“Now, when you say ‘absolutely no way,’ does that mean absolutely one hundred percent or just 99.9 percent?”
“This is crazy,” Riley said. “It’s practically suicidal.”
Emerson studied the rear door. “If I can’t guess the six-digit combination to this door we’re not getting in regardless of whether it’s crazy or not.”
“Six digits. That’s a million different possibilities. It will take us all night, assuming we don’t get caught.”
Emerson punched a number into the keypad, and the red light on the door stayed lit. He thought a moment and tried again. There was an audible click, and the light turned green.
“I don’t believe it,” Riley said.
Emerson shrugged. “Sixty-seven percent of the time people choose a birthday or anniversary for the combination when it’s exactly six digits. In this case, it had to be a birthday that everyone in this compound could remember. One that’s important to all of them. The first one I chose was 102758, Teddy Roosevelt’s birthday. The second was 082516, the birthday of the National Park Service.”
“I think I would have preferred that you failed to guess the combination.”
Emerson opened the door and waited for Riley to enter. “I got lucky. I’m feeling extra discerning today.”
Riley and Emerson crept around the dimly lit warehouse, trying to get their bearings. Everything was pristinely clean, including the glass-tiled floor. A variety of white workstations, complete with everything you’d find in chemistry class, occupied one corner of the room. In another corner, robotic arms in a state of constant activity were connected to large pieces of freestanding machinery, each one enclosed behind three inches of what seemed to be bulletproof glass. The large metal donut sat in the center of it all.
Riley walked over to Emerson. He was staring at a big red button on the wall. “Emerson, you’re not thinking about pushing that button, are you?”
Emerson continued to stare at the button. “I was giving it some serious consideration.”
Riley grabbed him by the arm. “Remember when you once told me it was your life’s ambition to avoid terrible ideas?”
“Of course.”
“Well, I’m telling you that anytime there’s a big red button and you don’t know what it does, it’s a really awful decision to push it.”
“The problem is that is exactly what the button wants you to think. I think we should push it.”
“No.”
Emerson looked over toward the front door. “Is someone coming back?”
Riley turned to look, and the white milky glass tiles she was standing upon turned clear, revealing a swirling swimming pool–sized pit of boiling red magma beneath her feet.
“Holy crap,” Riley said. “What the heck?”
Emerson stared at the magma. “Well, that’s something you don’t see every day. The floor must be made of electric glass.”
Riley cut her eyes to Emerson. “You pushed the red button when I wasn’t looking, didn’t you?”
“I suppose you wouldn’t believe me if I said no,” Emerson said.
“Try me.”
Emerson looked at Riley. “No.”
Riley shook her head. “I don’t believe you.”
“What was I supposed to do?” Emerson said. “It’s a big red button.”
Riley threw her arms up in the air. “For the love of Mike, Emerson. Why can’t you just be the sort of guy who leaves his shoes all over the house or can never find his car keys? I just don’t think I’m the sort of woman who can ever be with a guy who goes around just willy-nilly pushing red buttons.”
“I propose a compromise,” Emerson said. “I’ll continue to push big red buttons, just not in a willy-nilly fashion.” He looked at her for a long moment. “About the button pushing and stuff. Are you considering a relationship with me?”
“Um, maybe. I mean, I am your amanuensis. Are you considering a relationship with me?”