Rocket! An Ell Donsaii story 4 Page 2

  A stunned silence greeted this announcement. Chancellor Kellet said, “My goodness, that’s wonderful. May we know the name of the donor?”

  She shook her head. “I am meeting with you because there are a few strings attached.” She grinned at the Chair of the Physics Department as she said, “Fifty percent of this money is to be spent on Physics, from buildings, to research, to hiring faculty, to special physics scholarships. Essentially, in-state students admitted to the Physics program are all to be able to attend UNC tuition free and out of state Physics students are to have very low tuition. This funding for faculty and research should enable you to make this one of the best, if not the very best Physics program in the country. One page summaries of physics research projects to be funded must be submitted to the donor for approval. Some recipients of the Physics scholarship slots might be specified by the donor. Finally, the donor wishes to remain anonymous. This last is very important—so important that attempts to determine who the donor is may result in a loss of this funding.”

  They all stared at her in consternation. Finally the Chancellor said, “Um, we’ll just have the University’s attorneys write up an agreement…”

  He paused at a minute shake of Ell’s head. She said, “You can readily access your AI’s (Artificial Intelligence’s) audio record of what I just specified. You will find that the first 115 million has been deposited anonymously into your public account in the past few minutes. I have ported you the website where Physics research proposals can be posted for approval.” She looked at the Physics Chair, You might warn your faculty that they won’t be funded they aren’t enthusiastically teaching their undergrad and grad students. Otherwise, there need not be any interaction between the University and the donor. The money will continue to arrive as long as the donor is satisfied that you are fulfilling the spirit, not just the letter of what I’ve laid out for you. No need for an agreement. Thank you for your attention.” Before anyone in the stunned room got enough of a grip to say anything she had slipped out the door.

  ***

  Washington D.C.— Today the White House announced negotiations intended to reduce the disruption of the communication industry that has been caused by the quantum entangled chips introduced by PGR Comm. The stock markets have reacted violently as the capabilities of the new chips have become evident and this unrest…

  Dave Slager looked around as a loud “bang” sounded behind him and a tremor ran through the Space Station. Slager closed his eyes. It was a micrometeorite strike. Sounded like a pretty big one. The station was “armored” with Kevlar padding to protect against strikes but the sound of this one had been different, as if it hit something that wasn’t armored?

  Jim Sasson yelled, “I think it hit the CRV!”

  Slager grimaced. Sasson was more excitable than the typical astronaut but everyone cut him some slack because he was such a genius. However, yelling that the meteorite had hit the Crew Return Vehicle which was intended to evacuate the space station scientists in case of an emergency? That seemed akin to yelling “fire” in a theater to Slager. Unfortunately, the CRV was one part of the Station that wasn’t covered in Kevlar, so Sasson may well be right.

  About thirty minutes later Emil Taussan pulled himself into Slager’s area.

  Slager looked at him with raised eyebrows.

  Taussan shook his head, “I’ve inspected the interior of the CRV and it seems fine. No atmosphere leak. But I think Sasson’s right so I will suit up for an EVA (Extra Vehicular Activity or “spacewalk”) and inspect the exterior.”

  Slager shrugged his shoulders, “OK, better safe than sorry.” He turned back to his work.

  ***

  Washington D.C.—NASA announced today that a meteorite strike had damaged the rocket nozzle of the Crew Return Vehicle which serves as an “escape pod” for the International Space Station in case of emergency. NASA said they expected to be able to send up a replacement nozzle on the next supply ship. Apparently they believe that the nozzle can be replaced by an EVA mission.

  Mary and Ell strolled together across the campus of NCSU in Raleigh. Steve prowled about a hundred feet in front of them. As head of Ell’s security detail, Steve had agreed that having her walk with Mary made her look more like the other students and so was good “coloration.” He himself was “pretending” to be a grad student crossing campus on a similar course.

  Ell nudged Mary, “Steve doesn’t do ‘oblivious grad student’ very well does he? He looks more like a panther searching for its next meal.”

