I found the professor in a hospital bed. His boy sat next to him, teary eyed, clinging to his pale fingers. The professor was consoling the boy until he saw me. He cast a knowing look in my direction and sent the boy off to fetch some water.

I found his scrutiny delightful. My disguise was impeccable, but even in his deteriorated state, the man remained astute. He offered a promising harvest.

"There's hunger in your eyes," he said. "You're a collector, aren't you?"

I nodded.

"You'd best make this quick. My son will be back soon."

"I'll manage," I said.

I injected the nanomites through his IV. As the tiny machines worked, he never broke eye contact. I watched the glimmer in his eyes slowly fade away. By that point, the data had already started streaming back to me. The rush of knowledge was exquisite. I reveled in it.

"Who are you?"

I recognized the voice. The boy had returned.

"A friend of your father," I said. "I came to see him off."

The boy looked at me with his father's piercing scrutiny. I gestured towards the body to avert his gaze.

"But it seems I'm too late," I said.

The boy saw the professor's lifeless stare. At once, he was crying again.

"No," he said, racing to the body. "No--he was just--I was only gone for a second."

I moved to leave, but something tugged at me. Something inside. The boy now wailed into his father's body, but I was compelled to stay.

"I never got to apologize," he said. "I was a disappointment--I never got to--I didn't mean to--"

"He was proud of you," I said involuntarily. "He thought you were a fine son."

The boy wiped snot on his hand. "He did?"

"I know it for a fact," I said.

He resumed wailing into his father's chest. The tugging within me ceased.

The sensation felt curiously familiar. I wondered if the nanomites digitized some emotion by mistake. Then again, every brain is uniquely complex. Feelings were bound to slip through. Leaving the room, I noted to omit them from the data.

Erik Goranson

The Professor's Boy