by David Harp
Chapter 52
RANEBOWGURL
The Sierra Club contingent came two weeks later on a Friday afternoon. Brian and Dan waited as the limo-bus arrived from the Tampa airport, stopping inside the main gate.
“Welcome to fantasy island,” Dan joked as they disembarked. Brian winced with embarrassment before starting the introductions.
“Good afternoon ladies and gentlemen. I’m Dr. Brian Adams. This is Daniel Naidoo. We’ll be your hosts.” (Dan was still working on his PhD at that time.)
The visitors were startled by a loud burst of air from the turntable compressor as it started lowering the limo-bus. As they bounded away from the noise, two of the visitors tripped on the raised concrete. Dan caught an elderly scientist before he fell. Brian instinctively caught Dr. Marglova, but then let go so fast she almost fell anyway.
The Sierra Club’s Dr. Warren was quick to recognize the awkward moment. He began introducing himself and his team. Dan directed the scientists toward the tram. Brian shook their hands in a professional manner as he described the DGV.
“You’ll be riding to the main complex in our diamagnetic gravity vortex vehicle. It operates on the earth’s magnetic energy grid and has a zero carbon footprint. Are there any questions?”
Brian was calm, his presentation was smooth until Dr. Marglova raised her hand. He began fidgeting. Dan felt Brian’s elbow nudge his side. It was Brian’s way of asking for help.
“Yes Doctor,” Dan responded.
“How will we get our luggage? We left it on the bus.”
“It’s already been sorted and is being delivered to your rooms.”
Brian resumed his presentation with a description of the DGV inertia dampening system and identification of flora and fauna along the way. Four of the guests appeared fascinated, but Dr. Marglova remained stoic.
“Our gardens contain over four hundred rare plant species, forty-six of which are considered extinct outside of this facility.”
“Is there a reason why you haven’t shared those formerly extinct plants with the rest of the world?” Dr. Marglova asked.
It seemed like a legitimate question to Dan, but he recognized Brian’s combative expression. Dan was expecting a fight, but Brian took a deep breath, then answered calmly.
“That’s a good question Dr. Marglova. Like the Sierra Club, the Institute is concerned with the potential impact of introducing new plants to the ecosystem. A plant which has been extinct for a million years could have a devastating impact on the environment if it isn’t properly managed. It’s the same problem we face with genetically modified plants.”
“And how do you intend to handle that problem?” She flashed a wry smile as if to say gotcha.
Brian smiled because the answer was at their first stop. It was the Institute’s quantum computer. Dan parked the DGV in front of Claude’s house, and Brian led the scientists into the vault.
“This is the only fully functional quantum computer on the planet,” Brian said as the visitors ogled the intricate control panel.
“Is this thing real? It looks like something from Star Trek,” an analyst commented.
“Without the quantum computer, the intricate gardens you’ve witnessed wouldn’t be possible,” Brian explained. “A complete list of the plant’s biological requirements such as light, nutrition, soil, humidity, and susceptibility to disease are fed into this computer. Then the computer uses predictive analytics to forecast the influence each plant will have on each other and the environment. It’s been 99.9% accurate.”
The look of surprise on the visitors’ faces was unmistakable. They stood motionless trying to process the wonder of the quantum computer. It seemed too good to be true, but the gardens were undeniable proof the Institute’s biodiversity project was far ahead of the rest of the world.
A special dinner and presentation was held in the planetarium that evening. Years of gloomy climate change predictions had weighed heavily on the Sierra Club scientists, so the Institute’s unfettered optimism was a refreshing change. Even though the visitors weren’t completely convinced the quantum computer could deliver as promised, they were encouraged.
The dinner was cheerful with a buoyant theme of scientific progress. While everyone else was talking and enjoying the dinner, Dr. Marglova seemed fixated on Brian. He could feel her cold stealthy glances.
After Claude ended the evening with an inspirational speech, Dr. Marglova made a beeline for Brian, blocking him at the door.
“It’s time to clear the air” she told him. Then she asked if there was some place private they could talk. Brian suggested the fire exit because it didn’t have an escalator. It was rarely used except in emergencies.
“There’s an open causeway in the back where I go when I want to be alone,” he said.
Dr. Marglova followed him outside and admired the scenic walkway nestled high above the trees. It was a clear night with a slight breeze. “This place is enchanting,” she said with a jealous sigh. “What I wouldn’t give to have an office like this. I hope you realize how fortunate you are to be part of the ORION Institute.”
“I do,” he replied, his voice cautious and suspicious.
“Do you remember when we first met?” she asked.
“Of course. It was only a couple months ago in Sequoia National Park.”
“No,” she said. “We met at the Global Forum on Science, Policy and the Environment in 2003. You were trying to convince me genetically altered crops could solve the world’s food shortage.”
Brian realized why she seemed familiar when he saw her on the Crescent Meadow Trail.
“Oh yes, now I remember. You walked off in a huff when Mr. Weston arrived. When I saw you in the Sequois, I knew you looked familiar but didn’t know why. Now I know you were playing with me.”
“I don’t blame you for being angry,” she said. “But I swear I didn’t know who you were in the Sequoias until you mentioned the Institute. I’m not your enemy. I’m very fond of you.”
Brian felt her fingers reaching for his hand. He pulled away. “I don’t get it. You don’t know me,” he said.
She turned and gazed at the moon. “I know you better than you think. There’s something else. You and I have been friends for almost three years.”
“What are you talking about?” Brian asked.
“I’m Ranebowgurl.”
“Oh god,” Brian said, feeling lightheaded. “I should’ve known. I told you things in confidence which could be used to undermine the Institute. What are you going to do?”
He turned, glared at her and spoke in an aggressive tone.
“Getting me fired is one thing, but exposing our work to the public could have unpredictable consequences.”
“I’m sorry you think I would do anything to hurt you or your precious Institute,” she said. “Let me put it this way, you didn’t tell Dr. Marglova anything. You shared a few hypothetical theories and dreams with a friend. There were no names or details given.”
“But you knew what I was talking about,” he replied. “And now you’ve seen the Institute. You know sensitive information about our work that I had no right to share.”
She grabbed both of his hands and held tight.
“One of the last things you said before walking away from our meeting in the Sequoias was ‘I don’t expect you to trust me.’ Well, I don’t expect you to trust me,” she whispered. “I’ll prove I’m your friend.”
Brian fought off an enormous desire to say something unkind. This was the girl who left him speechless in the Sequoias, and this was the girl he met online who in some weird way had become his trusted companion and friend. They walked down the steps in awkward silence as Brian led Katie to the guest quarters.
“Good night Dr. Marglova.”
A single tear ran down her cheek. “Good night Brian.”
When the Sierra Club analysts were prepared to leave, Dr. Warren gave Claude a preliminary summary of their findings. He was lavish with his praise, but said he
still couldn’t endorse the Institute’s genetic modification program.
“There are just too many unknowns. It isn’t worth the risk.”
“What more can we do to convince you?” Claude asked.
“We need more time to study the quantum computer,” Dr. Warren answered. “Would you consider taking on a Sierra Club liaison?”
“Whatever it takes,” Claude replied.
“Outstanding! I’ll stay in touch. Perhaps we can work something out,” Dr. Warren said as the team departed.
Brian avoided Dr. Marglova for the remainder of the visit, but she left a note for him with Claude.
Dear Brian, I believe in you. It was signed, Ranebowgurl.
