Ron was waiting, gun poised, behind the empty slab. A shadow covered the dim light behind the glass-plated door, and the Ron-body entered the silent room. He saw his own hand reaching out to flick on the light switch. He saw his own face register dismay and annoyance at the quiet scene.
Then the Ron-body turned and was about to leave.
"Stay awhile," Ron said.
He stood up, revealing the weapon, holding it in both of his small hands for firm control of the trigger.
"Well," his voice said.
"Yes, well," Ron answered. "Very well, thanks. Only I won't speak for you, Scholar. Because I don't think you're well at all. I think you're out of your mind...."
The Ron-lips curled.
"Naturally. Genius is akin to madness. It's one of the deep-rooted convictions of the human ego. It reflects their suspicion, their distrust of the superintelligent............