Emery enjoyed listening to music. Jazz could be heard throughout the office while he performed the various tests or wrote up the reports his job required. It was a habit he’d picked up in school.

It had two purposes. Hearing music seemed to focus his mind. If he had one sound to focus on all the myriad of ideas that seemed to run through his mind settled down as if waiting for their turn. In addition, he could always pretend that he hadn’t heard someone if they tried to talk to him, interrupting his work.

“Sorry,” he said as he finished the test. He turned to find Hurley waiting, quietly, if not very patiently. “I only just realized you were there,” he added, as he turned down the music.