James had come to the institute today to inspect the newly successful transistor research.
Five or six years earlier, at his request, the Howlett Advanced Technology Institute had completed its first-generation vacuum-tube digital computer. Just these past few days, it had finally overcome the technical hurdles involved in developing transistors.
As the car passed along the street behind the institute, James spotted a small, skinny kid repeatedly charging into several boys who were much bigger and taller than he was, meeting them head-on.
He had the driver pull over and watched the "battle" unfold with interest.
His keen eye immediately told him that the scrawny, fair-haired boy was naturally frail. A conservative estimate would be that he suffered from two or three symptoms of stunted physical development.
Children like him often shied away from fights, especially physical ones. But James couldn't see the slightest trace of fear or retreat in the boy. He carried himself as if he were the strong one and didn't care in the least when he lost a fistfight.
It reminded him of himself once upon a time. The resemblance left James momentarily dazed, stirring up long-faded fragments in his mind.
Steve Rogers stammered out his thanks. He earnestly refused the strange man's kind offer and thanked him for it, but his refusal had no effect. The man picked him up, put him in the car, and bought him a pile of groceries and daily necessities along the way.
"Steve Rogers. Steve."
James felt as if he'd heard the name somewhere before, but he couldn't remember where.
"It's a very common name, Mr. Howlett. A very typical American name," Steve said, understandingly. He glanced out the window to indicate that they had arrived.
"Mr. Howlett, why don't you and the gentleman come inside for a cup