One (One Universe)

rhythm of each one. Characteristics of a compound in: IR, NMR, visible spectrometry, mass spectrometry. Impurities. Stereochemical configuration. Next compound. Repeat.
    They haven’t stored paper books in here in decades, not since the Forestry Conservation Act prohibited printing them even for commercial purposes. This corner of the library still has a couple of creaking metal shelves where they once sat, providing me some kind of cover in the otherwise open study area.
    All of a sudden, I hear one of them rattle slightly, followed by muted footsteps on library carpet.
    I startle, nearly jumping out of my seat, and have to command my body to be heavy. No one comes this far back into the library.
    “Still spending your lunch break studying, I see.” A voice, soft and gravelly, comes around the corner a split second before I see him. Mr. Hoffman stands there, smiling his warm, encouraging smile.
    I close my lips against a gasp — I feel like I’m looking at a ghost. I wouldn’t have expected to see Mr. Hoffman at the grocery store, let alone looking for me at Normal High.
    After an impossibly long second, I say, “I thought… I thought you were…”
    “Gone?” he finishes.
    I nod, a grin flooding my face. Mr. Hoffman is the only teacher who ever put me through the paces in science class. I’ve needed that so badly here.
    “I left my position as a classroom teacher at Superior High, yes. But I didn’t leave Superior.” He smiles. “How are you finding the classes here at Nelson, Merrin? I suspect they’re not as challenging as you might want them to be.”
    “That’s an understatement. Science is way too simple, and history is…weird. Did you know they don’t even have real teachers?” I clear my throat, trying to control my smile. “Will you be teaching at Nelson?”
    “That’s part of the reason I’m here. A school full of teachers is expensive, to be sure, but impressive students like you, Merrin… Well, you thrive on individual attention. So, my entire job now is to work with you.”
    My eyebrows go up.
    “And other students like you, of course. Here, at Superior and across the whole area.”
    My shoulders relax down the tiniest fraction, and I sit up straighter. “Like me? You mean, Ones?”
    He nods. “Like you. Smart. Capable. Driven. Dedicated. You’ve always wanted to work at the Hub, right?” He smiles warmly. “This is your chance.”
    “The Hub?” It’s a serious effort to keep my voice at library volume. I should have known he had an awesome new job. “Oh, right!” My hands shake as I get ready to ask him. “I’m applying for the summer internship. I need your recommendation… I mean, if you can give it.”
    Mr. Hoffman pulls up a chair and sits down across from me. He waves his hand in the air. “No need, Merrin. Your name’s already in the running. Every student I’m working with is considered exceptional enough to be automatically considered.”
    Everything seems to spin a little. I don’t know exactly where to look or how to sit in my chair. Besides the fact that he looks more polished today — crisp white shirt, blazer, and shined shoes, as opposed to his SHS-standard blue Oxford short-sleeved shirt and khakis — he’s still the Mr. Hoffman I know. The same Mr. Hoffman who stayed after class to help anyone who needed him and whose eyes lit up when he talked about the freaking Periodic Table. He wouldn’t have ditched the students there for just any job.
    He picks up the corner of his tablet cover and lets it slap down, over and over, for a few seconds. “Don’t look so surprised, Merrin. Right now the internship program is only for Supers, but President Fisk wants to change these things. He sees potential in Ones. He believes in what you can do. And with that brain, Merrin… I told him. You’re at a college level of study without too much effort. Considering Ones for the summer internship is a great place to start the change.”
    “Yeah. I guess I thought… I mean, I’m smart,” I say. “But I’ll never be a Super.”
    Yes, I will.
    Mr. Hoffman shrugs. “President Fisk believes you can do anything. You’d be an asset to us, Super or not. My job right now is to put you through the next level of testing.”
    “I thought there was just the one application,” I say.
    He pushes his horn-rimmed glasses up his nose. I smile. If anyone at Superior High wanted to do an impression of Mr. Hoffman, that’s how they would start.
    “This year,