  Mary stifled a laugh, “It is difficult to make six foot two inches of solid muscle look like it spends most of its time musing in the library.”

  Ell snickered, “I swear I can see the ghost of his old M-25 in his hands!” She paused, “Well, this is the Physics building. You guys could have some coffee in the little shop over there while I’m upstairs.”

  Roger Emmerit fidgeted and slid a finger under the collar of his shirt. He seldom wore a tie and it was driving him crazy. Of course, his nerves might also have something to do with the fact that he was about to defend his thesis for his PhD.

  Dr. Johnson and the other two professors on his committee had arrived and seated themselves in the front row of the small conference room. Dr. Johnson had insisted that he redo his experiments repeatedly when they failed to support classical theories in Physics. Then Roger had had to repeat and modify his experiments many more times, once he’d demonstrated that the results he was getting were compatible with the new math conventions and theories that Donsaii had published in Nature. For a while Roger had wondered whether Dr. Johnson would ever allow him to defend his thesis but as experiment after experiment agreed with Donsaii and failed to meet the predictions of classical theory Johnson had finally relented.

  Several other people had gradually filtered in and seated themselves in the audience. More than he had expected. They registered mostly as blurs to Roger, though he assumed that some of his grad student friends were there. Johnson said, “Let’s get this show on the road.”

  Roger turned to the big screen at the front of the room. He began to speak as his first images appeared on the screen. Forty minutes later by the clock and forever by his internal time sense he finished his presentation and asked for questions. An initial barrage of questions flowed over him. Some other faculty had shown up, having heard of Roger’s surprising results and their questions reflected their dubiousness regarding his results, or at least regarding his interpretation. Here Professor Johnson’s earlier attacks served him well, because he’d already heard all of their objections from Johnson and had done the experiments to show that their contentions were incorrect. The questions slowed and eventually trickled to a stop. Finally his committee asked that the room be cleared for their deliberations. Roger stepped outside with everyone else and his friends clustered around to shake his hand and wish him well.

  Al and James promised to buy him a beer at West 87 no matter the results. Emma gave him a hug and whispered fiercely, “They’d better give you a pass.”

  Jerry gave him a “bro” hug with a slap on the back and said, “Good luck. We Alpha Centaurians are on your side.” Everyone chuckled at Jerry’s old joke.

  Roger looked around. A couple of more distant friends spoke among themselves. Suddenly he recognized a familiar posture in the slender girl leaning up against the wall with her hoodie up and hiding her face. “Ell?”

  She turned and grinned at him as everyone else standing in the hall turned to stare. She pulled her hoodie back exposing her short reddish blond hair and crossed the distance to him in three strides, throwing her arms around him and hugging him fiercely.

  Hugging her back Roger said, “Damn, girl! Why didn’t you say something?”

  She drew back and raised an eyebrow, “Didn’t want to throw you off—or make the professors think I was trying to influence your findings as they regarded my theory.”

  The door opened behind Roger. Professor Johnson leaned out, “Roger?” He mo
tioned him back in. Suddenly Johnson’s eyes lit on Ell. He turned back to the room behind him and said, “I’ll be just a moment.” Then he stepped out into the hall and said, “Ms. Donsaii, a word please?”

  Ell, dreading the possibility that Johnson would be confrontational again, stepped down the hall with him.

  He said, “I would like to thank you very much, not just for funding my research application. Though, I’ll admit that your prompt authorization of the funding for my project surprised me no end. But, what I really want to thank you for is the audio-video record you forwarded of our interactions. I’m embarrassed to say that I had no idea just how obnoxious I can be until I watched your video of myself being an ass from the perspective of the person I was treating so poorly. Old habits are very hard to break but I am making a sincere effort.”

  Ell’s eyebrows rose, “I am so happy to hear that Dr. Johnson!”

  He said, “I have to get back in there with Roger’s doctoral committee but I hope you’ll have a drink with us at the traditional West 87 celebration?”

