The Friendly Mad Scientist
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Lightning In A BottleChapter 74: The World-Renowned Scientist free porn video
March 13, 2002
St. Petersburg, Florida
"I guess we'll find out soon enough whether it was worth coming up here," grinned Mike.
"I think it's worth checking out. Hey, if it doesn't work out, at least we got to take a nice little road trip," I cracked, from my shotgun position in Mike's Mercedes.
Moments later, he pulled into the parking lot at our destination – a huge used-car lot. The owner, who'd never actually met either of us in person, ran out to greet us with all the ingratiating charm of, well, a used-car salesman. Mike looked over at me and rolled his eyes in a circumspect manner.
Our used-car export venture was showing signs of taking off. Mike had established quite a few contacts abroad, and had made overtures with a good number of used-car dealers in the Miami area. The owner of this particular lot had gotten wind of our business, and had been doggedly bugging us to come and take a gander at his inventory. There were logistical concerns in getting involved with a dealer this far afield (it was a four-hour drive from Miami). Still, with me in town for one of my three-day consulting visits, we decided to a least go and see what he had to offer.
A couple of hours later, having gotten the grand tour followed by a relentless sales pitch, we were back out on the road. "Well, what do you think?" Mike inquired.
"He's got a good assortment of vehicles, particularly imports," I declared. "But with him being up here in the Tampa Bay area, how feasible would it be to do business with this guy? You know more about that than I do."
"I'd have to look at it a little closer," he replied thoughtfully. "Could we ship vehicles from up here, and do it economically? If we couldn't, we'd have to move the vehicles we purchase over land to Miami, which would be a minor ding to our profit margin. Anyway, what did you think of the guy personally?"
"Some words come to mind ... smarmy, fawning, buttery."
"You writers and your exotic words," laughed Mike. "What happened to good old 'weasel'? Anyway, if you ask me, I say we give this guy a pass."
"You're the boss," I said lightly. "But to tell you the truth, I agree."
Mike pulled out onto the freeway, as we began the trek back to Miami. I took my cell phone in hand and touched base with Inez back in New Mexico. We chatted for a few minutes, comparing our days, before saying goodbye. "Love you, angel," I said to her before hanging up.
A small smile crossed Mike's face. "You know, I never thought I'd say something like this – it violates the fiber of my being – but that marriage between you and my cousin is really something special. It almost makes me envious."
"Wow," I replied, more than a little surprised at that comment. "You're developing an appreciation for romance in your old, old age, aren't you, Mike?" I accentuated my remark with a cheeky grin; I'd never grown tired of ragging on him about his playboy ways.
"Maybe. You know, I'm forty-three years old. I'm not getting any younger. Sometimes, I'll admit, I consider the benefit of having someone special at home to put up with my moods and all that shit. In some ways, it must be nice."
I remained quiet; I wanted him to go on. I wondered if a significant acknowledgment was at hand. In many ways, Mike reminded me of the Pat O'Malley in the other timeline. On the surface, Mike's existence was a leisurely and carefree one. But underneath, I wondered if he felt unfulfilled and empty.
"And then," he grinned, "I'll tell myself, I'm only forty-three. Maybe I'll think about that shit, when I'm ... say, fifty-three."
I let out a hearty laugh, and clapped Mike on the shoulder. "You're the oldest juvenile delinquent I know."
By now, it was two o'clock, and we hadn't eaten lunch yet. "Up for some grub?" Mike asked me. I replied in the affirmative, and he exited the freeway at the next interchange. We found ourselves a Denny's in Sarasota.
Inside, we'd gotten seated, and our waitress had just handed us the menus, when my wandering eyes took note of another blonde-haired waitress who seemed to look a little bit familiar.
"Isn't that –" I blurted out, before catching myself. I wanted to make sure.
"Wait a minute. Isn't she..." Mike also said out loud. He was clearly fumbling around mentally, trying to recall her name. I finally locked eyes with the blonde server. Recognition spread across her face, and her name tag told me that she was exactly who I thought she was.
