Despite his previous spontaneous encounter, the elderly red-head physicist was just in time to witness a hard-theoretical massacre by the "Nobels" of science of the young Led O'Donnell, who seemed to be very uncomfortable in spite of knowing everything they asked for.

"Care stop the banter, please?" He said, his voice a distinct echo reverberating among the thick-rimmed walls. It was a shot in the dark; if anything stopped the Nobels from expanding their realm of power, they demolished it; but still, it got them quiet. Temporarily.

"You are...Me-Mr-"

"Meddles, why yes," Meddles replied, adjusting his tie collar. "No need for any formalities. Considering that's not why we're here."

The Nobels' faces looked a little abashed at such bluntness of tone; however, that didn't stop one of them from opening their mouth.

"Accepted (Meddles thought they even talked like true journal editors). Then care to understand, that this is a VIP lounge facility and that trespassing... or intruding, of some sort, isn't allowed in its confines."

"I agree," Meddles sweetly smiled. "But isn't it also against the rules for someone to determine what exactly makes a scholar a VIP despite having the appropriate authority to do so?"

The scientist suddenly glared at the Nobel loungers with so much inner resentment and abomination that even they were taken aback, not to mention Led. The young man had never supposed that the elderly outgoing scientist could hold so much burning hatred in his soul. It seemed to have stung the innards of everyone it was directed at, and intimidated the Nobels no less than they had previously intimidated Led himself. It was viz. a secret side of professor Bill Meddles, turning out to be intensely surprisingly dark.

Birds of pride and gratitude fought to break free in his ribcage. Cheesy, he knew, but he wasn't a good humanitarian anyway.

"Very well, do your bidding. But you definitely would agree with me about the basics of what being a VIP truly is - first, being mentally sane."

"Led, let's go," Meddles tensely whispered, quickly catching the youngster's wrist and making way out of the VIP lounge. Led, however, stopped in his tracks:

"But I don't want to go out, why not wipe their smirks off their faces-"

"Stop acting like a young child," Meddles scolded, leading them out of the doors. Led followed, hesitating, "They have the government behind them-"

"As if the government ever cared bout us more than ever, we're still gonna be outliers in every single event we attend-"

"That's it, Led! Stop, now!" Meddles raised his voice, and Led could feel he was getting angry. He had defended him, after all.

So Led shut up, reluctantly.

"I am going to lead you to the library, where it's at least quieter to study," Meddles stated. Led almost opened his mouth, but the categorical reasoning in Meddles' voice managed to silence him. "We won't have the loudness of their obnoxious thoughts all around us, and we won't constantly wish to say that we hate them," he reasoned, quietly. "More so, we won't have to tell them-"

"-Going somewhere?"

The men both turned around. A woman had called them.

Led gaped: it was, of course, Arlene.

"With respect how did you manage to sneak up on us - Don't do that." Led asked her and instantly cut off, embarrassing himself. He was so stupid for supposing they'd noticed anything so deep in conflict.

"Of course," Arlene smiled, her gaze never centering on him. Her mostly straight windswept hairstyle elegantly fell in curls on her shoulders. "Now - what is the problem?"

Led hesitated but Meddles told her.

"Oh! That simple? Do stay for me, please. I won't keep you waiting."

"I hope she'll be back shortly," Meddles said.

And indeed, she was, a crimson mirage in her velvet dress too chic but pretty for the occasion and indeed, it was again to Led's mild astonishment that once she led them to the VIP lounge once more, the multiple sounds of heavy footsteps graced his ears.

The Nobels were "tip-toeing" out of the lounge room.

Like all 50 of them.

"The place is yours to take," the woman sweetly smiled, gesturing towards the now desolate establishment. "I guess I'll leave you to it, then."

"How did you send them out?" Led questioned dully.

Arlene paused. Then she finally, finally turned to catch his eye amidst the stout sunk pompous scholars.

"I said the sub will drown if they don't leave," she replied seriously, but a joyous glint appeared in her eyes. "The "insane" boy will mess something up in his theory, and he won't stop until he brings the whole world down."

Then she left. Bringing her blue eyes away from him.

He thought they were some kind of azure, not entirely indigo, but even somewhat indicolite.

But he did know nothing about colours...

"Led! Are you with me?"

"Yes, Mr. Meddles, what were you talking about?" Led reverted to reality.

He realized that they were walking inside the farthest corner of the VIP-lounge. More so, sitting on a sofa.

How much more absent-minded had he really become?

"Well, Led, I was saying that we need to telegraph the theor. proof to the APS, if Miss Chaisson allows it. They need quick consideration, so I'd figure it'd be okay-"

"Why are you so dependent on Miss Chaisson?" Led asked him. Meddles stopped before answering:

"Well, she's our PA manager, boss and-"

"We're in a critical situation so we don't need her approval," Led cut off. He felt still sour because of her earlier and recent actions towards him.

But Meddles just didn't want to understand that.

"Look, Led, I know you're mad at her but she doesn't deserve the hate."

And just before Led got ready to object, Meddles questioned:

"You're smart, right?"

Led remained silent.

"So, Led, if you are," he said gravely, leaning in, "do you really appraise to think that she has done all those things out of her own account?"

"But who?"

"The Golden Uni-"

"Please, attention to all current passengers of the submarine! Attention for all passengers of the submarine! In three hours we will be on the surface of the Atlantic Ocean. In four hours we will finish preparations of the scuba gear. In five hours 4 of our passengers will scuba dive in the farthest Atlantic depths, test the theory that brought us here, and find, if the world can be saved or not. Their names are Mills, Jonathan; Smith, Will; Winner, Arlene and O'Donnell, Led.

But one more important thing: in two hours we will be unable to retain any type of connection with the shore because we will go lower than any craft has ever gone before. So, prepare. Prepare for your ultimate trial."

The radio clicked off.