by Stan Mason
‘But what can I say to a woman if I did know about those subjects? All I’d be telling them is bits of history, art and authors.’
‘That’s just the start of it. It’s my role to fill in all those spaces so that you can think of things to say. Eventually, when your mind has absorbed a mass of information, I shall give you anecdotes you can use to charm women,. Then you will always know what to say to them, You’ll be able to stimulate their minds... but first things first!’
‘That part about the anecdotes is what I need to know,’ exclaimed the scientist with vigour.
‘All in good time, Mr. Wise. ‘Let’s start with history. Henry the Eighth is a good beginning. He had six wives and he was responsible for changing the religious nature of England, fighting Catholicism in favour of the Anglican Church. He came into conflict with the Pope when he tried to divorce his first wife Catherine of Aragon. She had been the wife of his brother Arthur who died. The rule in those days was that a single brother had to marry his brother’s widow. She was a devout Catholic which didn’t suit Henry at all. His second wife, Anne Boleyn bore him Elizabeth the First, a great queen who reigned for many years. He had Anne Boleyn beheaded on the grounds of infidelity but that’s another story.’
Don listened with an open mind. When he had been a pupil at school, such matters were of little interest to him. He simply doodled with scientific formulae on a sheet of paper in front of him or drew images of machines and accessories used in physics and science. He became totally deaf to all that the teachers were teaching in the class. Ultimately, his scores in examinations at the end of each term indicated very high marks in physics, science and chemistry but exceeding low in all the other subjects. However, now, as a latent developer, he was all ears. Everything that Griffiths told him seemed to be of interest. Perhaps it was the way that the teacher taught the subjects or the fact that it was a one-on-one teaching arrangement and therefore he was forced to listen. Whatever the reason, he found the information concise and informative,
An hour later, with his head ringing with historical details, Don sat back in his chair as the teacher stopped speaking.
‘I think that’s enough for today,’ he said. ‘I’ll always finish with an anecdote. Each time it’ll begin with the words: “Did you hear the one about... ” That always identifies it as a joke. Did you hear the one about the two lovers on lover’s leap? The man said: ‘Oh Maria, I love you, I adore you, I worship you!’ She turned to him sternly and said: ‘That’s the trouble with you, Roger. It’s always I... I... I!’’ Griffiths smiled to himself with amusement even though he had told the joke many times before but the scientist failed to laugh. ‘Don’t tell me I have to teach you about humour,’ continued the teacher tiredly.
‘I think that’s part of the problem,’ returned the other man.
‘You can say that again,’ uttered Griffiths grimly.
‘I think it’s part of the problem’ repeated the scientist unwittingly.
The teacher shook his head sadly. He suddenly realised that he was faced with a monumental task which he hadn’t anticipated. There could be few people so brilliant at physics and science yet so wanting on any other subject. It was as though he was facing Mount Everest from the base camp... and that was the truth!
***
In the testing area of Universal Energy, Tom Farrow and Joe Collinge began the operation relating to try to prove that the hydrogenetics theory actually worked. They pondered over the formula and read the accompanying notes a number of times to make certain they understood exactly the nature of the theory put forward by Robert Harris. However, they found it to be extremely complicated... anything but straight forward and they were somewhat puzzled by the application. They had prepared an engineering unit in advance to establish the theory in principle which had all the necessary accessories to prove whether or not the system worked. From the start, all the indications seemed to be flawed and any hope that the theory or the testing would work appeared to be very remote. Even before they started to try to develop the idea, they pondered deeply overthe formula and then discussed the issue in depth.
‘Let’s look at it more closely,’ began Farrow seriously. ‘There exists two different spin isonomers of hydrogen diometric molecules that differ in the spin of their nuclei. In the orthohydrogen form, the spins of the two protons are parallel and form a triplet state with a molecular spin quantum number of one. In the parahydrogen form, the spins are anti-parallel and form a singlet with a molecular spin quantum number of zero.’
Collinge nodded in agreement and then went on to add: ‘Remember, the equilibrium ratio of othohydrogen to parahydrogen depends on temperature because the othohydrogen forms an ‘excited state’ and has a higher energy than the parahydrogen form. It’s unstable and can’t be purified.’
‘But at a very low temperature, the equilibrium state is composed almost entirely of the parahydrogen form,’ continued Farrow.
‘Okay,’ stated Collinge. ‘I understand in principle what Harris was getting at. I don’t know if it’ll work. Maybe we should have a word with him before we try again.’
‘Fine,’ returned Farrow quickly. ‘Let’s go and find him!’
They left the building and found their way to the brainstorming unit where Anya was seated at the computer. When they entered they stared at her in disbelief for she was wearing a mask to cover her face.
‘Wow!’ uttered Farrow in shock. ‘What the hell happened to you?’
Anya looked at the two men with concern. ‘Who are you?’ she asked bluntly.
‘I’m Tom Farrow,’ said the first man.
‘I’m Joe Collinge,’ replied the second man. ‘We work in the testing unit.’
‘Which testing unit?’ she demanded suspiciously.
