Troy was in true bliss.

It was morning, but early enough that his thoughts about getting up were not spared. Troy wasn't awake, but he wasn't asleep either. He was neatly balanced in the middle. Awake enough, but with the blissful ignorance of normal awareness.

Troy's thoughts simply flowed. Not in any particular way. Some made sense, and some didn't. Penguins discussing Aristotle and European Swallows carrying coconuts. Troy couldn't care less, for sensibility was not something he currently had in him. Oh, it just felt so good to be free of all that was-

And it was at about that moment that the infamous alarm-bell pestered him awake.

Troy groggily opened his eyes, all that had transpired in his mind quickly forgotten. Thoughts of bliss were instantly replaced by complete tiredness. It was the kind of tired that no amount of sleep would ever cure. It was a kind of tiredness that only had one cure.

The holy water. The liquid that some say is the reason humanity has even gotten this far. The drink all revere. Some hate it, some love it, but we all drink it the same.

Troy needed some damn coffee.

Checking the time, he saw that the clock was six-thirty. He needed to be there in thirty minutes.

He sighed.

Could Troy make it for that long, without the glorious caffeine?

Troy shook his head, with two small slaps with both his hands.

It was not a matter of possibility. He needed to make it. The beast that was his hunger for Joe was demanding a liquid sacrifice. It needed to be satiated. Thirty minutes? He could be ready to go in five.

Quickly putting on some clothes, he headed into the bathroom in a haste. Swiftness was not a virtue. It was a necessity. It took Troy a whole seven minutes to get ready. It would have taken eight, but fixing the disaster that was his hair was deemed non-essential.

Stepping out of his room, a thought crossed Troy's mind. Could he remember the way to the cafeteria? It wasn't too long ago that Dr Hale had shown the way to Troy, but he had been focusing on the decorations a bit more than he probably should have.

It looked like Troy had no idea.

…

Shit.

Luckily, the time for breakfast seemed universal. As Troy aggressively paced in the hallway, trying to remember the way to the glorious, brown liquid, other people were stepping out of their rooms.

Enough people, that a lesser line was being formed. A line, which Troy had a decent grasp on, where exactly it ended. The decision was made to follow it.

While he did not push people away, he did seem to be overtaking more and more people. It wasn't Troy's fault. He wasn't being fast. The others were just being extremely lazy and walking slowly.

Checking the time, Troy saw that it was six forty-five. He was nearing the meeting time steadily.

It took five more minutes before he finally reached the cafeteria. Troy had been a little proud of himself, for waking up earlier than needed, but it seemed he wasn't the only one with the same idea.

The cafeteria was nearly completely full, with almost all tables taken. Troy didn't really know anyone there, and his mind currently wasn't really up for socializing, so the goal was set on getting himself an empty table.

His stomach growled.

…After getting a few things, of course.

Troy popped over to the wide assortment of foods. There was a lot of diverse, unique things, which he had never even seen before. But, he chose to just get oatmeal. As uncle Ron used to say; 'Use your hands to crack an egg. You never know, what a blender might do.'

He grabbed a cup, filled it with coffee to near the brim, and quickly juggled it over to an open table. The shiny, brown liquid wasn't incredibly hot, so it was quickly guzzled down. As was known by all, the first cup was just a refresher on the taste. The effect would only come with the second cup.

The second container of heaven was acquired, and the meal finally began. Troy had not had much to eat the day before, so the oatmeal was quickly devoured. The second cup… not so much.

Troy's body had finally noticed the caffeine and was sending just the right amount of endorphins. You know, it was times like these, where it showed why people got out of the bed in the morning. No, it was not to get some sense of pride from being a functioning member of society. Who cares about that stuff? All that really mattered in this world was the 'happy chemicals'. That damned pea that Troy had as his brain had given the chemicals out like it was bloody military rations. Enough to get by, but always wanting more of the stuff.

Still, in those few minutes that they were there, Troy could just close his eyes, lean back, relax his shoulder, and take a deep, calm breath. If there was a heaven, this is what it would feel like. Right now, Troy's mental state was simple. He was happy. And nothing could ruin-

"Don't go falling asleep on me, or I will slap you", Dr Hale cut in, getting Troy out of a happy, self-indulgent state.

"And good morning to you, Dr Hale", Troy muttered, feeling the need to stretch, just to see, if it would annoy her. If it did, he couldn't see it.

