Pillar to the Sky (16 page)

“He already knows,” Bock replied.

“How?”

“Come on, Gary, we’re talking about one of the most brilliant men either of us knows. He made your referral to me and told me to cut the crap with waiting for an appointment and to see you the next day, which I did last week. He pretty well had it figured: your drooping right foot, the fact that you were stumbling at times, dropping things, when tired your speech slurred a bit even though you don’t drink. So I bet he went to the same Internet sites you did, but unlike you he called in the doctor.”

“We have to tell him anyhow,” Eva said, trembling hand clenched tight in Gary’s.

“And let me guess,” Gary said, and there was a note of bitterness and frustration in his voice. “Now you’re going to tell me to retire, take it easy, stare out the window, do some dumbass physical therapy sessions, find a counselor for the emotional stuff, and wait to die.”

Bock smiled, got out from behind his desk, pulled up a chair, and sat directly in front of Gary, gazing at him intently as if examining him again.

“There are times I love my job,” Bock said, “especially the winners and, with kids, when there is a cure and we get to the problem ahead of time. Mostly, though, I have days like this one.”

He paused, and Eva wondered if this man was about to be overcome with emotion; she could sense his frustration.

“I am not going to con you, Gary. From your current state, I would guess onset at between twelve to eighteen months ago of the first physical signs that were noticeable.”

Gary said nothing. Bock had spent their first hour together just getting a case history, so he already knew that.

“I could suggest retiring, both of you. I actually believe in Franklin’s Folly and I know your role in it. You can sign out today and Franklin would make sure you were both set up for life; then go out and enjoy it. But then again, I have a sense of who the two of you are. And both of you would tell me to go to hell.”

Gary answered yes. Eva sat silently and finally nodded in agreement with Gary. Bock smiled.

“Bully for you, as old Teddy Roosevelt used to say. I have patients who take five years off of their life just in the walk from here to their car. They go home, curl up, and wait to die. You two aren’t the type. Stay at it, go to work today. I know Franklin: he’ll say a few words, and then off to your next meeting.”

“He better not tell anyone else,” Gary said. “I’ll be damned if I am treated like some dying man because of this.”

“Gary, you can look at it this way. From the moment we’re born, all of us are on the path of dying. There are nights I have to sit by the bed of a ten-year-old and look at his parents on the other side keeping watch on his final hour. Even as the parents cannot accept the reality of it, the child knows and even welcomes it. I believe in a gentle God, but I do have to ask why at such moments.

“I could give the old platitude about what a good life you’ve had so far, Gary. Just seeing the love between you and Eva, what I have heard about your wonderful daughter—all of it is a blessing. As to your future? I’m always asked, ‘How long do I got?’”

He sighed.

“I can’t tell you. That actor—such a young guy when this was found out—is still going strong after nearly twenty years. Others—and I do not BS my patients—five years. So let’s cut the difference. I think you have a lot of good years ahead of you. Maybe not the best in the physical sense, but you’re one of those egghead scientist types, and as long as you can think clearly and keep on working on your dream, I’m with you all the way. So go back to work and look for years more work ahead, but by heavens, you will let me be in charge of your treatment to help keep you going.

“OK?”

Gary nodded.

Bock smiled and leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes for a few seconds and Eva could sense that this man apparently had had a sleepless night, and chances were that when he made the comment about the ten-year-old, that was most likely how he had spent the previous night. He struck her as that kind of doctor, who put his heart and soul into his patients, and she whispered a silent prayer of blessing for him. He looked off for a moment, then forced a smile.

“I can deal with my body going down,” Gary said, “but my mind? You kind of dodged that a bit.”

“An answer? I can’t say for now. Five years, maybe, before you’ll start to sense a decline, if we are lucky. You stick to your medication, diet, and exercise, and for you I think the mental exercise is a key.”

“Just great,” Gary sighed, looking away in frustration.
I lose my mind before we finish the tower,
he thought, looking over at Eva, who he knew was thinking the same thing.

Bock put a reassuring hand on Gary’s shoulder and squeezed it.

