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“But you have a theory.” My fingers itched to touch him and slip inside his head, but I couldn’t risk it. If Magnarella found out what I could do, I’d be ejected from the event, and Dusty would suffer the consequences. I kept my hands to myself and grasped for straws instead.
“I have a theory that I’ll be completing a mission, like rescuing someone from a maze,” I blathered. “I assume there’s a minotaur in the maze and that’s why godly powers are needed. I should pack a spool of thread, too, or maybe a pocket of breadcrumbs.”
Albert stared at me. “You seem to have given this a lot of thought.”
“Can you blame me? A power-of-the-gods elixir seems like a big deal.”
“It is. That’s why I signed an NDA. I’m not allowed to discuss my job outside these four walls. It puts a damper on my dating life, let me tell you. Women think my vague responses are code for unemployed.”
“Your boss sure does love his contracts.”
“His team of lawyers do, too.” Albert walked toward me with patches. “Next, I’m going to attach these to your skin and then have you walk on the treadmill. I’ll set the pace.”
“What about the blood draw? Isn’t that a requirement?”
He contemplated me. “Your stats look good so far, and I’m given a certain amount of leeway. I can get around it.”
“Are you sure? I don’t want to end up chained to a rock with an eagle eating my liver.”
Albert’s mouth twitched. “Prometheus wasn’t a god; he was a Titan.”
“No Titans on the elixir menu?”
“Not that I know of.”
I waited until he finished attaching the patches and stepped onto the equipment. He started me on even ground at a slow, steady pace. Gradually, he increased both the level and the speed. I made a few noises of complaint along the way and pretended to struggle at a fifteen-percent incline.
“Huh,” Albert said, staring at the dashboard.
“Huh, what?”
“I think the treadmill might be glitching. Based on my observations, your heart rate should be higher.”
I could fool him, but I couldn’t fool the machine, apparently. I tried to keep him focused on the equipment. “How old is the treadmill?”
“Not too old. State of the art, too, like everything Mr. Magnarella owns.” He switched it off. “I feel confident you’re in decent shape.”
I feigned ignorance. “Does the machine think I’m not up to par?”
“Oh, the opposite. It thinks you have the heart and lungs of Superman.”
“Did I fail to mention I was born on Krypton?”
Albert smiled. “If you were, I’d propose marriage right here and now. Superman is my idol.”
“If the machine thinks I’m superhuman, will that present one of those inaccurate data problems?”
Albert shook his head. “Technically, all supernaturals are superhuman anyway. This part is more for identifying appropriate matches.”
“Are you sure about that? Because I wouldn’t have pegged Dusty as Zeus appropriate.”
“I can’t answer that. All I know is that height, weight, and blood pressure need to be correct, or the elixir could kill you. And we don’t want that.”
No, we certainly didn’t. “Will you tell me before I leave if I pass?”
Albert removed the patches from my skin. “You passed.”
“Yay me.”