  “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

  West 87 was crowded with well wishers. James held up his glass, “To Doctor Emmerit!”

  A chorus of “Hear, hear,” resounded.

  Johnson said, “I’ll buy one more round for you hooligans, then Dr. Emmerit and I are going to take on all comers at the pool table.”

  James chortled, “Oh, you’re going down tonight Professor. Ell, will you be my partner again?”

  Laughing, Ell shook her head vigorously.

  Once more drinks had been delivered James turned to Ell again. “Come on. You know the Professor just thinks it was luck that let us beat them last time. We’ve got to take them on again and show them the error of their ways!”

  Ell raised her eyebrows, “It was luck!”

  “No way!” James grabbed her elbow and tugged her toward the tables where Roger and Dr. Johnson were racking the balls.

  Ell dragged her feet, protesting feebly but then Emma said, “Come on Ell. Show us what you can do at pool like you did at foosball.”

  This urging reminded Ell how she had regretted playing “full on” at foosball the year before. Her athletic abilities had stunned the group but left her feeling embarrassed to be known as someone with bizarre abilities. She turned to Emma and whispered, “No! There are too many people watching! I don’t want strangers thinking I’m some kind of freak! Help me get out of this?”

  Emma looked into Ell’s eyes a moment, seeing the anxiety there and then said, “Sorry James, Ell and I need to have a little ‘girl talk.’ Jerry, you play as James’ partner.” She assertively led Ell back to the booth despite some lingering protests.

  Once they were seated Emma said, “So, if I’m going to protect you here, you’re going to have to spill the beans. What’s going on between you and Roger?”

  Ell shrugged, “We’re just good friends.”

  Emma’s eyes widened, “Hah. ‘Just good friends’ don’t submit a paper to the APS simply in hopes they can visit their ‘friend’ in Las Vegas.”

  Ell tilted her head, “Really good friends?”

  Emma snorted, “I should say. You gonna make an honest man out of him?”

  Ell rolled her eyes, “He’d need to participate in that you know. Besides, remember I’m only nineteen? You might find it hard to believe but Roger’s the first boy I ever kissed. I probably should see a little more of the world before I settle down don’t you think?”

  In shock Emma said, “Your first kiss! Age eighteen! You’ve got to be kidding!”

  Ell stared at her hands, “I’m a late bloomer?”

  Emma grinned at her. “So you’re gonna play the field first?!”

  Ell shrugged and looked embarrassed, “Maybe? I don’t know. I like Roger a lot.”

  When almost all his well wishers had left West 87 Roger turned to Ell, James and Jerry, saying, “I’m done in and heading to the barn. See you guys next week.”

  Ell said, “I’ll walk you home. You’ll be needing some protection from the ‘Rigellians.” She winked at Jerry.

  Jerry put a hand over his heart, “But then who’ll protect me?”

  Ell raised her eyebrows, “Surely you jest! Everyone knows that Rigellians don’t like the taste of Alpha Centaurians! You’re perfectly safe.”

  As they walked Ell was happy to find her hand in Roger’s again. “So, what are you gonna do with that shiny new doctorate?”

  Roger shrugged, “I really don’t know. I want to do research. Sometimes I think I’d like to work for industry but I’m afraid of being told to work on some problem I’m not interested in. I’m thinking I’ll have to stay in academics, do a post-doc or something, then join the ranks of the professors. Right now I’m planning to spend some time looking around at what’s available since I’ve got the PhD pretty much wrapped up. Maybe the perfect job will find me?”

  “What do you want to study in your research?”

  “Hmmm, I’m kinda interested in a crazy new theory by this chick named Donsaii. Maybe you’ve heard of her?”

  Ell grinned up at him and punched him lightly on the shoulder.

  Roger said, “This is my place. I’d love to have you come in as long as you promise to behave yourself? No taking advantage of my drink addled state?”

