by Ward Wagher
“The hotel staff will get you into your room. When you and Margaret determine the best times for you to visit, I will make a car available to you.”
“Thanks, Mr. Winkleman.” Larry climbed out of the car, and the doorman shut the door. Larry then turned to face the old man, who motored the window down. “I really don’t know what I’m doing, do I? Can you give me advice when I need it.”
Winkleman chuckled softly. “I would be delighted to do so. However, I must warn you about the value of free advice. The window raised, and the car eased away from the hotel entrance.
Larry recognized the bellhop from his previous stay at the hotel and greeted him.
“Good to have you in the house again, Sir. If you like, I can take you to your room, now.”
“That would be great. Thanks.”
“My pleasure, Sir.”
They stepped into the elevator and rode to the seventh floor. The hallway was quiet and dim. The bellhop handed Larry a keycard and then allowed him to open the door. They stepped into an expansive suite, which was brightly lit from the sun shining through the windows.
“This is very nice,” Larry said.
“The Paladin wants you to be comfortable. The bedroom is through that door, there. Over here is the bathroom, and kitchenette. You are, of course, entitled to eat your meals at the buffet, or order from room service. We are happy to serve you, either way.”
“Thanks. And, forgive me, but I have never asked your name.”
“Quite all right, Sir. My name is Lyle Wagar.”
Larry stuck out his hand. “Thank you for all the help you have provided. I know I’m not the easiest person to be around, but I do appreciate your service.”
“Mr. Berthold, we are honored to have you in the house.”
After the bellhop left, Larry stood gazing around the room. Then, he walked over and quietly opened the door and peered down the hall. The elevator doors were just closing. Nodding to himself, he eased the door shut, again. He walked over to the dinette set along one side of the room and pulled out a chair. He carefully set the chair in the middle of the room. He took a step back and then kicked the chair so that it tumbled several times across the room.
“Why does everything have to be so frickin hard?” he screamed.
He stood looking at the chair for perhaps two minutes, then limped over to retrieve it. He looked it over carefully to make sure it wasn’t damaged, then placed it back under the table. Looking around the room he spotted his computer on a side table. He then dropped into the sofa and began reviewing his doctoral dissertation.
§ § §
At the hospital, Maggie was finally able to relax. She loved Larry dearly, but he also drove her crazy. She was glad Arthur took the hint and got him out of there. He was clearly worrying himself sick over her, and he really needed to focus on his work. And, she needed to have conversations with the medical staff without him interrupting and offering opinions. She knew there were plans to make. She waited until one of the young interns came in to check her vitals.
“I can’t feel anything from my legs down,” she told the doctor. “I assume you know that.”
“Yes, Ma’am. There was nerve damage in your spine.”
“And I’m never going to walk again, am I?”
The doctor squirmed uncomfortably.
“Come on, I already know the answer,” she snapped.
He frowned. “You really should be talking to the resident.”
“I’m talking to you.”
He sighed. “The considered medical opinion is that you will not walk again. However, there is always hope.”
“And the Easter Bunny might even walk through the door there, right?” she said.
“Please, Ma’am. I am not supposed to be giving you my opinions.”
“Who is going to know?” she demanded. “Am I going to have to wear a diaper all my life?”
“No, Ma’am. You seem to be able to control your bodily functions well. The therapist will have to work with you on maneuvering the wheelchair, but, other than the nerve damage, you will make a full recovery.”
“And I will be able to fulfill my marital obligations?”
The intern blushed brightly. “I don’t think we should be having this conversation.”
“Just answer the question!”
“Yes.”
“And I’ll be able to enjoy it.”
“Please, this is highly improper.”
She raised an eyebrow and glared at him.
“Yes,” he said quietly.
“That’s all I needed to know,” she said. “Sorry to be such an ogre. Everybody is treating me like a china doll, but I’m a big girl. I am not happy about what happened to me, but life is rarely fair. I’ll survive, and I’ll be happy.”
“Um. I need to leave.”
“Thanks for your help.”
And, the intern fled out of the room.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
Larry reminded himself how much better things were in Indianapolis. He was living in a luxury suite that was easily three times the size of his flat in Maseeh Hall. He was able to take all his meals in the hotel dining room. He did not have to worry about paying for the heat and electricity. He looked at it as an enabler, so he could focus on completing his dissertation. And, he knew that was Arthur Winkleman’s intentions.
Yet, Larry was still consumed with worry over Maggie. He was now convinced that she would not walk again, but everyone was close-mouthed about it. When the doctorate was complete, he would shift from being a student to a formal employee of the College of Urbana. He needed to make plans for that, however, he was used to bouncing those ideas off of Maggie. His hour per day visits did not leave enough time for him to discuss everything he wanted to talk to her about.
He created a file and started making notes on things he needed to discuss with her. It was not a very long list, and he wondered why it would consume so much time. He remembered her telling him on several occasions that he loved to talk things to death, but that could not be true, could it? There was nothing wrong with subjecting things to careful analysis.
