the elderly projectionist said. “I don’t mind at all, Professor.” For the third time, Lucas assured him that he could do it himself, so long as the projectionist gave him a quick tutorial. “Okay then,” the man said, adjusting various switches and knobs. “Let me at least load it for you and get it ready to run.” As he did so, Lucas looked around the cramped booth with the sagging acoustical tiles, the fire extinguisher in the dusty case, and the metal racks jammed with film canisters and slide boxes and, of all things, mousetraps. “You have a problem with mice?” The projectionist grunted. “No matter how many times we tell the students not to bring food into the auditorium, they do anyway.” Brushing the palms of his hands together, he said, “I’ll leave it to you then.” Inching around Lucas, he slipped out of the booth. No sooner was he gone than Lucas heard Delaney, sitting beside Simone in the auditorium, clap in mock frustration and shout, “Let’s get this show on the road!”
