by Jim Lombardo
Monica decided to get up and make sure everything was alright. She stretched, rolled out of bed, wriggled into her slippers, and put on a robe. Stepping into the still-dark kitchen, she padded toward the archway leading into the dining room where she stopped. Looking beyond the dining room into the living room, she saw Hannah kneeling at the base of the front bay window, peering out with her chin resting on the base of a two-foot-high wooden sill. Monica could see through the window that the sun had just risen over the horizon, and from her perspective the globe appeared to be slowly rising over the top of the child’s head. Puffy cumulus clouds were partially obscuring the sun, spawning immense, sacred-looking sunbeams. The shafts of light fanned outward as if radiating from Hannah’s head. Monica stood in silence watching this spectacle unfold until the hardwood floor creaked beneath her feet, betraying her presence.
“Mommy?” said Hannah without turning her face from the window.
“Hi, daughter. Watcha doin’?”
“Just looking. Come over.”
“That’s really pretty,” Monica said, kneeling beside her.
The sound of screeching tires, and a rancorous honk from the road below startled Hannah, and she drew her shoulders up reactively. She turned to look at her mother.
“Something scared me last night, Mommy.”
“What?”
“A song.”
“A song scared you? What song?”
“It’s called, ‘I want you, she’s so heavy,’ by the Beatles. You know that one?”
“Not sure, maybe if I listened to it.”
“It’s one of their last songs, but I didn’t like the ending. It scared me.”
“Why?”
“Well, the last few minutes has this repeating progression of chords that’s so compelling and overwhelming, it’s almost too much to take in, but then all of a sudden, without any warning, poof! The song just ends — abruptly — like someone accidentally kicked a plug out of the wall. So it goes from this spectacular peak to dead silence in an instant. It shocked me.”
“I’m sorry, honey. That’s art, I guess. It’s not always pleasant for one reason or another.”
“I know, but it got me thinking, and worrying.”
“Worrying about what exactly?”
“About something suddenly going wrong with it all, just like that song.”
“What do you mean?”
“Like, what if there was a surprise ending to the world, to everything.”
“You mean like, World War III breaking out?”
“No, I mean maybe I should be afraid of that, but that’s something people work on every day to prevent, and I presume they know what they’re doing. I’m concerned about something happening that we don’t have any control over, that we don’t understand at all. I see nature putting on this fabulous musical, but we don’t get to write the storyline. It’s like we’re sitting in the audience waiting for the curtains to open during intermission, and we don’t know what’s going to happen next. So what if without any warning the plot were to turn into another Pompeii, only a kazillion times worse? You don’t feel like a sitting duck, Mommy?”
“Honestly, right now, I feel more like a sleepy duck.”
Hannah chuckled politely. “Then there’s another curtain at the rear of the stage, behind which is something that transcends everything. Even the actors don’t know what’s in back of that.”
She gazed out at the sun again. “I was also thinking there’s a lot of good out there, but it seems like people are so preoccupied with differences, and disagreements. Even me sometimes. Every time I play through my life, I see myself wasting tons of mental energy on selfish thoughts and useless emotions. I wish everyone realized that we’re all connected, so that if we ever needed to join hands to face down a random Pompeii that nature cooked up, we’d be able to do that, and keep the music playing. “We’re all one family, Mommy. Not everyone thinks about that, but it’s true,” Hannah said. “You know when there’s a grand opening, or some big splashy event happening, and they have those huge spotlights shining out into the darkness, so that everyone will flock there? It’s like the sun is doing that right now. Look how bright, and how precisely straight those rays are.” Hannah’s brow crinkled as she thought as hard as she possibly could. “How...how can this not be a message?” She thought about the symmetrical lines painted on the road, and how very early in life she had presumed that things so perfect must have been designed for a special purpose. “It’s a beacon,” she whispered assuredly.
Another car horn blared below in successive honks. This was answered by a different car horn, the sound waves lingering, but pitching downward with the Doppler effect as the car sped away.
“Think they’ll ever learn, Mommy?”
Monica rested her hand on her daughter’s delicate shoulder. “I don’t know, sweetie. Maybe someday you’ll teach them.”
Hannah smiled bravely.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Genius Camp
(3.25 years old)
“Mommy, please, let me go. Please, let me go!” Hannah cried. “At least look at the website.”
“I don’t know. Maybe when your daddy gets back from fishing we can talk about it.”
At the knee-high computer desk, Hannah rotated her miniature swivel chair back towards the PC and continued surfing.
“Ohhh, it would be so great,” she pined. “Look at the pictures from last year’s camp. I could make a whole bunch of friends this summer.”
Hannah had just received a formal invitation from the Pearson-Adams Department of Child Study and Human Development at the University of Bridgeport, in Connecticut, about a three-hour drive south of the Blakes’ home. She was being offered an opportunity to join a select group of intellectually gifted youngsters from around the world in a week-long, camp-style research study sponsored by a federal National Science Foundation grant. The department was affiliated with the Pearson-Adams Children’s School, which provided early learning to preschoolers, while also serving as an observation and training lab for teachers, and a research facility for the university faculty.
