It was the dead of night. While Peggy was having a rare heart-to-heart with Adam on the other side of the country, in Pasadena, California, at the California Institute of Technology, someone knocked on the door of an apartment in the doctoral housing complex.
Due to the time difference, it was 2 a.m. in New York, but only 11 p.m. here. Most college students would still be out partying hard at this hour, but not the resident of this apartment. By 9 p.m. every night, he was in his pajamas, tucked into his perfectly made bed with just his head sticking out, sleeping as soundly as Dracula in his coffin.
Well, okay—if there were actual thunder, he'd probably be wide awake. The guy's afraid of pretty much everything.
And who was this "vampire count"? None other than Sheldon Cooper, currently pursuing his second doctorate at Caltech.
In his sleep, Sheldon's face twisted in terror as he thrashed his head from side to side. "Gorn, don't crash into me! I'm just a train running on schedule! Don't hit me! Spock, save me!" he mumbled, eyes squeezed shut.
Suddenly—knock, knock, knock!—a sound came from the door.
"No!" Sheldon yelped, bolting upright. He frantically patted himself down, and once he confirmed he was still in one piece, he let out a long, shaky sigh of relief.
In his dream, he'd turned into a train engine, chugging along merrily with a cheerful choo-choo. Then, out of nowhere, a car pulled up beside him. Behind the wheel sat a monster with a crocodile head and a human body. One scaly hand rested on the window, its red eyes locked onto Sheldon, a menacing grin spreading across its face. With its other hand, it jerked the steering wheel, sending the car swerving toward the train as if to smash right into him.
That creature? It was a Gorn, an alien from Star Trek—Sheldon's favorite sci-fi show. Also, the star of his nightmares.
The first knock hit just as the Gorn floored the gas, charging at him. The second knock brought its snarling face so close he could almost smell its stench. By the third knock, the Gorn's car slammed into him full force.
In a panic, Sheldon jolted awake from the nightmare.
Knock, knock, knock! The pounding at the door didn't let up.
Scowling, Sheldon threw off his blankets, climbed out of bed, and shuffled toward the door. But then—pause. His annoyance melted into fear. He spun around and darted back to his bedroom.
When he reappeared, he was clutching a short stick. With a press of a button, a red beam shot out—yep, a lightsaber, straight out of Star Wars. Gripping it like a lifeline, he crept to the door and peeked through the peephole. Outside stood a gentle-looking middle-aged woman. But he wasn't fooled—behind her loomed a burly guy in a black suit. Suspicious.
"Who is it?" Sheldon called out.
"Is this Sheldon Cooper?" the woman asked.
"Yes. Who are you?"
"We're security from Caltech," she replied with a smile. "We're here to escort you to the University of Chicago for an academic exchange. It's urgent—we have to leave now. But don't worry, we've got a motorhome ready so you can sleep on the way."
Sheldon didn't doubt he deserved such treatment—naturally, he was a big deal. Still, he wasn't buying it. "You say you're school security. Prove it," he demanded through the door.
The woman held up a card with her photo to the peephole. "Here's our campus access card."
With a creak, Sheldon eased the door open halfway, the chain still latched, and studied them with a look that screamed, You might be up to no good. "What about his?" he asked, nodding at the man.
"Jon," the woman prompted. The guy—Jon—sighed and pulled out his own ID, holding it up for Sheldon to see.
"Satisfied?" she asked, still smiling.
"Wait a sec," Sheldon said. No way was he that easy to convince. He waved them off, slipped back to his bedroom, and rummaged through his wallet. Returning, he flashed a card at them. "This is my Justice League membership card."
Jon blinked. "Uh… what's that supposed to mean?"
"Just because I have this doesn't mean I know Batman," Sheldon sneered. Fake IDs? Please. Did they think he was born yesterday?
"You can call the campus security office—they'll vouch for us," the woman offered, grinning. "It's like if you called Commissioner Gordon to prove you know Batman. Then everyone would believe you're really in the Justice League and pals with the Dark Knight."
"You've seen Justice League?" Sheldon asked, his guard dropping just a hair.
"My son's obsessed with it, so I've watched my fair share," she chuckled.
"Hold on." Sheldon retreated to the living room, grabbed his phone, and dialed the school's security office. He interrogated them for ages, flipping their ID details every which way, tossing in trick questions to trip them up. His paranoia was on full blast.
"Now do you believe us?" Jon grumbled after standing outside for over ten minutes, watching Sheldon finally hang up.
"Absolutely… not!" Sheldon shook his head. "How do I know you're not all in on it?"
"Who'd waste their time on that?" Jon muttered, massaging his temples.
"Oh, really?" Sheldon flashed a sly grin. "Hard to say. Terrorists? Spies from some shadowy nation? Aliens?" His eyes narrowed, boring into them as he tightened his grip on the lightsaber, ready to lunge.
He couldn't help it. Fresh off a dream where the Gorn attacked him, and now two strangers show up in the middle of the night to whisk him away? Way too fishy. What if it was an alien plot? He was, after all, the king of intellect—humanity's last hope. If they nabbed him, Earth was done for. For the planet's sake, he had to stay sharp.
"So how can we convince you?" the woman asked, her smile turning weary.
"That's my line," Sheldon shot back, waving his lightsaber, shoulders hunched, eyes wide. "What can you do to make me trust you?"
"Alright, fine—we'll come clean," she said, throwing up her hands. "We're not from campus security."
"Aha! I knew it!" Sheldon crowed. "You evil aliens, trying to kidnap me! Dream on!"
"Actually," she continued, "we're professional security hired by your friend Adam Duncan to get you to the University of Chicago for your exchange. Don't believe us? Call him."
"Adam?" Sheldon squinted, still skeptical.
"Yep," she nodded.
It wasn't her going off-script. Adam had warned her when he set this up. If Sheldon bought their cover, great. If not, just tell him the truth. Adam knew Sheldon too well—he'd seen this coming a mile away. He'd hoped it wouldn't come to this, but, well, he'd underestimated his friend's stubbornness.