At five foot eleven and whip thin, sixteen year old Patrick might have been able to play for the baseball, soccer, or basketball teams, except for certain circumstances. The biggest was that he was often ill-coordinated to the point he was considered clumsy as well as he had no depth perception and needed glasses to correct his vision. Then there was his three friend, who he played Dungeons and Dragons with, and thus were deemed by the cool kids as outcasts. In addition to this, among other minor titbits, he was often made fun off not only because of his appearance and whom his mates were, but also because his grades were often A- to A, with only an occasional dip to B+ if he was frazzled about something.
Like other boys his age, he was interested in some sports and girls. But just like he had an inability to play for the high-school teams, he also found he was unable to talk to any of the girls at school. Every time he tried, he'd come over shy. And if he tried to force himself, he became tongue-tied, so flustered his face often turned a funny shade of red, and he'd excuse himself, muttering about things he'd needed to take care or places he needed to be.
Home was okay. His mom had a job for a law firm, whilst his dad did something with a publishing agency. Both of them loved him, he knew this for a fact, though his father often practiced what he called, "Tough Love" and insisted that Patrick was lonely and that what he needed to get over being so was to find the right people to hang around with, the right girl to take to the dance and go out with. Neither of his parents said anything negative about how he looked or his clumsiness, which Patrick thought might have to do with how much he looked like his dad, with the biggest difference being their height, as his pop stood around six foot three, whilst Pat it seemed would likely top out at six foot.
But none of this bothered the teenage boy, or so he told everyone when they asked questions about certain things in his life. Every time they asked, he’d smile his quiet smile and offer a short, to the point answer before he'd change the subject in a subtle way that nobody but he noticed.
One Saturday that was so far turning out like any other day, he was waiting to hear from his friends to see if they wanted to hang out, as well as waiting for a package. Having ordered a new role-playing book for Dungeons and Dragons, he was anxious for it to show it, as he was looking for to reading it and seeing if there was anything him and his mates could implement into their current campaign. The problem he was having was the book he was waiting for was already behind schedule, and he was worried that it had actually been delivered and some porch pirate had snatched it out of the letter box. Sitting in the living room, flipping through channels, hoping today would be the day the package would show up, he was surprised when the doorbell rang.
His friends hardly ever did that, and with a frown, wondering who it was, he clicked off the television. Heading across the living room, he peeped through the small window and seeing the dark skinned woman who usually delivered the mail, he opened the door and greeted her, "Morning Ms Gallagher."
"Got a package here for you sign, honey," the woman said in her usual terse, straight forward manner, a smile on her face to let others know she was in a friendly mood.
Curious to know why he'd have to sign for the package, Patrick took the pen and clipboard offered, wrote his name, "Patrick McHenry" on one line, signed it on the next, handed the stuff back to post carrier, and was surprised when she took not a book shaped package from her bag but rather a square small box wrapped in brown paper and tied with a tan string.
"You have a good day, honey," Ms Gallagher told him and with an absent nod, Patrick said, "Thank you. You as well," as he shut the door.
Not sure what the package was, as the return address was from TransDem Labs from some place in Kansas he didn't recognise, he was hesitant to open it at first. Taking it to the kitchen, he set it on the table, and after a thinking about, fetched a sharp knife from the block on the counter and sliced through the string and paper. Opening the box, he saw that there was packed inside a computer disk and a letter. Opening the letter, he frowned as he read what was printed, noted that there was stuff missing, specifically the emitter and USB cable, and in the end wondered if the thing was a joke. Taking the disk out of its jewel case, he flipped it over and saw there was nothing printed on either side, but one side was reflective red, whilst the other was reflective blue. Putting it back, he set it on the counter and flattened the box it had come in as he thought about whether it was a joke.
Box tossed in the bin for recyclables, he headed for his room, where he booted up the laptop he'd built from parts he scrounged and bought with his allowance. Inserting the disk, he watched as it auto-installed the programme, activated the camera built in and the external camera he had plugged in via USB C port, and was taken aback when he read what it could do. After a moment, he sat back, stunned, unable to believe what he'd read, thinking, "No fucking way," and drumming a finger on his desk chair, he considered his options.