Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 127712 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 639(@200wpm)___ 511(@250wpm)___ 426(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 127712 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 639(@200wpm)___ 511(@250wpm)___ 426(@300wpm)
There are about a dozen people on the ground floor level with me right now. But as my gaze travels up, and I peer into the glass-walled rooms that I can see from this vantage point, I count maybe three dozen more.
Seven stories. There are three hundred and one academics here. Even if you add in a few hundred perms, as Olsen calls them, it’s not enough to justify such a building with so many tomes. The perms would not need the library.
As a precursor for the Bobst library at NYU, it’s impressive. And, while not quite identical, it has many of the features of its successor. The wide atrium—though certainly not a hundred feet across, like Bobst—outlines the central courtyard where I’m standing now. The marble tiled floor is black and white checkerboard and Bobst has a three-dimensional design of nearly the same pattern. The glass-walled rooms, the illuminated ceiling, and the walkways that surround each floor are all very similar to the library in Manhattan where I spent so much time as an undergrad.
It even has the perforated aluminum screens that encase the entire perimeter of the atrium, from the checkered floor right up to the illuminated ceiling. When you look at this screen from the ground floor the way I am, it appears to be a cascade of digital code.
This is interesting for two reasons.
One. This screen at Bobst was added long after the original construction.
And two. It wasn’t done by the same designer.
So if this building came first, why—
“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to interrupt but I wanted to come over and say hi.”
I turn in the direction of the voice and find a petite girl who looks far, far too young to be one of the academics here. She is maybe nineteen. But she is very cute. Dark hair, heart-shaped face, dark brown eyes, and skin that is neither fair nor brown. I bet she tans gold in the summer. She is wearing a cream-colored cropped jacket with matching wide-legged trousers, which normally don’t look good on short women, but she pulls it off spectacularly. She is wearing a gold collar around her neck and heavy gold earrings. And when I say gold, I think they really are gold. The set has got to be worth about ten thousand dollars in this market.
On first look, she doesn’t appear to be wearing makeup. But then I realize it’s just perfectly applied to give off that impression.
In fact, the longer I look at her, the less cute she becomes.
It’s the wrong word.
She is small, and young, but also… gorgeous. And overflowing with poise.
“Hi,” I say automatically. Then I extend my hand. “I’m Ryan. I’m new here.”
She smiles at me. And for a moment, her lips purse together. It takes her a good five seconds to actually say something. “I’m Eliana.”
We shake hands. Her grip is very feminine so I adjust mine to be the same. “Eliana? That’s your last name?”
“No.” She chuckles. “No. Last name Torres, first name Eliana.”
“Nice to meet you, Torres.” Wait. Does she wince when I use her surname? “Am I not supposed to call you Torres? I thought—”
“No, no,” she hurriedly says. “Yes, of course. I’m Torres. Sorry, I didn’t mean to confuse you.”
“Well, my first name is—”
But before I can get it out, her phone buzzes. She produces it from a designer bag slung over her shoulder, peeks at the screen, then smiles at me again. “I have to go. I just wanted to say hi. If you’re looking for something interesting in here, I’d try the top floor. It’s got a view to die for.”
Then she turns away and walks off.
I watch her, almost unable to take my eyes off her. I thought Stalls was pretty with her long limbs and graceful movements. But no, this tiny creature blows her away in every respect. And something about her gives off an air of… control.
Impressive. Especially for someone so young.
I perk up after this meeting and actually get a little excited about meeting people. I have attended three excellent academic institutions and have met many fine people. Interesting people. Rich and powerful people. So maybe I took this type of person for granted.
But Eliana Torres has put me back in my place.
The Institute is where one goes to be groomed for power.
I am being groomed for power and the people I meet here will be my peers for the rest of my life, regardless of what happens after my first year.
I look up at the illuminated ceiling of the library. Allow myself to imagine what the view must look like up there to leave such an impression on Eliana. Allow myself to long for it.
Then I cast that longing aside.
My task today is to meet my new peers.
So that’s what I do.
I walk over to the nearest group, push down the instinct to be aloof and reserved, then offer my hand and introduce myself.