“I believe in you. I met Franklin a few days after the press conference when he announced the real plan behind Pillar Inc., dropping the veil of some super resort, which we all knew was bull, just not his style for an investment. I doubt if you remember me being there; you two were so obviously overwhelmed by the crowd. That character dragged me off and inside of ten minutes talked me out of several million to invest. So much for my 401(k).”

Bock chuckled, shaking his head.

“Anyhow, I like investing in dreams. I always kicked myself for not putting ten thousand into him when we first met twenty years ago … Hell, I’d be retired now and cruising the sky in my own fantasy, an original P-51 Mustang, if I had fallen for his first sell job on me.”

Gary chuckled at that.

“I doubt that,” Eva interjected. “You’d still be here doing what you are doing right now.”

He looked at her and nodded, acknowledging her wisdom and insight.

“Anyhow, there’s the old joke about putting doctors into high-performance planes and our life expectancy. But still, it is a nice fantasy.”

Another laugh.

“Get that tower, pillar, whatever you call it, built and I am on my way. That was his pitch to me and some other doctors: the thought of geriatric research and life in low-gravity environments.”

“Or maybe for Parkinson’s,” Gary replied. “Guess I’ll be thinking of that now as well.”

“A good goal, Gary Morgan,” Bock said, leaning over to pat Gary on the shoulder again. “Maybe God’s way of telling us there are other purposes behind this tower as well. A very good goal.

“So, you two. Go out to your car, have a good cry. Gary, play on this lovely lady a bit for some extra TLC, at least for a few days”—he smiled at her and actually winked—“and go back to work. We’ll meet weekly for a while to do some tests, see how you take to the meds, and you can keep me posted on the work.”

He stood up, indicating their time was up. Without doubt, by now there were half a dozen other patients in the waiting room, waiting for news, either good or bad, and Gary knew they would receive the same understanding and compassion he had just gotten with this gentle, good man.

“Since I’m an investor, though, no insider information as to how it is really going with the project,” Bock said with a smile, taking Gary’s hand with his left and Eva’s with his right. “You’re in my prayers; I’m one of those doctors that still believes in that, and honestly, I look forward to when we can one day do a consultation—up there,” and he nodded toward the heavens.

“Yeah, part of how Franklin sold me was talking about the potential positive effects of low-gravity environments for patients who are no longer ambulatory. He wants me to consult on building the first clinic.”

“And by then I’ll be a patient there, I guess,” Gary said, momentarily giving way to despair.

“Perhaps,” Bock said, and now his voice was steady and forceful. “But it is worth thinking about as you work. Maybe you won’t get the tower or pillar, as Franklin calls it, built in time for you, but for others? I would rather like the idea. In my line of work, I see things every day that I want to change but cannot. Maybe you two are working on something that can change lives for the better that no one, especially all you engineering types, have even thought about yet. Gary, hope is what life is all about, so when you walk out of here, decide whether you are dying or going on with living. It is why I am telling you to hell with retirement: now go back to work.”

Back at the car, Gary did not even comment about who would drive. He felt OK to do so, but the spasm he had had several days back—when he felt no control over his right foot, which just drooped—spooked him a bit on the idea. Eva made the gesture of offering him the keys. There were some aspects of her old Ukrainian upbringing that drove their more feminist-oriented friends wild at times, and his old insistence that he drive whenever they traveled together was one of them. But she did offer the keys, he refused, they got in the car, and ten seconds later she disintegrated into tears and was holding him close.

“Why don’t we just take the day off and go home,” she gasped.

He forced a smile.

“No way in hell. We’re getting paid more in a week than we used to make in half a year. Besides, what do we do once we’re home? Sit and brood? Stare out the window at the rain?”

But then he did look over at her with a smile, a bit of a twinkle in his eye. Her tears stopped and she smiled back.

“Save that for later tonight, Gary Morgan!”

And they both laughed and hugged each other.

“Let’s go to the office.”

“One thing, though,” Eva asked. “What do we tell Victoria?”

