by Dale Brown
"Mommy?" It was the little girl, holding up the magazine to her mother.
"Just a moment, sweetheart…"
"Maybe it would be better if your daughter waited out-
side," Jon suggested coolly. He reached for the intercom on the phone on the conference table.
Duffield smiled at Jon; then, still watching him, she bent down to her daughter. "Yes, dear?"
"Look." She indicated one of the articles in the journal.
"Oh, I see that. Isn't that a nice picture." Duffield took the journal out of her daughter's hands. "Journal of the International Association of Applied Energy Engineers. The 'Zap Mag,' I believe you call it?" she asked Jon.
"I guess." To the intercom, he said, "Suzanne, could you come and get little… little…" Jon realized he did not know the little girl's name."… Mrs. Duffield's daughter for us for a few moments?"
"And I see it's an article about… what does it say?" Duffield said to her daughter, still looking at Jon. Jon and Helen both looked at the woman in total puzzlement. What was she doing, including her daughter in this conversation about an article in a technical journal? "It says, 'Conditions for improved propagation of laser energy fields in the lower atmosphere.' How interesting. Have you read this article, Dr. Masters?"
"No, I haven't. Suzanne…?"
"It's a fascinating article," Duffield said, almost in mock excitement. "I believe you were the one who developed the science that allowed the rollout of the first viable plasmayield weapon system, isn't that right, Dr. Masters? But it can generally only be used in the upper atmosphere because of the distortion of the plasma wave by rare gases under higher pressures in the lower atmosphere. This tells about how laser energy fields are more effective in tactical battlefield scenarios."
Jon looked at Duffield in surprise, then accepted the magazine when she offered it to him. Jon read the name of the writer, his brows knotting in confusion. "'By Dr. Kelsey Duffield'? But I thought you said you were an accountant?"
"I am," the woman said. "But my name is Cheryl Duffield." She motioned to the little girl standing beside her with a smile. "Dr. Masters, this is Dr. Kelsey Duffield."
"Jon made a little puffing sound with his mouth, as if he was about to laugh but instantly knew the joke was on him. "You… you 're Kelsey Duffield?" Helen asked incredulously.
"Yes, Dr. Helen," the little girl replied with a tiny giggle.
"Don't be too embarrassed-people make incorrect assumptions all the time," Hudson said. "Cheryl likes stringing along the charade as long as she can." He smiled mischievously and added, "I think this was a record."
"This was no 'incorrect assumption.' You did this deliberately," Jon argued.
"This article has your picture on it, Mrs. Duffield," Helen pointed out perturbedly.
"Would you read an article that had the picture of a nineyear-old girl over it?" Cheryl asked. "Most scientists and engineers wouldn't. Even with as much as one percent of today's masters and doctoral candidates five or more years below the average age-and Kelsey was twenty-three years below the average for her first doctorate-few accept young savants as anything else but freaks. Besides, we thought it was funny."
"I don't appreciate the humor in it, or your subterfuge for this meeting, intended or not," Helen said pointedly. "These meetings rely on a great deal of mutual trust and professionalism, neither of which you've displayed. Jon?" She looked over at her husband, expecting him to say something or even storm out of the room. But he suddenly looked totally confused, at first reading bits of the journal article, then looking quizzically at Kelsey Duffield. "Jon?" Jon opened his mouth, closed it, pointed at the magazine, made a sound as he tried to say something again, then started staring off into space. Helen was confused and a little frustrated-her "good I cop" act was not happening here. "Jon…?"
"It looks like you have a question, Dr. Jon," Kelsey observed, with that impish smile-too similar to Jon's, Helen noted with immense dismay. "About the article?"
"I…" He looked like a fish out of water. Now, Helen thought wryly, she knew what some of the members of his doctorate boards must've looked like as he spoke to them about technologies that wouldn't become realities for a generation to come-Jon Masters, the supergenius, was finally having to deal with his own little supergenius. "A laser energy field? A plasma energy field excited by a laser? That's impossible. They don't exist at the same space-time. They can't exist together."