Larry spent time pacing around his hotel suite. It was still too cold to go out and take a long walk. In addition, he was a bit frustrated at the interruption of his lab work. He wanted to develop further the ideas related to making singularities. He fully understood the dangers of what he was studying, but he sensed the singularities he theorized would be ephemeral and could only be maintained by the application of power.
He had read fictional accounts of scientists who had created a black hole, only to lose control of it. In these stories, the singularity sank to the middle of the Earth, where it eventually sucked the whole planet into its maw. Such things undoubtedly existed in the universe and were unquestionably dangerous. But such an object had to have enough mass to maintain its state, and that mass was substantial.
By creating a singularity from outside force, using the Osiris Cells, he was confident he could create and destroy singularities at will. And, he believed that these singularities maintained internal physical laws that were different from the Newtonian-Einsteinian universe. For example, the preliminary calculations indicated that the space inside a singularity was in a quantum state where things could move instantaneously, and there was no speed of light limit. More accurately, light itself would move instantaneously within the soap bubble of his quantum singularity.
Larry spent some time theorizing on his discovery if it was that. Ultimately, he was able to sit down and focus on the dissertation itself. He was careful not to extend the dissertation into the areas where his current thoughts ran. He had demonstrated forces, which would ultimately provide workable anti-gravity. This would revolutionize industry and transportation on Earth. And, that would be enough. It would secure his doctorate, and probably make him famous. Although, he had mixed emotions about being famous.
The profits that Arthur Winkleman would share with MIT for the anti-gravity devices would bring
wealth to the ancient school and give the leadership an opportunity to regain the school’s former glory. But, Larry intended to share his work on singularities only with Winkleman. He idly wondered if there would be a way to enclose a spaceship in one of the singularities, and thereby provide it with almost unlimited speed. If that were the case, he was holding the key to travel to the stars. He shivered as he considered the implications of his thinking. He did not in any way feel the equal of the great Clenèt. He knew that he was basically a bumbler. But, he was also very confident he was on the right track. His work with the Osiris Cells confirmed that. What he really needed was to develop a working relationship with another physicist; someone who could critique his work dispassionately. He wondered if he could find someone like that in Urbana.
The winter finally seemed to be waning in late March, although no one planned extended outdoor activities until the end of May. Several days of unremitting sunlight cleared the slush from the streets and exposed the sidewalks. Larry was finally able to resume his walks. In a few days, he had explored most of Indianapolis. Like most other cities it occupied only a small portion of the area it claimed prior to the fall of civilization. Unlike Boston and Cambridge, however, the Hoosiers, as they liked to call themselves, had industriously cleared away the rubble of the old city. The town of about thirty-five thousand denizens was fresh, clean and compact.
After a six-week stay in the hospital, Arthur had Maggie installed in the suite across the hall from Larry. Mindful of Arthur’s advice, he tried to avoid spending every spare moment with the girl. He discovered that as he gave her space, he gave himself space. He had met a number of the citizens of the city during his hikes and even accepted lunch invitations with them. He took the time to listen to Maggie, and then follow her directives on when and where to help her. She had adapted quickly and easily to the wheelchair, so it seemed, and readily accepted the challenge of being fully independent, despite her new handicap.
By early May, Larry had completed his dissertation, and after spending several days with Maggie as she edited and argued, he sent it off to Fluffy Pournelle. The professor promised a quick review, and Larry was hopeful he would soon have his doctorate from MIT. He worried, however, about more unforeseen events that would interrupt the deal.
He answered a knock on his door one day and ushered David Fitcher into the suite.
“I had to come to the city to conduct business today, and I also wanted to have lunch with you and Margaret,” he said.
“I would enjoy having lunch with you,” Larry said. “I can check with Maggie, but I’m sure she would, too.”
“Fine,” he nodded. “I also have your employment contracts for the College of Urbana. The Paladin wants us to get you on the payroll as soon as possible.”
“And I’m anxious to get to work,” Larry replied. “Let me give Maggie a call.”
Within two minutes, Maggie rolled into Larry’s suite.
“Dr. Fitcher, how good of you to visit,” she said.
“We have been excited about your arrival since the Paladin notified us that you would be coming to Urbana. And I am so happy at your recovery,” he said, turning to Maggie.
“Thank you,” she said. “Not something I would have preferred, obviously. But, I think things are going well now.”
“Yes, yes,” Fitcher continued. “I will be meeting with the Paladin later today, and I will be asking him when it would be appropriate to move you from here to Urbana.”
“And, I am anxious to get started,” Larry said. “I just sent my completed dissertation to MIT and am hopeful they will grant the degree soon.”
Fitcher grimaced slightly. “We should just hope that it doesn’t get tied up on the campus politics at MIT. I have heard they are… well, Byzantine.”
Larry thought for a moment. “I hope so, too.”
He knew that Arthur had greased the ways for him and hoped it would be enough to surmount any problems in Cambridge. Other than the pain of seeing Maggie injured, the recent months in Indianapolis had been peaceful. He hoped the trend to continue.