"Allie?!" I said incredulously.
The look on her face was indescribable. I could tell that one part of her wanted to crawl under a table and hide; she appeared that embarrassed. But there was also a definite component of curiosity in her expression. I waved her over. She hesitated for a bit, then cautiously approached our table.
"Can you talk for a minute?" I asked, well aware that she was on duty.
"I'm working now," she said, self-consciously wringing her hands. There was a sad aura about her that stood in marked contrast to the effervescent Allie I'd known so many years ago.
"What time do you finish?" I wanted to know.
"I'm done at five," she said, sounding decidedly unenthusiastic.
I looked at Mike. "What do you think?" I asked him. "Wanna hang around in the area till then?"
"Fine by me."
"We'll see you at five, Allie." She nodded, still looking mortified, then ran off to wait on another table.
"What do you think happened to her?" wondered Mike the instant we got into his car. Mike, of course, had met Allie on one occasion; they'd danced together a few times at our wedding.
"I don't know," I replied worriedly. I proceeded to tell Mike her story, or at least what I knew of it.
Allie, of course, had been a pop music sensation over a decade ago. But, like the vast majority of pop music sensations, her fame had been fleeting. Her first album, consisting of formulaic, throwaway drivel that we all felt was way beneath her, had nonetheless sold like wildfire. Her second CD, containing a similar assortment of pop fluff, had flopped. Her third one did even worse, causing her to be dropped by her record label.
She had been romantically involved with an older music producer none of us had ever met. A year or two after her music career went down the tubes, she just disappeared from our lives. Even Eileen – who'd been her best friend at one time – stopped hearing from her. She apparently changed her phone number and address without telling anyone. Not too long ago, Inez and I had tried to search for her on the Internet. However, every lead we'd followed had dead-ended. And now, here she was in Florida. What was her story? I hoped we'd find out. At least I knew she was alive.
A few hours later, we were back at Denny's. Here was Allie, halfheartedly waiting for us, wearing a blank expression. "I'm living with my grandmother," she told us. "Do you want to come over to her place?"
She clearly didn't want to talk in this setting, so we gave our assent. Allie got in her car and led the way. I was relieved to see that her grandmother lived in a reasonably affluent neighborhood, whose residents were primarily retirees.
Allie introduced us to her grandmother, who greeted us pleasantly and then beat a hasty retreat. Allie, Mike and I took a seat in the living room. At that point, Allie finally began to speak.
"I almost didn't wait for you back at the restaurant," she told us. "I was gonna tell them I felt sick, so I could leave early. But something told me to wait."
"We're your friends, Allie," I said gently. The 'we' was not meant so much to include Mike – who, after all, hardly knew her – but rather Inez, Eileen, and the rest of our little group, with whom she'd formed such a close bond many years ago.
She gave a slight nod, seeming to draw reassurance from my utterance. "How far I've fallen, right?" she said, managing just a trace of a distant smile. "From famous musician to Denny's waitress."
Mike cut in at that point. "Allie, careers in entertainment come and go. Everyone knows that. I don't know what happened to you afterward, but you have a college degree, don't you?"
"Yes, and a fat lot of good it's done me," she said bitterly. "All I have to put on my resume is my music career, from many years ago, which no employer cares about. Then, there was a long period of unemployment, followed by a few menial, low-paying jobs."
She sighed, appeared to come to a decision, and then opened up fully. "My music career went up in flames. That I can live with. It's what happened right afterward that landed me where I am today. You know that producer I got involved with? He ... abused the hell out of me for nearly four years. I was a virtual prisoner ... not allowed to leave the house, had to cut all ties with family and friends, the works. I knew you all were trying to get in touch with me, but I didn't dare reach out."
Mike and I were shooting stupefied glances at each other as she shared this awful tale. I wanted to tell her that of course she should have reached out to us, but opted to listen to the rest of the story first.
