“David was trouble, so the University appointed him Rum-Running Dean of Party Organizing?” “It does sound crazy when you put it that way.”
“Maybe you weren’t cut out for Dean.” “You don’t respect the institution of higher education.” “Not when it’s run like any other business.”
“Do you feel being made security guard is a demotion from Dean of Students?” Stacy glares at me. “I’m Head Security Guard for this campus.”
I need to look around campus to see if they are holding Regi. It would be better not antagonize the Head of Security. “I’m sure you are.”
Showing up via David’s Taxi Service does nothing to enhance my credibility. I need to create distance between us. “David was just my ride.”
“Uh huh” Stacy takes my measure. She might have me sewn up. As she cuts me down to size I let out more fabrications, thwarting her needling.
“How do you know the Chancellor?” she asks. “We were in mail order law school together.” “And Dean Kwitecontrari?” “She was my babysitter.”
Chance is Stacy buys my embroideries, so I plan my Regi hunt. First, cut my escort like a bad hairdo so I can comb the campus unencumbered.
Then, I search the MegaDorms. Six dorms times six floors; ten minutes per floor. 10 X 6 X 6 is 360 minutes or 6 hours. 30 minutes for lunch.
Another 10 for bathroom breaks. Plus the labs, lecture halls, admin buildings and offices. I figure I will complete my search by Christmas.
Regi may be restrained, unable to communicate. She may not even be on campus. I’ll need to expand my search to cover the rest of the island.
Then there are nearby islands and the mainland. At this point Regi could be anywhere is the world. I wish I brought a change of underwear.
On the chance I’ll find her online, I open my state-of-the-art search technology. Sadly, my Phone Finder app shows a “Server Error” message.
My exhaustive search finds Regi not on Facebook, Tumblir, LinkedIn, Foursquare, SnapChat, ValueMD or cafemom. Virtually, she isn’t anywhere.
Wait! My cell screen flashes repeatedly as Regi’s name pops up on Twitter! Oh. These are my own tweets. Never mind. My cybersearch fails.
I know odds of success shrink with each passing second. According to the doppelGränger, Regi’s life, reality itself may hang in the balance!
I’ll carry out my search the hard way, in the physical world. I’d better get started. Time is of the essence and my target area is tangible!
Stacy says “Your guide is here.” I turn around and there’s Regi, chatting it up with David. That turned out to be easier than I thought!
Time to play it cool. If anyone gets an inkling Regi and I know each other, the jig is up. Regi jumps up and wraps her legs around my waist.
“Arkaby! What are you doing here?” She kisses me on the lips. Stacy says “You two know each other?” “Umm. Hold that thought for a minute.”
Regi’s heavier than I recall, her hair’s a mess and her eyes have dark circles, but as we kiss I feel a familiar “click” in my solar plexus.
(The Twitter Mystery continues daily at @Twitstery)