The invitation arrived shortly after the latest “The Hannah Herald” column had revealed the results of her first I.Q. test. The outcome was difficult to quantify as far as a numerical score. Hannah had gotten only one question wrong, which she had disputed. Her challenge would lead the creators of the popular standardized test to remove the question from the test. She argued there was ambiguity present that allowed for two choices to be correct. Though the child was certain of the answer that would be considered right, she chose the other selection just to make her point. Since she had gotten every question right after that issue was resolved, it was clear that she needed to be given the highest possible I.Q. score. But since a person’s I.Q. is merely a statistical representation of how they scored on the standard test relative to other people, the number has to have a ceiling for it to be mathematically reasonable. Simply put, a person cannot have a score that indicates they outperformed more people than are on the planet Earth. Hannah was thus given a rounded score of 200, considered the outer edge of measurable human genius.
“Daddy’s home!”
“What? He’s not coming home until tomorrow night.”
“He’s the only one that swerves into the driveway, and I distinctly heard a swerve.”
Monica raced to the kitchen window to see Brian’s Ford Ranger Pickup rolling in. “No way. No way,” she said, her worries instantly shifting to relief. “Thank God you’re safe, baby.”
The two bounded down the back stairs to greet Brian who was busy collecting fishing gear and a bag of laundry from his trunk. He had been away five days hunting Bluefin tuna far out on Georges Bank.
After their reunion, he triumphantly strode through the kitchen door. “I missed you guys so much. Couldn’t wait to surprise you.”
“We missed you too, Brian. Just toss the laundry on the washer. How’d you do out there?”
“Awesome. The first two days were zippo. We reeled in two dinks, just under 70 inches, so we had to let ’em go. But then we hauled in a huge slob, 763 pounds, took six hours to get in the boat. We got worked. Then, like an hour later, we were on again. It was crazy. The second one was only 406, but paid $20 per pound. The big one was $12 per pound, so it was $17,300 in all. Skip wanted to get ’em to the dock quick, so we iced ’em and headed in.”
Hannah instantaneously reviewed the math in her mind. The exact result was $17,276, but that was close enough, because Brian was obviously rounding.
“What’d Skip pay you?” Monica asked.
“I got two grand. I’ll take it. But I’m telling ya, Monica, I should own my own boat. I did half the chumming, and more than half of the rod. And Skip’s barking at me like a drill sergeant. I can’t take it. Worst part, though, is I missed my little smartypants.” Brian scooped Hannah up and raised her high into the air as she squealed with laughter. “I got a big one here. Nope, too dinky…gotta put her back.” Brian pretended he was going to heave her overboard out the kitchen window, then safely reeled her in. “How’d you make out without your daddy?”
“Great. I’m going to camp.”
“Hey, hey, Hannah,” Monica chided. “I said we’d talk about it. Let’s let Daddy settle in first.”
The family made their way into the living room and sat down on the sofa together. Brian relished flopping deeply into the plush cushions. “Oh, yeah, now I’m officially back. So, what’s the camp thing?”
“I’ve been invited to a camp for child geniuses in Connecticut for a whole week. Judy thinks it’s an awesome idea. I can be with kids who are just like me.”
“It’s a research study at University of Bridgeport, Brian,” Monica said. “A live-in research study. The invitation says that parents are welcome to an introduction and orientation session the first morning of the program, and then a farewell pizza party on the last day, a full week later.”
“Hmmm. What are they gonna do exactly?”
Monica picked the letter up that Hannah had strategically positioned on the coffee table in front of them. “Okay, it’s to…‘research the social development and behavior of gifted children with the objective of discovering applications to promote human emotional and social well-being.’ But, get this, Brian…‘to ensure research results are not compromised, parents are politely asked to refrain from visiting during the week, and to keep social contact with their child to one phone call each evening.’”
“Because they aren’t studying the parents, Mommy. They’re studying us. And I noticed there’s no time limit on those calls, so we can talk for hours every night. More than we even do now.”
“But...you’re three years old. A whole week? You wouldn’t miss me?”
“Of course. I’ll miss both you and Daddy. But I want to see what happens. My whole life, I’ve never had a chance to live away and hang out with other kids. Plus I’ll get a chance to help other people.”
“But, like...where would you stay, Hannah? Who’d be taking care of you?” Brian asked.
“We’ll stay in one of the dorms that the college students use during the academic year. They’re away for the summer. There’ll be two adult chaperones sharing responsibility for each child when we’re not in testing. One will be a registered nurse. Come check out the website they sent me. It explains everything—eating, sleeping, grooming, even going to the bathroom!” Brian stole a disconcerting glance over to Monica. The relief of getting home had been short-lived.
“Hannah, I know you’re stoked, but honestly, I don’t know if your mother and I are ready for this.”