‘For Universal Energy,’ retorted Farrow, tiring of the questioning. ‘We’re here to see Robert Harris.’
‘I’m sorry but you won’t be able to do that,’ she told them point-blank.
‘Why not?’ demanded Collinge smartly, refusing to be denied.
‘Robert Harris is dead,’ continued Anya bluntly. ‘They fished his body out of the river about a week ago. I took his place here. Why did you want to see him?’
‘Who’s in charge here?’ enquired Collinge becoming equally fed up with her questions. ‘We need to see him.’
‘David Coleman was in charge but he left very suddenly. No one’s been appointed to replace him.’
‘Is there anyone else who worked with Mr. Harris in this unit?’
‘Yes... there’s Mr. Wise but he’s not here at the moment. Is it possible I can help you?’
The fact that they could not see her face irritated both men. As far as they were concerned, it was like talking to a brick wall and receiving answers.
‘What do you know about the hydrogenetics project?’ asked Farrow curtly.
‘Nothing at all,’ she replied candidly. ‘As I told you, I replaced Mr. Harris only a few days ago.’
The two men glanced at each other and grimaced. This was clearly not going to be an easy task.
‘We’re about to test the theory of hydrogenetics at base level but before we start the process of heating there are a few things we need to know about the theory,’ commented Collinge hoping to get a reasonable response.
‘I can’t help you on that but Mr. Wise should be here very shortly, if you’d like to wait. I’m sure he’ll know all about it. I mean he worked alongside Mr. Harris. Why don’t you both take a seat?’
They considered the problem for a few moments and then decided to stay, sitting down opposite her.
‘How come you’re wearing a mask,’ asked Collinge out of curiosity.
‘I was involved in a car crash,’ she told him frankly. ‘I went through the windscreen and my face was cut to pieces.’
‘Ouch!’ muttered F
arrow as though feeling the pain at that very moment. ‘It must have been some crash for that to have happened.’
‘Both my parents died in it,’ she revealed sadly.
The room fell silent with neither man knowing what to say. Then the door opened and Don entered the room. His face was bathed in bandages and he looked like an impoverish ghost in a Hollywood film. Anya and the two men stared at him in disbelief.
‘What the hell goes on in this place,’ barked Farrow with surprise. ‘Doesn’t anyone dare show their face?’
‘What happened to you,’ asked Anya as she looked at him more closely.
‘I’ve had my nose reshaped,’ he told her flatly, ‘and it hurts like hell!’
‘Well you can tell us anything because we’ll never be able to recognise you without the masks,’ remarked Collinge, with an element of amusement in his voice. ‘Look, Mr. Wise,’ he went on. ‘We wanted to see Mr. Harris but we understand he’s no longer available. You worked with him in this unit. What can you tell us about hydrogenetics?’
‘Nothing at all,’ came the muffled reply. ‘Bob worked entirely on his own on this one. He was very secretive and panicked when the computer was wiped clean and all the notes were lost together with the formula. But he kept me right out of it.’
Anya stared at him with surprise. ‘Don!’ she retorted with surprise in her voice. ‘You’ve lost your stutter!’
‘I know,’ he responded amiably. ‘I was hypnotised. Lord knows what happened during the trance but when I came out of it, I didn’t stutter. Isn’t it great?’
‘Come on, Mr. Wise,’ interjected Farrow irately. ‘You must be able to tell us something about the process!’
‘I told you,’ repeated the scientist. ‘Bob kept it all to himself. I’d help you if I could. I really would.’
The two men realised that they were on a bum steer and glanced at each other momentarily. Then they rose from their seats angrily and left without another word. Their views of the brainstorming unit could never be published because they would be too slanderous and low-minded.
After they had gone, Anya turned to her colleague wearing a smile underneath her mask.
‘So you had your nose reshaped. I did the same about three months ago. The funny thing is that neither one of us knows what we’re going to look like.’
‘Well, like you, I have more cosmetic surgery to be carried out,’ stated Don almost boastfully. ‘Next will be my lips, then my cheeks and my ears. I’m going to have the largest teeth on each side of my mouth removed to enhance my cheekbones.’
‘You’ll look quite handsome, I’m sure.’
‘An I’ve got to lose at least two more stone.’
‘You’ll look like a prince,’ she went on encouragingly. ‘As for me, I need at least three more operations. I have no idea what they’re doing to my face. I shall probably end up looking like the Wicked Witch in the West.’
‘I don’t think so,’ he said thoughtfully. ‘You’re going to be so beautiful. I mean it. You’ll look like a princess.’
‘Huh... with me as a princess and you as a prince, it looks like we may have a future together.’
He paused for a moment appearing stunned. Her words struck home for he had never thought of her as a woman before... not with the mask covering her face. She was a warm lovely person and he suddenly began to see her in a completely different light. He realised that he could talk easily to her, confide in her, and have fun with her. It hadn’t been like that with any other woman before. For her part, she accepted him the way he was, looking into his mind rather than at his ugly face and body. Yet now he was changing physically, and the operations on her face would end shortly. It was all coming together as though Destiny had it in mind what the outcome would be.