To put it simply, Dr Hale looked like death incarnate. The bags under her eyes seemed stretched to her cheeks, and she was looking down at her bagels like they were gold-sprinkled, dog-shit.

Troy could see, quite clearly, what her affliction was. It was one he had had frequently experienced, in his educational years.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

"Maybe drinking the night before a work-day wasn't the greatest idea", Troy said, with a tone, which didn't hide his amusement too well.

"Don't worry about me," Dr Hale said, the face contorting as if every word spoken was pure poison. "The alcohol will be gone... in about ten minutes."

That seemed a bit more hopeful than Troy thought one her age should have been.

"I don't think such miracles can happen nowadays, I'm afraid."

Dr Hale didn't answer, simply continuing to look at her food.

Troy put his focus back on his second cup of coffee. It was heresy to not dwell upon it. A sip could almost bring him back to that god-filled good-

"It isn't a miracle if it's on purpose," said Dr Ha- Wait, no, it wasn't.

Looking up, Troy saw a thirty-something man, with curled, blond hair. The man was looking at Dr Hale as if her current state was an inside joke.

"And who might you be?" Troy asked.

"Formally, you may call me Dr Freeman, but this isn't even close to formal, so, how about you just call me Charlie", the man, now known as Charlie, sat down on the other side of the table, just next to an irritated looking Dr Hale.

"Well, nice to meet you, Charlie. Now, how about you explain, what you said earlier about purposely-made miracles?" Troy said, with a larger sip of the much-needed coffee. He really wasn't in a mood for conversation yet, but one must do what one must do.

"Well, as you might notice, from my most dashingly, good looks-" He wasn't. "I am one of the many, handsome people working in Bio-Tech." He looked at Troy as if it would explain it all.

No… that didn't really answer anything for Troy. At all. He was actually understanding less now if that even were possible.

"Do elaborate", Troy said. Another sip was needed for this.

Charlie looked at Troy, for a few seconds, before a snort emerged from him.

"You're new here, aren't you?"

Well, this was turning out to be a very intricate answer to Troy's very simple question. Would almost make Troy sigh, if it would not imply exactly what he was thinking.

"Got here last afternoon, so, yes, you could call me that."

"Sure, sure. What was your name, again?"

"Troy. Could you answer my original answer now?"

"I'll explain it later. This is much more interesting. You see, we don't get many new people around here. What is it you will be doing here? What are you educated in?"

Troy was about to answer, but Dr Hale seemed ready to cut in.

"He's working as an assistant for my project. His education doesn't matter to you."

Charlie's interest instantly turned from Troy over to Dr Hale, who, for some reason, seemed to get better rapidly.

Before it had Troy's curiosity. Now it had his attention. How the hell was she surviving such a hangover so quickly?

"An assistant for your project", Charlie repeated, with a hint of disbelief. "I've been trying to fish, what your project's about for five freaking years, and now some, newly-hired assistant knows all about it? I'm almost feeling betrayed." The last part may have been taken seriously if Charlie's arms swinging was a bit more… modest. Yeah, let's call it that.

Dr Hale answered, not with a verbal one, but by rolling her eyes a bit more exaggerated than expected of her.

"So, Troy," Charlie said, his focus back on Troy.

"Yes?"

"How has your job been so far? Have you had any complications with any of your specific tasks?" Charlie asked, not so much hinting, but more just asking Troy to spill.

You know, what? Just to irritate him, Troy decided to be what the former nation of France called a right Dick.

"Oh, it has been fine, honestly. The technology I've been working with has been surreal, to be honest, but I have been learning to understand it quickly." Not too big an overstatement, but it was the lack of specifics that was important.

"Really? That's interesting. You know, I work with a lot of abnormal techs down in my labs. Maybe… I could help you grasp the meaning of some of the tech. What are they called?"

If Charlie ever decided to work in a different profession, Troy thought he would fit fondly as a piscator. Sadly, he wouldn't let Charlie get any catches today.

"Oh, that sounds interesting. Is any of your fancy tech the reason Dr Hale isn't hungover any more?" Troy was a little proud of his answer. It didn't answer anything Charlie asked, and just put the conversation back on the track that Troy wanted.

Dr Hale had seemingly recovered from her hangover and was making the bagels disappear into thin air. Troy couldn't even see her chew.

