A thump-thump noise interrupts your conversation. Dr. Lewis has taken the stage and is hitting the lectern's microphone. Conversations die down. "Good evening, my esteemed colleagues, and welcome to our—" He looks at his notes. "No, I'm not calling it that," he mutters. "Welcome to our annual holiday party."
Darcy taps on your leg. "Here, hold this," she whispers, and passes you a smooth rock. It's shaped like an arrowhead and has a fine pattern etched into it. Canary yellow rises from it.
"It's a force manipulation pattern," Alex says. "Harmless. If you'd like, I can defang it, though you will need to give me control of your body for a moment to do so."
Sure, giving an alien intelligence free run of your body to stop a harmless pattern sounds like a great trade-off. I'm good.
"Do feel free to continue eating while I speak," Dr. Lewis says. Judging from the clinking of silverware around you, Dr. Lewis didn't have to suggest that. "We have completed yet another successful fall semester. And since our numbers can't speak for themselves, I shall."
Oh, No