The Select

bad moment I thought you'd told her about my...other weirdness.'

'Oh, God, I'd never do that!' Matt said.

Quinn knew when she was being put on. She stared at Matt with feigned shock.

'Sure you did. You said he's got a shoe fetish and his philosophy of life is somewhere to the left of 'Whoopee!''

Matt laughed but Tim was on his feet, wagging his index finger at her.

'I know that line! I know it! It's from...A Thousand Clowns. Murray Burns discussing his sister. Right?'

'Incredible,' Quinn said. Matt hadn't exaggerated. Tim Brown's memory was phenomenal.

'But how do you know that line?' Tim said.

'For a long time it was my favorite movie.'

'Yeah, well, Jason Robards was great, but—'

'It just was.'

Quinn didn't want to get into how as a teenager she'd fantasized about taking the place of Murray Burns' nephew—she'd have been Murray's niece—and being raised by such a lovable non-conformist. Her parents were such staid, stick-in-the-mud, normal people. For years she'd longed for a little kookiness in her home.

She glanced at her watch. It was 10:50. 'I'd better be getting back.'

'Right,' Tim said. 'I've heard you turn into a pumpkin if you're late.'

'Really? Was that in the Time article too?'

'A curfew!' Matt said, sitting up on his bed. 'Can you believe it? I haven't been here a full day yet and already this place is getting on my nerves. And have you seen all the video cameras around the campus?'

Tim pressed a finger to his lips. 'Careful, my friend. The walls may have ears.'

MONITORING

'You bet they have ears, wise ass,' Louis Verran muttered as he switched to another set of pick-ups.

'Mattress sensors positive all over the place, boss,' Kurt said from his console.

'All right,' Verran said. 'It's almost eleven. Nighty-night time. Let's get some slow waves going.'

He flipped the power switch and gave the rheostat a clockwise turn on the slow-wave inducer. Getting them to sleep before midnight was always the trickiest part of entrance exam week. Most of these kids were uptight about the test tomorrow and wired on their own adrenalin. That was why all the coffee in the caf had been decaf— even the pots marked regular. Without a little help, too many would spend the night chewing their fingernails and tossing and turning on the unfamiliar mattresses. Big no-no. They had to sleep. All of them. For at least five full hours.

So each suite was hard-wired with—among other things—slow-wave/spindle inducers. A huge expense, considering that they were used only one week out of fifty-two. The inducer created an electromagnetic field in the rooms that connected with human brain waves, inducing sleep spindles on the EEG, and making the pattern most comfortable in the slow-wave form—the sleep pattern. Worked great on the kids if they were lying in bed; thirty to sixty seconds and they were in dreamland. Took a little longer if they were sitting up, but eventually they'd give in to this sudden, overwhelming urge to lie down...just for a few minutes...just to rest their eyes.

'Good evening, gentlemen,' said a voice behind Verran. 'It's lights-out time for the students, I believe.'

Verran suppressed a growl of annoyance as he turned to face Dr. Alston. The ghoul was always meddling. Seemed to think being Director gave him the right to stick his nose into everyone's business. Didn't know the first thing about running security but he always had two cents' worth of nothing to contribute.

'Dr. Alston,' Verran said, forcing a smile. 'Back again for another evening of fun and games, I see.'

'Hardly, Louis,' Alston said grimly as he sniffed the air. His gaze came to rest on Verran's smoldering cigar.

'Louis...is that another cigar?'

Louis held it up before him, appearing to scrutinize it. 'Good lord, Doc, I believe you're right!'

Elliot leaned on his console and coughed to hide a laugh.

'Really, Louis, how many times must I remind you of the rules against smoking on this campus?'

'And how many times must I remind you, Doc, that this is the one place on campus where that rule doesn't apply?'

And how many times, you tightass, are we going to butt heads on this? Verran thought.

'We'll settle this some other time,' Dr. Alston said. 'Right now, how are we doing?'

Verran clamped the cigar between his teeth and leaned left so he could see Kurt behind Alston.

'What's the status on the Z Patrol?'

'Getting there,' Kurt said. 'Twenty percent down already.'

Verran glanced at the timer. The slow-wave inducers had been running just shy of fifteen minutes.

'Right on schedule.'

Dr. Alston pulled up a chair and sat down on the far side of the control room, fanning the air with a manila folder every time some of Verran's cigar smoke drifted his way.

Half an hour later Kurt slapped his palm on the top of his console.

'There goes the last of them. They're all down.'

Verran nodded his approval. Amazing how well those inducers worked. No one could hold out against them for long—unless they were on anticonvulsant medication. And The Ingraham's pre-invitation screening process culled out any such kids long before the first invitation was sent.

'Excellent!' Dr. Alston said, rising and moving to the center of the control room. 'Let the music begin!'

'Gimme a break,' Verran muttered as he nodded to Elliot.

Elliot began to work the switches on his own console, and soon 'the music,' as Dr. Alston called it, began to filter through the occupied dorm rooms.

CHAPTER FOUR

'How can you guys eat?' Quinn said.

Tim looked up from his blueberry pancakes. They were, quite literally, melting in his mouth.

'Are you kidding? These things are fabulous. I'm going back for seconds.'

Matt was already back on line, rejoining the bustle around the buffet area. The morning sun shone brightly through the tall windows, but Tim's shades filtered the glare. All around them The Ingraham hopefuls clustered at scattered tables, creating pockets of nervous chatter or pools of silence. Tim watched Quinn grimace as she picked at her shredded wheat.

He said, 'Why don't you try something a little more substantial? The scrambled eggs look good.'

She pressed a hand over her stomach. 'Please. They're not even real eggs.'

'Sure they are. They're egg whites—real eggs with the yolks removed. Looks like anybody who goes here will be on low cholesterol, like it or not.'

'I'm all for that,' Quinn said.

Tim swallowed another bite. 'No smoking, low cholesterol food...looks like they wasnt us to live forever.'

'Makes sense, doesn't it? They're investing a lot in their students.'

Tim studied Quinn out of the corner of his eye. She looked good this morning, dressed in a Navy blue sweater that deepened the tint of her eyes, and white slacks that hugged the curves of her buttocks. Tim decided he liked those buttocks. Her short, strawberry-blond hair looked just right; she wore a hint of eye make up, just enough to