I?” The girl blinked a few times as if replying, yes, a little too dramatic, don’t you think? The woman noticed this, of course, and apologized, “Did I upset your daughter? I’m terribly sorry for making such a fuss -”

Stevenson shook his head quickly. “Oh, no, she is not my daughter. I’m just a legal guardian of hers - and I’m bringing her to the University where I teach to sightsee a little bit. Unfortunately, I didn’t have the foresight to purchase a wheelchair...”

The conversation continued with small pleasantries and discussion about Stevenson’s life as a professor. Eventually, the woman arrived at her stop, and waved farewell to him as the tram pulled away. Stevenson picked up the girl’s hand and maneuvered it into a return wave, much to the delight of the woman. He could see her smile all the way until the tram turned away from the street.

A couple of stations later, the tram crawled to a halt in front of the University gates - an imposing triple-helix arch that towered above all whom entered, reminding the puny humans of their reliance of math and science to support the evolution of their knowledge.

While eyes had followed him throughout his trip, within the confines of the gates he was safe from piercing eyes - mostly. Perhaps a freshman here or there would bump into another student while gaping at the lightly-bearded man carrying a young girl across the grounds into the Engineering wing, but they would soon be given a light pat on the back by a veteran sophomore and told that they had simply just witnessed a divine act of Stevenson.

His lab - well, it was more of an entire warehouse - was full of students, united by their desire to traverse by leaps and bounds along the growth of Androidics. Most of them did not notice that their Professor was paying them an unexpected visit, their noses buried deep in the theory and application of Android-making. Different groups approached the problem in a variety of ways. Some students hypothesized that touch was the key, and their tables were covered with silicone-rubber samples with probes stuck in each chunk. A small group of girls were examining their own hair and attempting to synthesize the same translucency and sheen that made hair look like hair. The computer-geeks were perform visual analyses of faces to determine what sort of imperfections made a face feel biologically accurate.

Stevenson looked upon them proudly, his smile deep. He had fostered them, through three years of slow weaning, to be the creative geniuses working in one of the most secretive laboratories on campus - no, in the world. Forget the drug labs and protonucleic facilities that were being busted week by week on the news. Androidics was born out of Livinston University, right at the very spot they were standing, and they would carry on the lead for decades to come.

“Ahem. Students - I’d like for you to meet Aurora.”

The bustling engine chugged to a stop, as the hundred-odd engineers turned their attention towards the lass in his arms.

“She’s my daughter, and from today, she will be joining us in our ventures.”

Polite applause embraced the newcomer, but an uneasy restlessness followed. Their professor was giving them the eye - a look that meant they were to figure out the puzzle that he had just presented them with. A quiet stir began as the students began discussing what the enigma was. Stevenson only smiled, and he listened carefully to the thoughts that were morphing in front of him.

After a minute of deliberation, one particularly long-haired female student stepped up towards Aurora. “May I activate your medi-band?”

Stevenson nodded, slowly and deliberately. She reached to touch the cross, and the information she received brought a whole new sparkle to her eyes.

“I think I got it!”

“Shush, then. I suspect the rest will figure it out soon, as well.”