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“Did you complete your assignment?” Lachlan asked.

“Yes,” Jason replied, handing him the folder.

Lachlan reached out for the folder. As often as he’d seen the professor’s right hand, Jason never got used to the sight. Lachlan had lost three of his fingers in an accident; his little finger, ring finger and middle finger were barely stubs, leaving just his thumb and index finger on his right hand. The injury was old. The scars were rough and lumpy. Tiny bumps marked stumps where his fingers had once been. Jason could see them twitch as the professor reached for the folder, phantom fingers stretching out where they no longer existed. He tried not to stare.

Lachlan had been Jason’s professor for the past four years. Although Lachlan was hard on him, Jason appreciated the rigor and discipline the professor brought to physics. There was nothing mean, nothing unfair. The old man’s professionalism carried a sense of regency and respect. The professor had probably never had an impure thought in his life, Jason thought.

Each year Lachlan would tell the class how he lost his fingers, only it was never the same story. Normally, he’d spin his yarn during orientation week to freak out the new students. Those who took his class for only a year never knew quite what to think, but the old timers like Jason understood. One year it was that he lost his fingers trying to stop the lift doors from closing in the biology wing. That made the girls squirm. Another year it was as the result of playing with lasers in his basement laboratory. Of course, there was no such lair for this mad scientist. He later admitted to Jason that he lived in a third floor apartment, so there wasn’t even a basement. Jason had heard rumors on campus that the professor had lost his fingers rescuing a young boy from a shark while on vacation in Miami. Mitchell swore it happened while the professor was wrestling a girl free from the jaws of a tiger in Cambodia, as he found an article on the Internet describing the incident. No one really knew, and that was clearly the way the professor liked it.

Lachlan put his glasses on and began looking at Jason’s paper.

Jason’s phone chimed with an incoming message. He looked at his pocket and then at Lachlan, who had his head down, reading the assignment. Lachlan waved his good hand, and a flutter of fingers signaled that he didn’t care if Jason checked his messages. Jason didn’t need permission, but he felt his respect for the professor required that tacit permission as a courtesy. He pulled out his phone, entered the password and looked at the message:

From Helena: Lily wants to know if you’ve heard from her father. She’s worried.

Jason typed a quick response into his phone using his two thumbs.

From Jason: At uni with prof. Nothing yet. Tell her not to worry, we’ll find him. Or, more likely, he’ll find us. I stuck more posters at surrounding intersections. c u guys soon.

Jason sat there quietly, wondering if he should leave and help Lily. He started getting nervous himself, even though he knew there was nothing to be done. He felt as though he ought to be doing something, regardless of how irrelevant it might be. It would take most of an hour for Lachlan to review his work, but the professor appeared to be skimming over the content, so Jason thought it would be best if he waited patiently.

As Lachlan finished each page he placed it face down on the table.

Jason’s heart skipped a beat.

The back of each page was covered with his trademark fidgeting scrawl, the calculations that wandered through his curious mind. At first, Lachlan didn’t notice, but then he started paying more attention to the back of each page than the printed content on the front.

Jason clenched his lips, waiting for the inevitable scolding. The funny thing was, he had no idea he’d written anything on the blank side of each page. He could have sworn he’d printed out his assignment and headed straight here. Although, thinking about it, he recalled leaving Mario’s around nine. He had gone back to his apartment to pick up the paper but hadn’t left for the university until just after eleven. He’d been doodling, lost in thought.

By now, Lachlan was completely ignoring the printed side of each page, turning the small stack of paper over and looking intently at the formulas and symbols hurriedly scribbled on the back. He nodded his head thoughtfully.

“I recognize some of the equations,” he said, waving his mutilated hand as he held the sheets of paper in his left hand, “but sections of this seem abstract. What is it you’re looking to prove in your equations?”

He held up a sheet of paper. Jason cringed as he looked at it.

“Ah, it’s just an idea,” Jason confessed, wishing he could shrink into obscurity.