He was always one step ahead of the imaginary people prancing through a "deserted" building in the middle of the night. And while this really annoyed the imaginary people, Roy G. Biv had larger things to attend to. The seat in front of him, constructed for precisely the occasion should have, for all intensive purposes, been as vacant as the building.
Research started three months prior to present day, in an underground group known solely amongst themselves as the AAH, or, "Association for Aftermarket Humanity." Genetics possesses the prodigal ability of attracting the feeble minded. People desire godliness, and search for it in science, where they come close to finding it. That is, part is revealed. Part will suffice; it's the only lead humans have. But what these scientists were after was not part of the truth, or even the whole truth. The venture in question was out for a new truth. Only then could they eat, drink and be merry.
Before research can begin, questions have to be asked. Logical questions that sound plausible under the current assumptions of science. There also needs to exist a reasonable application for the answer to these questions. Only then can a dignified organization attempt seeking funds for such research.
Immortality, being the major perk of godliness, must not escape the bounds of science, and is therefore a credible base level for purposeful questioning. Death, to many humans, is the end of life, and any such termination is not acceptable if the possibility to avoid said threat does indeed exist. And the obvious answer is that of course humans can cheat death and become immortal through what partial truths are known.
The sheet covering the chair is cast aside, and the reader now learns that Roy G. Biv is not the only entity in the building. In the chair sits the living, breathing suspected answer to the previously prioritized threat. And its leaves have been rustled