“But I am ready, Daddy. I really want to go. What are you afraid of exactly?” she asked as she began to lower the boom of persuasive savvy.
“Well, I guess we’re afraid of you getting hurt, or something bad happening to you. We want to watch over you all the time.”
“That’s how I feel when you go fishing. I know that it’s dangerous, and something bad could happen to you, but I don’t try to stop you.”
“But it’s different. I have people to take care of. People are depending on me. I have to go.”
“Mommy, can you read the goal of the research study again?”
Monica picked up the letter again and read, “To research the social development and behavior of gifted children with the objective of discovering applications to promote human emotional and social well-being.”
“Can you just read that last part again, beginning with ‘the objective’?”
“The objective of discovering applications to promote human emotional and social well-being.”
Hannah addressed her father with reassurance and resolve. “You see, Daddy, I also have people to take care of. People are depending on me. I have to go too.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Robin
“May I have everyone’s attention? Everyone, may I have your attention, please?”
The buzzing in the room gradually subsided. Parents and their children sat in the first two rows of an amphitheater-style lecture room eyeballing each other, while research faculty and administrators working on the grant sat facing them on folding chairs. They were positioned close to their guests to create a casual and welcoming atmosphere. Assigned nurses and other chaperones sat behind the families. They had already been introduced to each other in individual meet-and-greet sessions on campus the previous week.
Hannah fidgeted excitedly on a spring-loaded seat cushion, with barely enough weight to keep it from flipping up. She was annoyed by the seat, but far more annoyed that she had been unable to figure out exactly what caused gravity. She had read that mass somehow caused a distortion in space in a dimension that was inconceivable to the human brain, and gravity was the result. A distortion in space? Hannah had been considering that for a long time. For now, she would have to accept the reality that the springs pulling upward on the seat cushion were a stronger force than the attractional force between the planet Earth and her body.
“Thank you and hello! My name is Dr. Julia Burstein, and the first thing I would like to say is how delighted and grateful we all are that you’re finally here.” Julia held a doctoral degree in psychology and was the Principal Investigator on the grant. She realized the importance of creating a positive first impression, trying to suppress the thought that her career hinged on the success of this project. “Before we have the children introduce themselves, does anyone want to tell me why you think you’re here?”
“Oooh-ooh-oooh,” pleaded a frail boy with thick glasses sitting at one side of the theater, straining to raise his hand as far as he could. “Ooooh-ooooooooh!” he cried again, begging to be called on.
“Yes, Adam.”
“We’re here because we’re the smartest kids in the world.”
“You’re right about that. Anyone else?”
A girl, with a violin case at her side, raised her hand meekly while her parents looked on proudly. She had long black hair braided neatly down her back and sat with a posture so dignified that it appeared trained. “We are here so you can learn from us. We have special gifts to share with the world.”
“That’s true, Grace. Does anyone else want to tell us why we invited you here?”
A chubby boy named Robin was sitting next to the Blakes. He was clutching a massively thick and well-worn binder with tattered papers sticking out from all sides. “My parents made me come here,” he blurted out loudly. The room burst into laughter, but the boy simply lowered his head sheepishly.
“Anyone else?”
Hannah raised her slender arm and was called on. She spoke in a slow and measured way, making eye contact with the other attendees while she spoke. “Hello, Doctor. Thank you. I believe we are here because there are many p
eople in the world who are troubled due to the way they think, their mental perceptions, the way they use their minds. We are among the smartest kids in the world, yes, but it is also our youth that is key to finding ways to help others, because at this stage in our lives our brains haven’t been clouded by too many years of social conditioning. In other words, our minds are as pure as they can be, while at the same time they are mature enough to provide you with research data. So we’re in a unique position to help improve people’s lives. With your guidance, we will all try to do just that.”
The researchers and staff seemed pleased, and nodded approvingly at Hannah. “Excellent. And with that let’s each introduce ourselves, and perhaps, kids, you can tell us, or even show us, some of your special abilities that helped us to find you.”
A total of eight children were participating in the study. The goal had been to create as much diversity as possible amongst them. The child geniuses were culled through a variety of means, and from around the globe. Though due to budget constraints and other practical considerations, such as time zone issues and language barriers, only two were chosen from outside of the United States.
Adam was nine years old, and had already broken 11 Rubik’s Cube world records in tournaments sanctioned by the World Cube Association for his under-10-year-old age group. Amazingly, he could solve the original standard 3x3x3 Rubik’s Cube in under 12 seconds on average, with a personal best of 8.38 in tournament competition. He held the current world records for his age with the 4x4x4, and even the 5x5x5 cube, which he could solve in under 2 minutes. He had also competed, and was amongst the fastest in the world at any age, for solving the cube one-handed. Over the previous year he had mastered blindfold cubing of the 3x3x3 for competition. In one such event Adam was able to memorize a scrambled cube, be blindfolded, and then solve the cube, with a combined time of under one minute.