Saving Professor (Part 11)

Collier sat in the passenger seat of Professor’s truck.
Professor had already gone out of the truck and was heading towards a short, grey-brown building. Whoever had built the building hadn’t even bothered putting in a real parking lot.
Collier decided that he wasn’t doing any good by just waiting, so he opened the door and stepped out.
Quickly, he ran up to Professor. Neither of them spoke.
Professor knocked on the door.
A shadow came over the peephole. Collier felt uncomfortable.
“Who is it?” a man’s voice asked.
“Professor Stein.”
Then door opened.
There, standing in the doorway, was a man of average height and average appearance.
He smiled grimly and stuck out his hand to Collier.
“Hello. I am Mr. Asher Alexander. And you must be Collier?”
Collier nodded.
Asher Alexander was disappointing. Collier thought that he would at least be big and strong, or something that would make him look like a villain.
But he wasn’t.
Then Asher Alexander turned to Professor, who he had been ignoring up until that point.
“So, Professor Stein,” Asher Alexander started off saying. “You’ve changed.” Then he broke into a laugh and slapped his knee. “No, what am I talking about? You look the same!”
Then, noticing that Professor Stein was not amused, Asher Alexander straightened up and cleared his throat.
“Well, come in, then,” he invited, motioning behind him.
Collier and Professor followed Alexander into the building. There was nothing in the room—not even a single piece of furniture. All it had was a hole in the floor, which Alexander began going down.
Collier looked at Professor, who shrugged and followed Alexander down the ladder.
Collier felt like he was a fireman, climbing the ladder rung by rung.
Reaching his fate rung by rung.
Even so, he persisted and went on down.
When they reached the bottom, they found themselves in a room with a couch and a single lamp that cast forth a yellow-tinted light. There was a door on one side of the wall.
“Now, Professor Stein,” Asher Alexander said. “As you know, you are here to drop off Collier. I am sure he will do fine. This next room is for his and my eyes only. So I will now ask you to leave.”
A cloud came over Professor’s face. Collier waited for him to say something.
But instead, without a word, Professor turned and left. Right when his feet disappeared up the ladder, Collier wanted to call him back and make him bring him home.
But he knew that he had to do what he was about to do.
When he turned back around, Asher Alexander had already opened the door and was standing in the doorway.
“Are you ready to come in, Collier?” he asked.
Collier swallowed, hoping that he was ready.
He nodded.
Then he entered the doorway into the secret room.

The room was filled with many computers. Most were already together, and some had been either broken apart or had not yet been assembled.
Blueprints of water towers covered a coffee table. In the middle of the room were two empty chairs—one with blue velvet cushions, and the other a dull metal.
Asher Alexander strode forward and sat in the blue velvet chair. He motioned Collier to the other chair.
As soon as Collier sat down, he noted how cold the chair was.
Asher Alexander was already talking.
“Now this is called the Secret Room. Why? Because things said here are secrets. Secrets, secrets, secrets.” He paused for emphasis. There wasn’t any. He continued. “So what I tell you, you can’t tell anyone. Okay?”
Collier nodded.
“Can you talk?”
“Yes,” Collier quickly answered.
“Good. Now that I know you can talk,” he said, pausing to laugh at his own joke, “I will tell you what you should call me. First, though, do you know my full name?”
“Yes. I mean, I think I do. It’s Asher Alexander, isn’t it?”
“Very good. Do you know my middle name?”
Collier looked down at the navy blue carpet.
“No, I don’t,” he answered.
Suddenly, Asher Alexander clapped his hands and stood up.
“That is because I don’t have a middle name!” He began to strut around the room. “So what shall you call me?” He leaned in on Collier, as if he was already telling him a secret. “Call me Alexander.” He jerked back up to his full height and resumed his strutting. Collier was already getting quite annoyed at this habit. “Why call me Alexander? Because ‘Asher’ is simply too disrespectful. And ‘Mr. Alexander’ is too respectful for me. ‘Alexander’ is perfect.”
Then Alexander bowed, as if he had finished making a speech.
“Today will be the day that I will introduce you to my room,” Alexander started again. “This is where I keep my blueprints, there are my spare computer parts, this is my collection of 1958 glass chess pieces—“
Collier sighed.
What had he gotten himself into?