  Ell stopped, and when he stopped too she put her arms around him for a hug. “Maybe you shouldn’t invite me in then. Who knows what I’ll be tempted to do with you in such a pliable condition? I probably wouldn’t be able to leave without some kisses...” She leaned her head back and smiled up at him again.

  He shrugged, “OK, I guess I could part with a few of those.” He grinned back and turned to open the door…

  Chapter Two

  Cape Canaveral.—Today’s launch of ILX Corporation’s Vulcan 5 rocket ended in failure when the rocket failed to stay on course and had to be destroyed. This is the second failure of the new Vulcan 5 launch vehicle that was expected to take over the supply of the aging International Space Station. More concerning is the fact that this launch was carrying the replacement rocket nozzle for the Space Station’s Crew Recovery Vehicle. The CRV’s nozzle had recently been destroyed by a micro meteorite, leaving the astronauts without a means to escape in case of an emergency. NASA director James Epaulding described this as one of a “perfect storm” of problems for the Station but said that they fully expect to solve these problems…

  Ann Tandy parked her car so that the Century 21 Commercial Real Estate decal on its door would be obvious to anyone entering the empty parking lot. She walked over to the door of the closed QemZ research facility and checked to be sure that the digital key her AI’d downloaded would in fact open the door. She stepped inside, Good, the heat is on. She’d sent Jake out to warm up the building and check for any other problems that morning and Jake rarely failed to perform—but she always worried. She flipped on the lights and looked around. Good, looks clean. She walked down a hallway looking into the various offices and cubicles.

  Ann checked the research/production area which consisted mostly of a huge empty space with a number of big chemical tanks and some industrial sized stainless steel tables. Satisfied, she walked back outside to wait for the prospective buyer. She’d been communicating with this “Raquel Blandon” for several days now. Blandon had been very reserved about who or what company she represented which made Ann nervous. She sounded kind of young and Ann had had the unsettling thought that she might be being “pranked.” Blandon had specified a facility in the Research Triangle Park near Chapel Hill with some large “industrial” rooms and a total of 10-20,000 square feet. Even with those broad specifications this QemZ facility was the only available place that really came close. Ann hoped it would meet their needs; she could really use a commission about now.

  A car pulled into the lot and parked near Ann’s. A young brunette woman got out and began walking towards her. Ann’s heart sank. She was just a girl! Then to Ann’s immense relief another car p
ulled in and parked a few spaces away from the first car. Hopefully these would be the real buyers?

  “Ms. Tandy?” The young woman said, putting out her hand to shake, “I’m Raquel Blandon.” Because Ann had her attention focused on the other car Blandon looked back over her shoulder at it. Three men had gotten out of the vehicle, but the men just started walking off around the far corner of the building. “Uh, the guys’ll just walk around the outside.” Blandon said.

  Ann’s shoulders sagged. “You’re the one interested in this building?” she said dubiously.

  Blandon grinned at her and said, “Yep. I’m guessing you’re worried that I’m too young?”

  Ann raised her eyebrows and said, “This facility is listing for 3.7 million dollars.”

  Blandon nodded enigmatically and said, “I know. Shall we look around?”

  Trying to avoid gnashing her teeth, Ann dispiritedly said, “Sure,” and opened the door.

  To Ann’s surprise the girl spent only a few minutes in the office space, giving it at best a cursory examination. But she went over the industrial space with a fine-toothed comb. She examined each of the vats, looking at their outsides and then peering at their insides with a flashlight. She went outside and scrutinized each of the huge insulated liquid and gas storage tanks in the fenced in enclosure out back. Back inside she carefully looked over the industrial stainless steel tables and cabinets. She spent 20 minutes in the “machine shop,” exclaiming over and turning on and off every one of the large machines, including some that apparently communicated with the young lady’s AI once they had been powered up.

  As she left the machine shop Blandon said, “We’ll offer 3.4 million. Please let me know if the sellers are agreeable?”

  “What! Wait! Who do you represent? I’ll have to assure the buyers that you can actually finance the purchase.”