11
The lecture hall rose up before Dale in stadium tiers. Not a football stadium, but more like an old medical demonstration theater. Each tier had a long counter to serve as a desk and uncomfortable-looking swing-out plastic chairs mounted every few feet behind it. Right in front of Dale, a knot of people clustered around the podium and the lowest tier. The place smelled of too many nerdy men who had traveled too far and claimed too much breakfast.
The sudden tidal wave of noise, people excitedly arguing and greeting one another, pounded against Dale’s brain.
His feet lurched to a halt.
Thick crowd, no visible aisle—how could he get through?
Someone bumped his back.
Dale’s coffee threatened to slosh over the Styrofoam cup.
He felt his face flush with embarrassment.
“Come on,” some