He closed his mind to the idea of a relationship and sat opposite her at the brainstorming table to discuss any ideas which they might put forward to senior management of the organisation. As they started to speak, he found himself leaning slightly across the table to take her hands. He then realised what he was doing and withdrew them swiftly in embarrassment. It was impossible to know how she had felt about it as her face was hidden behind the mask.
‘Look at us!’ she laughed, changing the subject. ‘Two weirdos out of a horror movie! No wonder those two men were shocked when they saw us.’‘
He found the comment very amusing and burst into laughter to which she joined in. It was really fun working with a woman who was born in Samarkand... distant glorious golden ancient Samarkand!
Chapter Thirteen
Later that day, Anya sat at her desk, which had been the one used by Robert Harris’s, poring at the data on the computer. She was looking at detailed information relating to hydrogen for two specific reasons. Firstly, there could come a point in her career where the management of the company might come to her to ask more about the process in which case she wanted to be ready to answer them. It had been particularly embarrassing not to be able to converse with the two men who had come to the unit on the subject, Secondly, she had a strong suspicion that her predecessor’s theory may not have been plausible. Certainly many scientists had ridiculed the fact that a proton in a hydrogen cell could be moved as it was against all the laws of nature, yet Harris had insisted that it was possible to do so. As her knowledge of the subject was rather limited, because she had been involved only with research on lamb’s wool and diseases of that animal over the years, she was cribbing as hard as she could to keep in line with the project. Initially, everything was basic. Hydrogen was a diatomic element in liquid and solid states. It fell naturally into pairs of atoms. It was never found on its own but was always combined with other elements such as oxygen or carbon. Therefore each hydrogen molecule consisted of two hydrogen atoms with each atom consisting of one proton and one electron being linked by a covalent bond. Anya looked into the subject a little deeper and then came up with her own view of the situation.
‘I get it,’ she said to herself. ‘Harris was furthering an extension of the theory of the Schrodinger equation which could be described as the dynamics on new relativinistic particles. He believed that if he managed to shift the proton, the heat gathered from its mass would be phenomenal. Hm... this will take some working out!’
She dedicated the next hour to trying to define the theory but broke off eventually to make herself a cup of coffee and free her mind of the issue. If she had continued, she knew that she would be unable to sleep easily that night, tossing and turning restlessly trying to resolve the matter. The theory put forward by Harris was certainly one that would keep her mind active until she managed to understand it fully and determine, one way or another, whether it was practical. All this would take time... lots of time!
***
Jake found some time to go to Don to ask him for the address of David Coleman. The scientist shrugged his shoulders but was persuaded by the ex-convict to contact the Personnel Department of Universal Energy. He did so under the guise that the departing manager had left his coat and some of his belongings behind when he left and that he wanted the address so that he could send the items on to him. They gave him one address in London but then went on to say that his next of kin lived in the Midlands and they offered him that address as well. Shortly afterwards, the scientist contacted Jake to pass on all the information and the ex-convict thanked him and went on his way with his giant henchman to the London address. They soon discovered that Coleman was no longer living there and so they drove to the Midlands where his father lived and ran his business.
They entered a large drive which had a large fountain in the centre whereby cars could enter and leave on a circular run. It was a beautiful four-bedroomed house with an excellently designed portico at the front door. Built only forty years earlier, it was the centre of a lovely plot of land shrouded at the rear by a thick forest of pine trees. Roy Coleman ran his business from hi
s home and there were three modern motor vehicles in the driveway with two people examining them with the intention of making a purchase.
Jake and his henchman alighted from their car and moved towards the entrepreneur who was clearly trying to sell the vehicles.
‘We’re here to see David Coleman,’ announced the ex-convict.
‘What do you want to see him about?’ asked the man tersely.
‘It’s something private. We can only talk to him about it,’ Jake told him.
‘I’m his father... Roy Coleman. Can’t I help?’ He was fully aware of the delinquent nature of his son and had long hoped that he would stay out of trouble. However, the size of the giant henchman indicated that something serious was blowing in the wind and it was not to be the case.
‘No... we must speak with him,’ insisted Jake remaining adamant.
Coleman nodded his head and turned to the potential buyers to excuse himself. He was not going to allow any strangers to molest his son without him being present to protect him.
‘Come with me!’ he invited the visitors walking into the house.
Jake glanced at the henchman and shrugged his shoulders. It appeared that the man was willing to help them in their mission. They went inside into a large well-furnished room where David Coleman sat reading a book. He was still wearing a dressing-gown, not having dressed, and his legs were resting on a coffee-table. He seemed to be extremely relaxed as he looked up to see the two visitors enter.
‘What have you been up to?’ demanded his father,
The expression on his son’s face was a picture. ‘What are you talking about? I haven’t done anything!’
Jake decided it was his turn to intervene. ‘How about the formula and notes for the heating process at Universal Energy,’ he snapped. ‘You stole them and then wiped the computer clean of the information.’