“I suppose we need to discuss your duties at Urbana,” Fitcher said. “The Paladin made it very clear that we were to give you every assistance in setting up your lab, so you can continue with your research. We would be honored, however, if you would agree to teach one course each semester.”
Arthur had said nothing to Larry about teaching, although they would be working for a college. Larry shrugged mentally before replying.
“I think I could manage that. What would you have me teach?”
“We badly need someone to teach the introductory physics course at the college. I know that you are probably over-qualified for the class, but we have the need.”
“How many students would be in the class?” Larry asked.
“Typically, we have fifteen to twenty-five students in the class. It tends to vary.”
“If you could get me access to the text for the course, I would appreciate it.”
He thought about some of the classes he had attended when he was an undergraduate and considered what the provost was saying.
“And also,” Larry continued, “if there are more than thirty students, I really will need a teaching assistant. For the grading and such.”
“Oh, we rarely employ TA’s at Urbana. The faculty is quite adept at picking up the load.”
Larry shook his head. “I had a professor, whom I admired, told me that the really effective teachers spend about two hours in preparation for every hour in the classroom. Keeping that in mind, I could easily exceed twenty hours per week on this course. That would really start to eat into my research time.”
Fitcher coughed softly and cleared his throat. The blush on his face told Larry that he had scored in some fashion. He was surprised that the provost had the nerve to play games, considering the obvious importance the Paladin attached to the project.
“You might have a point there,” Fitcher said. “I’m sure we can work something out.”
“What kind of a teaching load do you have in mind for me?” Maggie asked. “I understand I am part of the package.”
“Oh yes, Ms. Bosstic.” Fitcher immediately changed his tone. “We are planning to have you teaching nine hours, plus the Freshman Seminar.”
“And Dr. Fitcher,” Maggie asked in her most winsome way, “how many hours do new faculty normally teach?”
Fitcher blushed again and sputtered. “Well, that depends upon the current needs, and the credentials of the professor in question.”
“How many of the teaching faculty carry this load?” she asked.
“That is not really germane,” Fitcher said. “We negotiate our faculty contracts on an individual basis.”
“So, in other words,” Larry interrupted, “you negotiate whatever the traffic will bear?”
“No, of course not.”
“Maggie gets annoyed when I meddle in her personal business, but you have to consider that she is only recently out of the hospital. I don’t think she has totally adapted to her new circumstances.”
“Nevertheless, I do not like to stray too far afield from the standard contracts,” Fitcher quickly replied.
Larry was thinking hard. “If you could leave the contracts with us, I would like to read them over. Surely that should be acceptable.”
“Oh, very well,” Fitcher snapped, clearly annoyed. “I suppose we could go ahead and have our lunch.”
“I did not mean to disturb you,” Maggie said. “I just want to make sure we’re doing things the right way.”
Fitcher shook his head. “No, I am not upset. We will have a nice lunch and discuss our plans for the next academic year.”
Larry clapped his hands together. “Well, yes. Maggie, are you ready to go?”
“As it happens, yes,” she said.
Larry turned to the provost. “It looks like we’re ready, then.”
“Fine. Then, let’s go.”
CHAPTER FORTY
The wait
er at the hotel restaurant delivered Larry, Maggie, and the provost to their table, and left menus. As they were studying them, Larry looked up to see Arthur Winkleman striding through the restaurant. He pulled out a chair and sat down at their table.
“Uh, Paladin,” Fitcher stammered, “what an unexpected pleasure.”
“When you mentioned having lunch with Lawrence and Margaret, I thought it would be a good opportunity to join you. I am interested in hearing about your plans for the upcoming year for these two.”
“But I had an appointment in your office later this afternoon,” Fitcher said.
Larry decided that Winkleman had a very enigmatic smile, and he was using it to good effect.
“I have given you an opportunity to complete your business early today, Dr. Fitcher,” Winkleman said. “Certainly, you would not have any objection to that.”
“Of course not,” the provost said. “I’m glad you joined us.”
Larry thought that he heard the provost gritting his teeth but wasn’t sure. The waiter slipped in and placed the menu in front of Winkleman, who picked it up and carefully perused it. He looked up and glanced over at Maggie.
“And it is good to see you out and around Ms. Bosstic,” he said. “How is your recovery progressing?”
“Thanks, Arthur. Other than being tied to a set of wheels, I am well.”
“No more pain?”
She shook her head. “The chair gets uncomfortable after a while. I have learned how to flip myself over to the sofa from the chair. That is much nicer. And, thank you, once again, for putting us up here at the hotel. I have a lovely suite.”
He smiled warmly at her. “Let me say, once again, how sorry I am for your accident. I am delighted to see how well you have recovered.”
Maggie tilted her head slightly. “I would much rather have the use of my legs, but I have had time to consider the alternatives. I think I am very lucky. This is a challenge, but I have always liked challenges.”
