by Nancy Adams
CHAPTER SEVEN
It was the night of the exhibition and Claire was sitting a little nervously in the back of a taxi with Annabel Kline on her way to the venue. They’d had something to eat beforehand at a nice little bistro in Manhattan, a family-owned place that Annabel knew of. The meal had been very good, Italian, and the two had drunk a few glasses of wine with their food. The alcohol had loosened Claire up a little and she had been relaxed during the meal. But now that they were coming close to Madison Square Garden, she felt a little giddy.
The moment they turned off of Broadway onto 31st Street, they saw the huge crowds that surrounded the place, people standing along the streets holding placards with messages to Sam, others with messages offering large sums of money for tickets.
“This is crazy,” Claire remarked as she gazed out the window.
“My word it is,” Annabel replied as she stared out the other side of the cab. “They really do love that man, don’t they. Show them someone with money and power and they’ll bow down to them—like King Midas. You know he simply employs very intelligent people to do his bidding? He puts them in a room, tells them what he wants and they do it. There’s no real skill in that. Anyone can tell people to do something.”
“It’s probably a little more complicated than that,” Claire put to her, feeling a need to at least stand up for Sam. “He was a child genius.”
“Yes ‘was’. Now he simply employs an army of other child geniuses to make him lots of money.”
“He’s not all bad. Last year he donated three billion of his own money to various charities.”
“It’s not enough,” Annabel put back, not taking her eyes from the rabble that they drove past. “He’s worth almost a hundred billion dollars. His company is worth vastly more. What do men like that need with all that money?”
“I don’t know,” was all Claire could think of saying in answer.
The two women went quiet for a moment before Claire felt something prompt her into saying, “You know I met him once.”
“You did?” Annabel let out, turning away from the window in surprise.
“Yeah. When I was nineteen, I volunteered at a hospice. His wife, Marya, was brought in.”
“You were at the hospital that Marya Burgess died in?”
“I was. I was even on the very ward.”
“No way? Did you ever get to speak to her?”
“Yeah,” Claire muttered, her eyes going blank.
“You know, I met her too, once. She came to visit Faith about seven years ago. She spoke with every doctor on the wards. Asked them outright what they thought Faith needed to improve itself. She took down the notes of everyone and the next week, we got everything we’d asked for. She even initiated our program for the children of the poor. In the last seven years we’ve given free healthcare to over a thousand children from the poorest families in the district, all on the back of her program. Sam Burgess I couldn’t really care for, but Marya Burgess was a champion of the people.”
Claire had sat in silence the whole time that Annabel had talked. The subject of Marya on the night that she would see Sam in person for the first time in six years had shaken her slightly.
“Are you okay?” Annabel asked, observing that Claire’s face had taken on a sudden sad expression.
“Yes,” Claire replied, feigning a smile. “It was a sad time back then.”
“Of course, how dumb of me. You must have been there when she died.”
“I wasn’t there the day, but I saw it when she lost her senses. It was horrible.”
The two sat in silence for a moment, before Annabel burst out with, “Well, that was a sad story!”
“Yes it was,” Claire replied with a slight grin.
“I promise that I’ll try not to move the conversation toward death for the rest of the evening! Is that a deal?”
“It’s a deal.”
Soon the two had arrived and, after jumping out of the cab, were being ushered through the large crowds into Madison Square Garden. Great laser beams and floodlights spread out of the facade of the huge, round building and upon its domed roof was a giant ‘T7’ sign sticking out like a church’s cross, lit up like a beacon. Thronging everywhere were masses of press, the general public and worshipers. Ticketholders were ushered along through makeshift tunnels that led inside, swaths of security guards everywhere pushing people back behind the barriers.
Having had their tickets checked, Annabel and Claire made it down one of the tunnels that funneled them into the venue. Inside the building they jostled with the crowds as stewards showed everyone to their seats. It was very organized, and not long after entering, Annabel and Claire were sitting in their seats awaiting the beginning of the exhibition, a wave of anticipation traveling around the eager crowd.
The lights went out and Annabel whispered into her ear, “Here goes.”
A wave of tension instantly went through Claire as she waited in the darkness for the first sight of him. She prayed that she didn’t lose it, didn’t go faint or burst into tears, begin having some kind of turn. There was at least a hundred feet between where she was sitting and the stage, and she hoped that it was far enough for Sam not to spot her in the crowd. She dreaded their eyes meeting.
All of a sudden the announcer introduced Sam, and it was then that the spotlight hit him and he strolled onto the stage with a clip-on mic at his mouth. The moment he did, the air in Claire’s lungs appeared to freeze and time slowed to a crawl as her eyes followed his movements across the stage. The sound of the crowd rapturously applauding around her, which should have otherwise been resounding in her ears, was hardly perceptible to Claire then, and she heard almost nothing but a distant din. There, about a hundred feet before her, Sam walked effortlessly across the stage, waving a hand to the crowd, a shining smile upon his lips, his hair perfect, that same handsome face and crystal blue eyes that she had spent so much time idly gazing at during the whole of that fateful month all those years ago. As she sat with her eyes fixed on Sam, Claire felt numb to everything except him. Everything except his presence there within that light.
