I turn the cool, steel doorknob and stroll into the expansive room. The walls are padded, as to keep the right noise in and other noises out. The room is laid out before me, the large clear plasma TV that sits directly in front of the oak desk with my red leather office chair pushed into it. I sigh, and then smile as I glide towards the desk. As I sit, I open the second drawer on the left bringing out my slender, black laptop. The screen looks as bright as my smile. I rapidly tap my fingers on the keyboard, allowing myself access. I drag my program to the top of my laptop, and turn on the television. Once the television is on, I slide it smoothly from the tiny screen, to the lard high definition screen of the television. The large overhead view lets me see the full circle of the virtual Hadron Collider; the one I created. This is the project that I have poured my sweat and tears into for the past two years. Writing all the code, setting up the graphic design, and of course plugging in all the mathematical algorithms that determine which elements combine and which do not.  The best part is that I can intensify this whenever the Hadron Collider upgrades as well. Which basically means, when the Hadron Collider is upgraded with new technology, I can do the same upgrades. All I need are the specifications, and boom; I’m at the same level of calculation six months in advance. Normal kids my age use their free time building miniature planes. I decided to recreate a billion dollar program. One thing that you must understand is that my thirst for education is pure curiosity, and when I finished the Hadron Collider, I was filled with more pride than I’d want to admit. Now my mornings are spent smashing different elements together at the fastest speed that mankind can produce. I relax into my chair and press a key code into my laptop, which brings up two atoms at the same end of the collider. I press ENTER, and watch the rapid acceleration of the two atoms in slow motion counting their max speeds. It slows down even further and changes point of view to first person, bringing the camera down to face the exact location in which the atoms collide. Code flares up on the screen, and at first I’m worried, but that worry turns into an undeniable, irrefutable grin. I, Aaron Williams had found a new element. Digitally, with no need to spend a billion dollars on creating the actual hadron collider. But worry seeps in. How am I going to explain this? How am I going to document this? I don’t want to document it, because if I document it, then it’s recorded forever. I’m recorded forever. I sigh, and run my hand through my hair sleek with newly formed sweat, running through every possible outcome. Only to decide that I was going to procrastinate, and leave the studio for a time. I look at my watch, and groan; I hear the bus outside, time to go.