"One day, I'd had enough. I threw some belongings into a travel bag, and just left. Problem was, I had nowhere to go. I was out on the streets for about a week, but still, that was better than staying with that asshole. Then, someone stole my travel bag, and I had nothing. I placed a collect call to my grandfather here in Florida, and he wired me some money. I bought myself a bus ticket from LA to Florida, and some clothes for the trip.
"I have no other family to speak of. My father passed away many years ago. My mother didn't approve of my decision to pursue a music career, and we no longer speak to each other. My grandparents – and I thank my lucky stars every day that they were there for me – were happy to take me in. Unfortunately, Grandpa died about three years ago. Now, Granny is all I have in the world."
"You know that's not true, Allie," I put forth, aghast at what she'd been through.
A thin smile crossed her face; I couldn't tell if it was borne of doubt or hope. "So, anyway, that's my sad tale. Tell me ... how's the rest of the gang doing?" I got her up to date on all concerned. I also provided her with Eileen's contact information, and insisted that she call her.
"My sister wonders about you, I mean, all the time," I assured Allie. I also let her know that we would put our heads together, and come up with a way to get her the assistance she needed to get her life back on track.
Later in the evening, Mike and I were heading back to Miami. We discussed Allie's situation extensively. Finally, the conversation petered out. Still, I could tell that Mike had more to say. It took a while, but he finally spit it out.
"Pat," he told me in a strangely pensive tone, "you have this knack for helping out friends in need. You've done it lots of times. But in this case ... would you mind if I took the lead?"
"Not a problem," I assured him, concealing my intense curiosity.
May 21, 2003
"Well," Inez said to me as we drove together to the ballpark, "there's no reason for me to be nervous, because I've done this before, right?"
"You'll do fine," I smiled.
"Then again, I haven't sung in public for years and years. And the last time I did this, I had you, Eileen, and Evie backing me up."
"You'll do fine," I repeated, with a slight laugh.
Once again, my wife – who was, after all, a well-known psychologist in the Albuquerque area – had been asked to sing the national anthem at a minor-league baseball game. It was the first year of operations for the Albuquerque Isotopes (who, by the way, got their name from an episode of The Simpsons), the top minor-league affiliate of the Florida Marlins. One of Inez's patients had connections with the Isotopes' management, and had put in a good word for her. Inez briefly auditioned for them, and mentioned that she had experience performing in the setting in question. Just like that, she had another Star-Spangled Banner gig.
However, it was quite true that she was out of practice as a singer, and needed some help in getting back up to speed. Enter our oldest daughter, Lexie, who was now just a few weeks from starting life as a teenager.
"I'll set you up with Miss Teresa, Mom," declared Lexie upon hearing of her mother's upcoming gig. "She'll have you singing like a bird before you know it."
"Miss Teresa" was Lexie's voice teacher. To our delight, Lexie had inherited both her mother's beautiful singing voice and her parents' love for music. We'd gotten her involved with voice lessons at an early age, and it was really paying dividends. She was also turning out to be a skilled pianist; she'd unquestionably gotten her instrumental preference from her old man. We now had a grand piano adorning our living room, and Lexie spent large blocks of time seated in front of it. (These days, just for fun, I also was making an effort to re-acquaint myself with the ivories.)
Tina, meanwhile, was growing into yet another music lover. As a vocalist, she was nowhere near her sister's equal. However, she made up for that with an amazing degree of instrumental versatility. At nine years of age, she could already hold her own on the piano. She was also learning the guitar, an instrument which held little interest for Lexie. On top of that, Tina was becoming proficient on the violin, to the never-ending delight of her Aunt Eileen (who was now an accomplished violinist).
It took one thirty-minute session for "Miss Teresa" to declare my wife ready for her pregame ballpark performance. "I'm not sure if I agree with that assessment of hers," laughed Inez. "But I guess in some ways, singing is like riding a bike."
That evening at the stadium, with the girls and I in the stands, Inez proceeded to knock 'em dead. To my ears, she sounded the same as she always had. She even threw in a one-octave jump on the big note near the end, just as she'd done in Albany, New York years ago. Afterward, a front office person approached her about a repeat rendition, and Inez enthusiastically agreed to do it again at another game in August.
