Nick had been staring at the inside of a workhorse Tektronix 2215A ocilliscope and pondering the magnitude of all it does, takes in a signal and essentially catches it, or catches up with it, and freezes it in time, like matching the speed of a motorcycle in the next lane on the highway, something moving but appearing still and observable to the eye.
None of the fleet were due for calibration, but he wanted to be ready, know the ropes. Paps had always received the Heathkit catalogs that included a scope calibrator, basically containing the time and voltage references within a tolerance good enough for non-critical work, but the school had the "official" variety of standards, this is the big league.
Something about the Teks had always fascinated him, even as a kid visiting his dad at work, it was an instrument that seemed to know things, but it's just a tool, still, a with unique vision, a crystal ball. The old ones had the round screen even, back when this eye to the soul of a circuit shed light on all the equations and theories that had been worked out largely on paper. Paper. Computers filled a room back then.
This one is a design that's over 10 years old but still everywhere in sight, every lab station. They still had a few older 475s around and even a relic boat anchor triple-5 tucked away, evidently part of the original endowment to get the program launched back when Nick was shitting in diapers. Naturally he didn't have to keep those in service but was tempted to fire one up some quiet moment when no one else is really around.
He had been hesitant to even take the cover off of the one in his office, his own to use as needed to diagnose equipment or even mess with side projects as time allows. The manuals are replete with warnings about high voltage around the CRT in particular, but then, he wasn't about to wet his finger and poke around the yoke. So he had purposefully left it powered off for a couple days then carefully undid the screws and even more carefully slid off the aqua cover. Circuits. Professionally, expertly designed and manufactured circuits. He sure wouldn't mind a tour of the grounds up in Oregon some day.
Nick didn't even hear footfalls, or maybe she crept up, Noreen poked her head around the corner to see him staring at the open case.
"Found the meaning of life in there yet?"
He startles and whips about, draws a deep breath, then gives her an exasperated look.
"Did you just transport in here?"
"Aye aye, Lieutenant."
"Lieutenant. So what's that make you?"
"Think I'll be...a Q."
"Great. At least you're not a Vash."
"Hey now, she has great legs...for a human."
"Well you got those."
She finds a clear spot of workbench, tilts her head back and strikes a pose, wearing jeans with the cuffs rolled up, pumps and frilly socks. "Got some news today."
"Good I take it?"
"How does two classes sound."
Nick just grins, "Sounds like progress."
"I'll progress YOU."
"Later."
She gets a twinkle in the eye, like a twitch, a split-second flash of coded data. "Is...that a promise?"
So later, as they stood around in her kitchen he'd thought to ask if she'd gotten into Blondie, and right on cue,
"Fab five freddie told me everyone's high, dee-jay spinnin and savin' my mind..." rapping into a wooden spoon, never misses a beat, of course, or a word for that matter..."and now he only eats guitars YEOWW."
Nick tries a few times to jump in but these waters are wayy too swift, like most of the Morse code he hears on the air, just ends up shaking his head, this gal, she had put his ass to work cutting taters and they took a walk over to the house while they boiled.
They agreed a brewsky sounds good with supper and she shows him how to slow-pour so you don't end up with lots of head. But he could get head some other time if it sounded good.
After dinner she got that look in her eye again, after a two-beat kiss she asks for the special thing.
So now he is on top of her back, with her front on the couch, he's gently protruding, things seem to always lead back to this, where it all started, not nostalgia but looking for something new in a special place. The little thing, whatever it is, is still where it always against his tip, Nick keeps his hands busy with her front-side amenities as they exchange licks here and there, he makes it last as long as he can.