"You're still working around the notion of noninterchangeable space-time continuums, Dr. Jon?" little Kelsey asked, truly surprised at the notion. She shrugged, then nodded knowingly. "Well, I guess if you still subscribe to the idea that matter and energy exist in only one spacetime as defined by things like frequency, mass, and acceleration, then it's true-they can't exist together. But I think there are an infinite number of continuums that exist in each measurable space-time."
"That's… that's ridiculous," Jon said, but even as he said it, he couldn't convince himself it was so ridiculous. "Measurement, predictability, quantification-all those are space-time equivalents. Mathematically anything can be proven or disproven, but you can't build-or sell-something that only exists as an equation on the blackboard. Even Einstein couldn't do that." At that, Kelsey Duffield's smile grew even broader. "Okay. How?"
"How much is it worth to you to find out?" Hudson asked.
"Excuse me?" Jon said, purposely raising his voice. "You're going to start haggling like we're buying souvenirs in a marketplace in the Bahamas or something?"
"I didn't mean to sound impertinent," Hudson said. "But although I don't understand a fraction of what Kelsey does or says most of the time, she has over and over proven to me that what she says is real and can work. I've invested most of my personal fortune in her and her work, as I'm sure you guessed that her parents have.
"But the Duffields know anyone can build a lab-the difficult part is getting the products of the lab to be accepted and turned into something useful and important. As much as Kelsey's theories and experiments are revolutionary, they will never gain acceptance in the real world because of who she is. Sky Masters has a good reputationthe best in the world. That's why we've come to you."
Jon Masters looked at his wife, to Hudson, then finally to the Duffields. Kelsey stood quietly, her tiny little hands folded neatly before her. He then looked back at his wife, his eyes silently asking the question he dared not verbalize. Helen nodded, trying to reassure him with a faint smile. Jon turned back to Kelsey. "You're going to tell us everything? Lay it all out for us? Explain everything?"
"Yes," Hudson said. "For a third."
"What did you say?"
"We're going to share, Jon," Kelsey said. The more she spoke, the faster she seemed to age-in just a few seconds it suddenly seemed as if her voice, her mannerisms, even the look in her eyes had all grown up. "You and Helen and I-"
"That's Dr. Masters to you, little girl," Jon admonished her.
"I feel much closer to you than all these boring titles, Jon and Helen," Kelsey said, her eyes smiling-maybe laughing, Jon thought. "I like you. I like you both very much. You're like my big brother, and Helen is like my big sister."
"You and Dr. Masters now own seventy-three percent of the outstanding stock," Cheryl Duffield said. "You will sell thirty-three percent of it to Sierra Vistas Partners and then divest seven percent back to the company. You will then cancel all other stock option deals you have with the corporation so you can have no more than one-third of the outstanding stock. We will reapportion the board accordingly-one-third controlled by you, one-third by Sierra Vistas Partners, and one-third by the other shareholders."
"What kind of crazy scheme is this?" Jon retorted. "This is my company. I didn't just acquire the stock-I didn't even buy most of it. I earned it. I took my compensation in stock when the stock was worth less than a dollar a share. I'm not going to just give it up, especially to strangers."
"The stock options that you've negotiated in place of salaries and other compensation
have ensured you total control of the company for many years, Dr. Masters," Hudson said. "Good or bad, you control the company because you control the stock-"
"I'm also the chief designer and engineer," Jon interjected. "I built this company by taking chances and by developing technologies that work and remain on the cutting edge. I've given my life to this company, and I've taken nothing but the paper value out. My shareholders are my shareholders because they like that arrangement."
"That's not what I hear," Cheryl Duffield said. "Your shareholders are not happy about this, but there was nothing they could do about it-they either stuck with you or got nothing. But now they're riding the company with you into the ground."
"That's your opinion," Jon said heatedly.