"Looks like this could turn into an ongoing thing," I remarked on the way home.
"Music and baseball," Inez mused. "Two long-time interests of mine – of ours – that we've pretty much ignored recently. You know what? One of the simplest yet most rewarding pleasures in life is re-discovering an old interest in a new setting."
January 29, 2004
On an overcast, frigid afternoon in the dead of winter, I found myself gazing out my upstairs office window at the snow-covered mountains. The words were coming slowly on this particular day. I was well into my latest novel (my seventh), and for some reason, my mind didn't want to stay in one place. To make matters worse, my phone rang. I don't need another distraction, I thought.
But to my relief, the caller was Dave. "Hey, nine-to-fiver," I joshed right away. We'd taken to joking around about our markedly different professional lives. He had a regular job and a normal, structured workday. I, however, was self-employed in every sense of the word, and I set my own hours.
Today, Dave's work was the focus of our conversation. He'd been dropping hints for quite a while that he was involved with something of substantial importance. However, up till now he'd been unable to reveal the specifics because of confidentiality concerns that were inherent in scientific research. On this chilly afternoon, all that changed, and I could hear it in his voice.
"We've patented what we've done," Dave informed me, "and since the patent was issued last month, our work is now public knowledge. There's no longer any requirement to be hush-hush about it."
"Couldn't a competitor try to work their way around the patented material?" I wondered.
"They could, but we're light years ahead of the competition now. Remember, it takes years for an invented compound to go from discovery in the lab to a commercial drug. We've had this in the pipeline for almost four years now."
"This sounds pretty big," I noted. "You never did tell me exactly what specific area you're involved with."
"Well, you know I'm in the virology field. Think viruses. Of all the viruses you've heard of, which one is easily the most publicized nowadays?"
I didn't have to think too long about that one. "HIV?" I speculated.
"Bingo."
I put two and two together, and was suitably impressed. "You mean to tell me you're working on an HIV drug?"
"We are. There's actually three of us who collaborated in inventing our lead compound. Besides me, there's a Jamaican scientist down the hall named Ronald Addison. And then there's our other collaborator, who you've already met. Remember that young graduate student we helped the day before Paul and Jasmine got married? The one with the leaky radiator hose?"
I laughed at the memory. "Her name is ... Katie, right? And if I remember correctly, you and I didn't do a whole hell of a lot to help her."
"Don't remind me," Dave chuckled. "Anyway, when Katie got her degree, she sent me her resume. I passed it along to the powers that be, and they hired her right away. Her background in biochemistry has really been a big help."
"So, tell me ... just how close are you to coming up with a cure for AIDS?"
"Well, it wouldn't be a cure per se. In layman's terms, if it works the way we hope it will, it would leave the virus inactive and unable to reproduce itself. We're about to push it through to the final stage of clinical testing. So far, it looks real promising. It's surprisingly easy and economical to synthesize, has almost no side effects, and can be taken orally. One of the big challenges with HIV is its tendency to mutate into drug-resistant forms. This compound of ours has an amazing tendency to work equally well against every mutant form we can identify."
I mulled that over for a second. "Holy shit, Dave. It sounds like you're on the verge of something major here. Keep me posted, okay?"
"I'll do that, dude," Dave assured me. "But if this thing pans out like we hope it will, I won't need to keep you posted. You'll be hearing about it on the news."
August 21, 2004
It should come as no surprise that we frequently hosted out-of-town guests. At least four or five times a year, someone – be they family or friend – traveled to Albuquerque and stayed over for a few days. We enjoyed those occasions greatly, and in fact, lived for them.
Today, we found ourselves hosting a first-time visitor for the weekend: Allie. This was not the same down and out, hopeless and world-weary Allie who Mike and I had stumbled onto two years ago in Florida. This new Allie was self-assured, bubbly and vivacious. The transformation was startling, and a joy to behold.