With a sudden rush, the sound returned to her ears and she was momentarily deafened by it. Time sped up for a second as it caught up with itself and Claire was cast back into the room. The fervor of the crowd slowly died down and Sam began his presentation, a large screen behind him displaying footage of his visions.
As he spoke, Claire felt herself pulled along by his words, the sound of his voice awakening something inside of her. He began speaking about nanotechnology Techsoft had been developing that would revolutionize medical care within three decades. Like some kind of mystic, Sam told of a world where cell-sized robots would be programmed to act as an advanced immune system, farming the body like bees in a hive. They would be able to attack diseases and viruses that the human’s current immune system was unable to either detect or fight. Cancer could be eradicated by nano-bots programmed to destroy the malfunctioning cells that attack the body through tumors. Behind Sam the large screen displayed graphics of how this would look inside the human body—ant-like robots moving along veins and arteries with red blood cells floating around them, latching onto cancerous tissues and destroying them, other graphics of them bridging over damaged areas, helping to repair tissue and becoming temporary tissue while the body healed. Sam went on to explain that they could also be used to fix damaged nerve tissue in the body, including the brain, where they could be used to cure injuries by reconnecting the damaged parts by joining together and making synaptic circuits in the brain. And it didn’t end there. The technology also gifted people with spinal injuries the chance to move again by rejoining and repairing the damaged nerves. Then, if that wasn’t enough, Sam explained another great potential of the nanos—that they could be programmed to merge together to form objects such as working organs, ridding the world of its reliance on dwindling organ donation. The graphic displayed a multitude of nanos coming together to form a human heart. The possibiliti
es were endless, and Claire observed the crowd’s awe-like reaction to Sam as he held the attention of nearly ten thousand people in the palm of his hand, their eyes following his every move upon the stage.
It was then, as he talked to the masses, that Sam suddenly stopped, his words getting caught in his throat. He stumbled slightly and the stage felt oddly small all of a sudden. The crowd began to feel odd as their hero stood in silence, gazing out at something.
Sam couldn’t believe what he was seeing. While he’d been strolling across the stage, he’d glanced nonchalantly out at the crowd and suddenly been caught by a pair of brown eyes staring back at him from among a sea of thousands. The second he’d spotted them, he’d recognized who they belonged to. He would recognize those eyes in a sea of millions, let alone thousands. While Sam stared at her transfixed, the crowd, the stage, the whole building dissolved around him and all that was left was him and Claire, gazing across at each other in a world of pure white.
Claire felt her heart stop the moment their gazes touched from across the room and everything melted away for her too. Some kind of light was opening up between them as they held each other attentively through their eyes, an intimately private moment amongst an ocean of people.
Claire looked away, unable to hold his eyes any longer, and the room came crashing back to them both. The crowd beginning to get restless that Sam had stumbled.
Shaking his head and taking his eyes from Claire, Sam said to the crowd, “Sorry, folks, where were we? Oh, yeah! So with nanos we’ve begun to see great potential in…”
“Who was he staring at?” Annabel whispered to Claire as Sam continued on the stage. “It looked like he was staring over here.”
“I don’t know. I guess he wasn’t staring at anyone in particular,” Claire whispered back, a little shaken at this point, but doing her best not to show it. “He’d probably just forgotten his speech and was trying to remember it.”
Annabel shrugged and went on watching, finding it all very interesting, even if she wasn’t hugely fond of the speaker.
For the rest of the evening their eyes didn’t meet again, Sam avoiding it at all costs. This didn’t mean, however, that both of them weren’t still feeling the effects. Sam struggled to push himself to the end of the presentation, only just managing to do it without any further interruptions. At the same time, Claire felt something growing inside of her, spinning her out of control. What just happened? she asked herself as her head swam in multiple directions. She felt weak and hoped that she would be able to get up out of her seat at the end.
As Sam continued in front of them, Claire kept glancing at Annabel, hoping that she hadn’t noticed anything of her behavior. Thankfully, the doctor had observed nothing and merely continued to watch the show until it ended and they left their seats.
When she stood up, Claire felt her legs wobble a little but managed to control them enough to get her to the aisle where they began filing out with a mass of exhilarated people, all chatting excitedly among themselves, all feeling an inner delight at being shown a glimpse of tomorrow.
“Pretty amazing,” Annabel said as they walked along to the exit.
“I thought you didn’t like Sam Burgess,” Claire said in a slightly trembling voice.
“I don’t. But his cronies have sure done him proud. I mean, if they can achieve what they’re saying, then in twenty or thirty years’ time we’ll see the medicine of today in the same light as we see the practice of witch doctors now. If we can artificially farm the body and build new parts, then so much of the problems we face today in the hospitals will disappear.”
“I think what he’s doing is brilliant,” Claire mumbled blankly, her head still somewhere else.
“What he’s doing!?” Annabel let out. “He’s not a God. And, anyway, even God needs angels. Plus, my big concern is availability. Is this gonna be another invention reserved only for the super rich, while the rest of the world suffers because it’s not exclusive enough?”