That question had been troubling him, too, since he already knew before they went in to see Bock what the prognosis was. The last six months … what a whirlwind. On signing the contracts with Franklin, he never imagined there could be such a mountain of paperwork for a simple hire in the private sector, but this was more about a partnership than a simple employee agreement. Then they went back to Goddard to pack up. They put their house on the market only days later; with that aspect of the economy still tottering, the appraisal and sale left them in shock, even though Franklin pointed out that a week’s pay would more than make up what they lost in selling their home. Then it was off to the new home—some real sticker shock there—then moving, unpacking thousands of books, one of the treasured works a battered copy of de Camp’s
Ancient Engineers
that Erich had given him, then seeing Victoria off to college. And all the time digging into work on the dream, which now actually seemed real at last.

Victoria. She had been home for two weeks at Christmas, and when she left it was even more painful than her first departure. At this moment it hit him hard just how much he missed their daughter.

“We tell her the truth,” Eva said. “Besides, I think she suspected as well.”

“‘As well’?”

“She asked me before she left for college if something was wrong. Even mentioned Parkinson’s. Remember, your little girl still worships her daddy and watches his every step.”

He smiled and now his eyes filled up.

“She said she’ll solo within the week?”

Eva nodded, not at all happy with that thought. They had signed the paperwork for her to join the flying club on campus, do ground school—which was worth three credit hours—and take flight lessons. In their conversation of just the night before, she casually dropped the word that she was about ready to solo, most likely this coming weekend.

“I think, given the situation, we can hit Franklin up for a favor,” Gary said.

“And that is?”

“If his plane is free, let’s fly out to see our little girl and tell her face-to-face. I’d prefer it that way.”

Eva’s tears vanished and she grinned with delight.

*   *   *

The Gulfstream touched down flawlessly on the main runway of the university. During the Second World War, Purdue had become a major training center for pilots, a program that had actually been started several years earlier by the legendary Amelia Earhart, for whom the field was named. He felt a swelling of nostalgia as the pilot crossed over the campus on final and he looked down on the place where he had spent four years of his life, building his dreams, and many a late night spending hours with the new Internet, exchanging e-mails with the Ukraine.

As they taxied up to the small somewhat run-down terminal, a crowd was outside, braving the cold January day to greet them. Actually it was not so much to greet them: Franklin had insisted upon coming along, saying there were a couple of other stops they could make over the weekend, so it would be a working trip for the three of them; and besides he wanted to watch his “intern” do her solo.

Gary had thought to call ahead, checking in with the professor, Brandon NeSmith, who was flight instructor for the air club. Yes, his daughter was ready to solo; NeSmith had figured he would take her around this Saturday—the weather forecast perfect for a new pilot—give her the classic “Give me three touch and goes” before getting out of the plane, and telling her to give him three more—on her own.

There had been some reluctance at first on the professor’s part—he really did not like nervous parents hanging around—but when Gary explained the circumstances and who he would be coming with, the arrangement was sealed in a second.

Wind less than five knots, straight down the runway, a nice cold day, limitless visibility, and until the hatch of the Gulfstream opened, Victoria had no idea who was on the plane. There had only been an e-mail bulletin to all aerospace engineering majors late yesterday that they were invited to the campus airport for a surprise guest lecturer. Given that it came from the department chair, “invited” was all but an order, and as the Gulfstream taxied up, Gary could see a hundred or so students out early and braving the midwestern winter chill.

Back in the days of the shuttle, a “surprise guest lecturer” usually meant a visiting alumnus who was now an astronaut dropping in for a visit, but those days were gone. Few outside of Purdue knew that the university had graduated more astronauts than any other college, including the military academies. It was the place that astronauts in training were sent for master’s degrees in aerospace engineering or whatever areas of work in space they were specializing in.

They had agreed that Franklin would disembark first, since he was the surprise guest lecturer. Chairs had already been set up in a freezing-cold hangar. When the crowd caught sight of him, it was like a rock star making an appearance for the collection of campus “nerds.” Most had shown up because there was nothing else to do on campus on a Saturday morning. Purdue was definitely not a “party school,” and more than a few figured it would impress their professors if they did show. But as the hatchway dropped and Franklin stepped out, there was a flurry of remarks, a few shouts of surprise, and then even applause.