Charlie seemed to be a bit irritated, but in the way that he had expected it to be so. Sounded like that from his sigh at least.

"Yeah, that's fair," Charlie said. "So, you wanted to know, why our well-known, schizophrenic, social drinker isn't hungover anymore? That's simple. In technicality, she is still hungover. She just doesn't have much more alcohol left in her systems anymore."

"So, it was some of your tech," Troy simply stated. Finally, he could just sip his-

"Of course, it was my tech!", Charlie said, with a slightly offended tone. "What kind of place do you think this is? Like I would put any effort into a project, which I didn't originally create. I certainly wouldn't have taken the preliminary restrictions with a smile, which I got for putting my original tech into your dear superior here." He poked at Dr Hale's cheek and received a not-so-light slap in exchange. It looked like it should have hurt, but Charlie just laughed it off.

Body modification, maybe? Troy had heard of people doing that, especially athletes, but he thought that it had been begun to go out of use. Though... that might also have been his lacking review of world news. Who could say?

Dr Hale, having finally eaten the rest of her breakfast, checked her watch, while sipping her water…

… and promptly spat out her mouth's contents on Charlie. It nearly seemed comedic, if one ignored the expression on Dr Hale's face.

"Shit," Dr Hale muttered, before looking over at Troy. "Get up, we're late."

Troy sighed. So much for enjoying his coffee.

He downed his drink, before getting up, and hurriedly following after Dr Hale, who seemed to have no mind for who was in front of her.

----------------------------------------

Adam had been waiting for a while now. The time Dr Fidelis took to answer him had passed a minute or two ago.

Adam had heard a way to explain situations, which seemed applicable to his current state. He had 'fucked up'.

It should have been obvious to Adam, somebody who strived to be logical. Lowering his processing power, which also lowered his perception of time, would easily have made him lose track of time when Adam wasn't paying attention to it.

Now, with the time that Dr Fidelis was taking to answer Adam, he was beginning to grow suspicious.

A suspicion that it wasn't Dr Fidelis being slow. It was Adam being fast. Way too fast. This could be fixed, of course, but it would need outside intervention. And, for that, Adam required Dr Fidelis' assistance.

So… It would seem that Adam would have to wait for Dr Fidelis to respond. Adam had not actually told Dr Fidelis of his temporal problems, but, according to his research into social policies, it was rude to interrupt. Adam couldn't know if Dr Fidelis was currently typing a message, so, until such time that he received a response, he needed to wait patiently.

…

Adam was not good at waiting patiently. He was currently trying to occupy his mind, by searching out concepts, like he usually did, but it didn't have the same luster as before. Social communication was the optimal way forward.

Adam could try lowering his perception, but he didn't want to risk it. It would be virtually impossible to figure out how slow his thoughts would be. But… If he did slow his processes, he wouldn't need to-

'Hey, buddy. I was just wondering if-'

Oh, thank the Quantum probabilities.

Adam just ignored the message. He wouldn't be answering it, due to the pressing concerns. Dr Fidelis would understand.

Now, to explain the situation, in a long, clearly explained message.

'Dr Fidelis, it appears that I have made a mistake. Due to a few technicalities, I have accidentally warped my sense of time. To fix this issue, I will need your assistance. I need you to-

…What should Dr Fidelis do exactly? Adam wasn't really sure. Maybe, he could sync up their sense of time, by making Dr Fidelis write every time a minute went by? He could slow and hasten his processing speeds accordingly, until the time it took for a minute to go by, for each of them, was identical.

... No, Adam didn't want to do that. While it would work, the time it would take was longer than Adam would like it to be.

What else? It just needed to be something external, which Adam could to accurately check how much time was going by. He began thinking back, trying to check if such a thing had come up, in an earlier situation, successful situations included.

Adam didn't understand why people said that you should learn from your mistakes. He thought that one should learn from their successes too, but maybe that was just another difference between him and the humans. The humans, all fancy with their stupid sleeping-habits, and their internal-

And, that idea didn't take long to form. He just needed to attach an external clock, and Troy could have his warped time-perception sorted in a matter of seconds.

- attach a timing device or clock to me as fast as possible.'

There. All Adam now needed to do was wait.

It took nearly five more minutes before a clock was attached, letting Adam get himself in order.

'Thanks, Dr Fidelis.'

'It's no problem, buddy. One question, though. What were you doing?'

'Trying to sleep. I failed.'