We were gathered together there on our backyard deck, with Inez's parents in attendance. Our daughters were splashing around in the pool with some friends of theirs. The focus of conversation was Allie's new job. She and I, in a sense, were now co-workers.
"So, how are you enjoying my old job, Allie?" inquired Lupe with a twinkle in her eye. Yes, Allie had moved to Miami, and was now head receptionist and office manager at Mike's shipping warehouse. She'd also managed, just by growing every day, to accomplish the unthinkable: she'd stolen Mike's heart. They were now very much An Item, and it looked pretty damn serious.
"For now, the job is fantastic," smiled Allie in response to my mother-in-law's query. "That's not what I want to do in the long term, though. You know I'm taking night classes. I'm shooting for another bachelor's degree in business management. The timing is good, since Mike wants to start concentrating on the auto export business about a year from now. Hopefully, at that point I'll be ready to take over as manager of the merchandise shipping sector." I'd spoken at length with Mike about these plans, and was thrilled for Allie – even though it meant my role in the business would diminish greatly.
"Do you ever have any thoughts – even fleeting ones – about giving music another shot?" asked Inez.
"I really don't," said Allie firmly. "I gave it all I have. Yes, if I had it to do over again I might choose a different type of music career. But I believe everything happens for a reason."
Javier then spoke up. "Tell me something, Allie. How did you manage to tame that nephew of mine? I thought he would never settle down."
A bright smile flashed across Allie's face. "He and I talk all the time about his former ways. I can't put my finger on what caused him to change, but the important thing is that, as he got to know me, he did. He treats me far better than any man I've known. Pat and Inez can vouch for the rotten luck I've had in the romance department, going back to the Ron Wilton mess in college. I'm now well aware that I have self-esteem issues to conquer, and with Mike's help and that of my counselor, I'm getting there."
Shortly after Mike and I ran into Allie at Denny's, Inez had reached out and offered to refer Allie to a colleague of hers in Florida. Allie had taken her up on that offer. "Inez, thanks again for that referral," said Allie, her expression turning serious. "Next to meeting up with Mike, that was the most crucial step in my recovery."
"You're quite welcome. I'm always happy to help out a friend in need," smiled my wife.
"My counselor suggested that I get involved with support groups for abused women," Allie mentioned. "I've given a few talks already. My status as a former celebrity gives me some credibility. One long-range dream of mine is to start some kind of a charitable organization to support women who have suffered from relationship-related violence."
This, of course, was Inez's field of expertise. She'd expressed similar interests to me privately on more than one occasion.
"That's a wonderful idea," she said to Allie. "Something to work toward."
October 19, 2005
"Got a surprise for you, Pat," my sister said to me teasingly on the phone.
"A surprise?" I laughed. "I'm always up for those. Lay it on me."
"We're moving back to New Jersey."
"You're... what? When? How?" I stammered. I hadn't seen that coming.
"One question at a time," Eileen giggled. "Dave was just awarded a promotion at work, because of what he and his group accomplished. He's been made a director. That means he'll automatically be transferred to the site in New Jersey. It's the same place where Jasmine works. He told the management that because of my job, he'd like to remain at the Philly site until next summer, when school lets out. They agreed to that. Of course, I'll have to find another teaching job in New Jersey, but I've got a couple of leads already."
She filled me in on the details, before handing the phone to Dave. "Congrats on the promotion," I told him sincerely. "And your prediction was right on the money. I saw you on the news the day before last."
Dave's discovery, which had made its way through the final stages of clinical testing with flying colors, was being hailed as one of the most significant pharmaceutical breakthroughs in modern history. He and his two colleagues had designed a drug that, while it didn't remove HIV from an infected person's body, rendered the virus completely inactive and benign. It was generally believed that once the drug hit the market and became widely distributed internationally, it would spell the end of the AIDS epidemic which had plagued humanity for more than twenty years. Of course, this breakthrough simply did not happen in the other timeline, certainly not by my recycle point in 2007. Apparently, an improved Dave was all it took.
Annalisa
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