Chicago.
The MacArthur Genius Grant awards ceremony had officially ended.
Adam reminded Sheldon, asking whether he was interested in conducting an intimate experiment involving his own skull and a rock.
Sure enough.
Sheldon, who had always loved scientific experiments, still looked down on geologists in this regard.
Emmm.
He felt that a geologist's rocks were unworthy of being experimented on alongside the brain of a true scientist like himself.
So.
The moment Sheldon returned to his room, he immediately locked the door from the inside.
In the bedroom.
Sheldon lay in his classic zombie sleeping posture. He had just closed his eyes when he immediately opened them again and looked toward the closed door.
It was not because he could still hear the lullaby of "Welcome to Chicago" here.
After all, this was territory shrouded in capital.
Compared to them, Chicago Typewriters were small potatoes, naturally keeping their distance.
Rather, that background music kept playing in Sheldon's head.
Unable to sit or lie still, Sheldon could not help getting up and walking to the bedroom door. He twisted the already locked doorknob again and again, confirming repeatedly that it was locked before nodding slightly and turning toward the bed.
But after only two steps, his calm expression vanished. He immediately hugged the nearby cabinet and, with all his strength, slowly moved it bit by bit to the doorway, bracing it against the door.
"Phew."
Looking at the cabinet blocking the door, Sheldon let out a long breath. Only then did he return to bed and resume his zombie sleeping posture.
But then a new problem arose.
He opened his eyes again, sat up, and looked sidelong at the floor-to-ceiling window beside him.
This was the twenty-sixth floor of a high-rise.
Logically, no one could enter through the floor-to-ceiling window to