"It's a fact," Cheryl said. "Well, the tables are turned. Refuse this tender offer, and you risk losing all your shareholders, bankrupting your company, and opening yourself up to a lawsuit. Sierra Vistas Partners will be there to pick up the pieces. If you accept our offer, you recoup some of your losses, you gain my daughter's knowledge and wealth of ideas, and your company survives. No corporate raiders I know will give you a better deal."
"The stockholders won't go for it," Jon said. "The board will never vote to approve it. None of this will stand up in court. You'd be wasting your time."
"I think we can make an offer attractive enough for most of your shareholders," Cheryl said. "As far as the courtswell, the last thing you need in this market climate is a lawsuit. It'll sink your company fast."
"What's stopping me from just taking the cash you give me and buying more stock?"
"Your promise not to do so, not to upset the one-third balance," Hudson replied. "This arrangement is based on trust…"
"You have a funny way of showing it, Mrs. Duffield."
"We feel a one-third split is best for the company-neither of us gains a majority unless our ideas and proposals sufficiently sway the other shareholders to side with one or the other," Hudson went on. "Once news hits the street that you've given up your stock options, the value of the stock will soar."
"So what's preventing you from selling your shares and cleaning up?"
"We restrict the stock we own for one year," Cheryl Duffield replied. "If either of us wants out, we have to promise to offer it to the other shareholders first, at a prenegotiated price. But that's not what we're doing this for. We certainly don't need the money, and we're not stock speculators. We're building a future for ourselves and Kelsey by building a partnership with you and Helen and the other talented folks you have here."
"We'll work together, Jon," Kelsey said. "It's more fun that way."
"Fun? You think any of this is fun? Do you have any idea what we do around here, little girl?"
"I'm Kelsey," she said, smiling at him. "We'll make things, Jon and Helen. We'll make things other people have never dreamed of. Fantastic, unbelievable, wonderful things. We'll make people happy and make people's lives better."
"Are you for real?" Helen Masters asked. "Do you have any idea what you're getting yourself into?"
Kelsey Duffield walked over between Jon and Helen and took their hands into hers. "We're friends now, right?" she asked. "We're going to be together and build things so incredible, no one will believe it. Right?"
Neil Hudson opened his briefcase and extracted several documents-including a check. "Value of your stock at its thirty-nine-week average price per share-exceedingly generous given the current stock price. You agree to sell the seven percent back to the company at the same price, you give up your stock options, and you agree to make Sierra Vistas Partners your partner. Dr. Duffield comes on board as co-chief operating officer and co-chief engineer, sharing responsibilities and privileges equally with Jon
Masters. Dr. Helen Masters stays on as president for one year, at which time there will be elections for officers."
Jon took the check, looked at all the zeroes typed on it, then looked at the Duffields. "I… I have to think about it."
"Please, Jon?" Kelsey asked. "It'll be fun. I promise." Jon hesitated, looking at Helen, then staring at nothing. Kelsey smiled and said in a low voice, almost a whisper, "I'll tell you about the laser field, Jon. When I tell you, you'll be so mad."
"Mad? Why?"
"Because you already know how it works."
"What did you say?" Jon asked. "Know how what works? How can I know how it works if I've never even heard of it before!"
"You already know how it works, I'll bet," Kelsey said. "You just don't believe it. You keep on saying 'no' because you don't believe it could be so simple. I'll tell you, Jon, and then we'll build it, and then we'll build other things you've already thought about but don't believe either. It'll be fun."
Jon sat back in his chair, visibly deflated. That was the last word he had expected to hear this morning: the word "fun." He wanted so badly to tell this little superbrained girl that he had already lost a friend, may have lost another close friend, and several more friends were in serious danger. He wanted to tell her that what happened to the company didn't matter-it was what his company was trying to do for the people of the United States and the world that was important. But she was here, with her mother and CPA and her father's SumaTek money, ready to create alternate universes inside lasers and other such fantasy gadgets. He wanted to tell her to just go away and let the adults get back to work.