“I think it’s safe in Sam’s—”
Claire was stopped when someone stepped across them as they reached the door. It was a woman with assistant written on her t-shirt and a necklace with an ID card dangling on its end. She was holding a clipboard and had a mic and earpiece.
“Hey, guys,” she said in a cheery voice. “Did you have a good evening?”
“Yeah,” Annabel replied with a slight frown, wondering why they’d been stopped.
“Well, that’s good. Basically the reason I’ve stopped you is that you’ve both been invited backstage to be among a small crowd specially selected to see Sam Burgess and some of the other members of Techsoft’s medical team in a room around the back. I just need to confirm your names.”
“We were leaving,” Claire said to the woman.
This made the assistant frown incredulously. It was obviously the first time that anyone had refused to come backstage. People usually reacted with massive enthusiasm. She’d even heard of one person fainting when asked.
Annabel turned to Claire with a smile and said, “Come on. I think it’ll be interesting. We’ve got plenty of time, it’s only seven.”
“Yeah, but I told Paul I’d be back by eight.”
“It is the year 2005, not 1955! He’ll be okay if you’re an hour late. You can call him if you think he’ll worry too much. Come on. It’s not every day you’re invited backstage to see someone as famous as Sam Burgess.”
“I thought you didn’t like him?”
Annabel glanced at the assistant with an embarrassed smile and then, turning back to her young companion, she said, “Come on, Claire. Whatever happens it’ll be something to tell people about afterwards.”
Claire sighed gently and gave a withered smile, before relenting.
Soon they’d confirmed their names and were being ushered down a corridor that led backstage. As she went, Claire felt an anger rise up in her. How dare he? she thought. He should leave me alone. So I came. It means nothing. I had to come. Why has he invited me backstage? What’s he going to do? Is he going to suddenly come over, take me by the hand and then announce that we had an affair six years ago? This is so stupid.
Eventually they reached a large room and went inside. There they found tables of refreshments at the edge and about thirty people who all had eager smiles on their faces, feeling supremely chosen.
“Okay,” a male assistant said as he came in front of them, “if I can just have your attention for a moment.”
Everyone turned to him and silence reigned in the room.
“Okay,” the assistant went on, “now I need to stress that you’ll all get some minutes with Sam to ask him anything you like. However, I ask you to respect everyone else’s chance to speak to Sam, as well as Sam’s personal space.” He smiled slightly here. “I don’t want you all stampeding toward him when he enters, okay? Just simply wait until he approaches you and if he begins talking with someone else, don’t take it personally, just allow that person to talk with Sam and he’ll come to you eventually. Also, we do have three other people that you’ll also be excited to talk to. They are Jim Collins, who’s in charge of technical development at the medical branch of Techsoft, Professor Jean Vincent, who heads the research team, and Carl Bradberry, who heads the nano-development team at Techsoft. So don’t just cluster around Sam, and give the others the respect of your time, like they are with you. Is that understood?”
Everyone muttered that it was, a couple of the people shouting it out enthusiastically, unable to restrain their excitement. While the others all stepped eagerly forward toward the door that Sam would be entering from, waiting in anticipation for it to open, Claire found herself backing off to the edge of the room farthest from it. Like the others, Annabel’s eyes were stuck on the door and she didn’t notice her companion creeping away from her.
Claire took a deep breath in and held it there as the door swung open.
In poured the smiling countenance of Sam Burgess, and as he strolled in, he walked straight i
nto the crowd that had gathered by the door, shaking as many hands as he could, not glancing over at Claire. She, meanwhile, stood in the corner of the room and a strange fear permeated through her at being so close to him. A part of her wanted to dive out of the door and run out of the building, get into a cab and be back in her Brooklyn apartment beside Paul as quickly as she could.
However, there was another voice inside of her. This voice told her not to run. This voice told her to stay and see what idea Sam had in his head when he had invited her backstage. So she merely stood there with two opposing forces working away inside of her, keeping her pressed in the corner while Sam began chatting with people.
Annabel came back over to Claire and said, “Well, let’s allow the fanatics to have a word with him first while we get the best of the refreshments.”
“Sure,” Claire said and the two moved toward the wonderful spread that lay at the edge of the room.
When they reached it, Claire began pouring herself a glass of wine. The first one she chugged down in one go and Annabel cocked an eye at her.
“That’s what I’m talking about,” she remarked. “You wanna pour me one, or were you thinking of downing the whole bottle in one?”
Claire smiled at her and poured them both a glass of white wine. It was then, as she turned around from the table, that she was left breathless.
Standing directly behind her was Sam. Their bodies were within a foot of each other and their eyes became trapped together the moment they met. Sam gave a bright smile and said in a voice that sounded to Claire as though it was coming from some distant place, “Hi. We haven’t been introduced.”
Claire felt weak and she stood gazing at him for some time unsure what to say or two. She slowly looked down between them and saw that Sam had his hand outstretched. She gingerly took the hand and a light exploded inside of her. While she held it, he pressed something into her palm.
“You’re name?” Sam asked with a smile, the rest of the people around them giggling at the young woman who was so nervous to meet Sam Burgess she’d lost her voice.