But then Jon's brain registered the feel of the check between his fingers, and he thought of all those zeroes on it. He couldn't do a thing if he went bankrupt or if this cute little savant walked off with his company. Paul would still be gone, Wendy would still be missing, and" the others would still be in trouble-except then they wouldn't have any of Sky Masters's technology to help them.
"I need to tell you something," Jon said slowly. "I need to verify your security clearance, so I can't tell you everything, but I can tell you this: Your security clearance is not going to prepare you for what you'll learn. We do a lot of very interesting things here, but it's not what I would call 'fun.' In fact, I'd say most of it is downright horrifying."
"My daughter doesn't design talking dolls and little robot voice-controlled dogs and dream about a life filled with roses and sunshine," Cheryl said. She reached over and stroked Kelsey's hair and shoulders, smiling warmly at her. "She designs laser weapons and dreams about stopping enemy airplanes with force fields. No one ever told her what to do, what to focus on. She just did it.
"My husband and I brought her up like any other young girl-at least, we tried to. We dressed her in pink dresses and little black shoes and put ribbons in her hair. We read Dr. Seuss and Goodnight Moon and Harry Potter books to her.
"But by the time she was one year old, at the same time other kids were just starting to walk, she was reading the Wall Street Journal and Aviation Week & Space Technology. The first book she read wasn't Nancy Drew or Powerpuff Girls at six years old-it was Drexler's Nanosystems: Molecular Machinery, Manufacturing, and Computation at thirteen months. The year after that, she was one of the contributors to Drexler's updated edition."
Cheryl paused, her eyes adopting a far-off look as if she was replaying all the many moments, pleasant and otherwise, in her memory. "We knew we couldn't treat her like an ordinary child," she went on. "By age six she was discussing weapons, theories, devices, and formulas that were making advisers to presidents sweat and four-star generals lick their lips. She's been asked to teach nanotechnology at comell's Duffield Hall, the engineering research facility my husband built-a nine-year-old professor of nanoengineering, teaching at her father's school. Do you think she'd be scared to learn how many persons a plasma-yield warhead can kill, or that one of your NIRTSats can direct a two-thousand-pound bomb to hit its target within six inches? She's already figured out how to build supercomputers the size of an amoeba and turn the Moon into a photonic energy source that will supply the entire Earth with energy for a millennium. She talks to herself about the energy requirements for teleportation while she plays with Barbie
dolls. At first I was worried about her being taken seriously-now I'm worried about her talents going to waste or, worse, falling into the wrong hands."
Cheryl looked up at Jon, then at Helen, and asked in a quiet voice, "Do you have children?" They shook their heads. "All you want for them is the best," she went on. "You would give your own life to save theirs, sacrifice your own happiness to ensure their happiness. But what do you do if what your child is doing, the thing that makes her the happiest, might upset-or even destroy-your world? Do you let her have that experience?"
Her voice lowered almost to a whisper. "Sometimes when she'd fall off her bike or trip on the stairs or come down with a fever, I'd pray that the accident or illness would turn her back into a normal child," she said sadly. "But, of course, it never did-in fact, I think it made her even more intelligent, as if the bacteria or viruses were millions of new brains talking to her, telling her more and more of the secrets of the universe.
"But you were a child genius too, Dr. Masters," she said to Jon. "You understand what Kelsey's going through. You had parents that encouraged you to think beyond your age, beyond the levels where others thought you should be. We chose you because you've gone through what Kelsey is just starting to experience. I think it was hard for you, breaking down all the institutional and bigotry barriers, but you did it. You can be much more than a partner to Kelsey-you can be a mentor, a guide. No one else in the United States can do that for her. Only you."
Cheryl Duffield looked up at the Masterses, and the steel returned to her eyes and voice. "She knows atf about what you do, what you build, and whom you build them for," she said. "She wants to help you build the next two generations of weapon systems, far better than you or I or anyone yet born can imagine. Her father and I said we'd help her do that, because in a way, that's what parents do for their kids. It's not ballet or baseball, but parents are supposed to help their kids follow their dreams. Right?"