Smarter (an Ell Donsaii story #2) (8 page)

“Well, some atomic force microscopy probes already have a carbon nanotube attached to the tip as a “point” to make them ‘sharper.’ If it didn’t matter to your project whether the carbon macromolecule was on the AFM probe or the AFM probe was poking the molecule, you could just use a probe with a carbon macromolecule already on it.”

“Tips really come that way?” She eyed him suspiciously, “Or are you just riding me?”

“Yep,” he grinned, “they come that way. Hey, we lab rats’re going out for beers tonight.  And, I’m thinking you owe me a beer for telling you about the probes, eh?”

“Oh, I’m not old enough…” Ell suddenly remembered that her Ellen Symonds persona was old enough to drink, “I mean, ‘young enough’ to be fooled into buying you a drink. I think you probably owe
me
a beer for providing a new target for Johnson’s wrath at the lab meetings, don’t you?”

Roger laughed, “Tell you what, I’ll buy you a beer for providing a target and you buy me a beer for the AFM suggestion. We’re leaving at 6 and going to West 87. You up for it?”

Ell considered, it was a Friday night and it would be good to get out and make some friends. “Sure, if I’m not done here, I’ll just meet you there a little later.”

Ell felt a little weird walking past the bouncer whose AI undoubtedly queried her “Ellen” AI, “Fred,” and found a purported age of 23. The bouncer hardly glanced at her, trusting the tech completely. This being her first time in a bar, she goggled as she looked around at all the huge screens showing various sporting events. There were people that ranged from students to construction workers seated at tables and in booths and a number of pool and foosball tables scattered around.

She walked up to Roger and poked him in the ribs, “Hey, nice wild goose chase you sent me on!”

“What do you mean?”

“Yeah, AFM probes
do
come with carbon nanotubes attached, but those nanotubes aren’t ‘entangled’ with another molecule! I’m embarrassed to admit I wasted an hour finding and ordering a probe before I thought of that little detail!”

“Oops! I must tell you however, that that is the very first time I’ve ever made a mistake.” He grinned unrepentantly down at her.

Ell punched him in the arm, “This means that I don’t owe you a beer for the probe suggestion. You, however, still owe me a drink for taking all of Johnson’s flack.”

Roger’s eyes widened, then Ell heard Johnson’s voice over her shoulder, “Ms. Symonds, are you impugning my teaching methods by calling them ‘flack’?”

Ell ducked her head and turned to see Johnson right behind her with a beer in his hand, “Uh, no sir!” She was relieved to see a twinkle in Johnson’s eye.

“Good, because that’s how great physicists are born, they learn to defend themselves.”

“Really sir? How long have you been cultivating these mixed metaphors?”

To her relief he grinned again, “That’s how great physicists grow, they plow under some metaphors. Roger is a poor grad student who can’t possibly afford to buy you a beer, so I’m buying. What’ll you have?”

“Uh, a coke sir.”

“You don’t have to teetotal just because I’m here. I’d be happy to get you a beer.”

Ell gulped, feeling guilty, but having decided that she didn’t want to take advantage of her false identity to drink underage, she said, “It’s OK, sir, I don’t drink. A Coke’d be great though, thanks.”

Johnson turned and left without saying anything. Ell turned back to Roger, “Is he mad that I didn’t have a beer?”

“Nope, you worried because he didn’t say anything, just went back to the bar?”

“Yeah, kinda.”

“Get used to it. Haven’t you noticed he never says good bye or in any way indicates the conclusion of a conversation?”

“Well, yeah.”

“Just how he is. I’m pretty sure he’s got Asperger’s syndrome.”

“Huh?”

“You know. A kind of autism. Very high functioning but poor social skills. He’s genius level physics, but weird to talk to. And as you’re finding out, he can be very hard to get along with.”

“Oh.” Ell saw Johnson returning with her Coke, so she stopped talking to Roger and waved to the other grad students sitting around the little table. “How’s it goin’?”

They all nodded and responded with some version of “fine.” A redheaded young man Ell hadn’t seen before said, “I’m Jerry, from the Sponchesi lab.”

Roger said, “Sorry, I forgot you hadn’t met everyone. This is Ellen Symonds. Dr. Johnson has assigned her to try to test that new theory of Donsaii’s.”

A chorus of “Ouch,” and “Poor girl,” came from the group.

Johnson stepped up and handed Ell her Coke. “What are you guys moaning about? It shouldn’t take her long to prove
that
theory wrong and she’ll get a paper out of it.”

Roger said, “Proving a negative is tough though.”

Johnson rolled his eyes. “Please! That theory has so many holes in it; you could use it to strain spaghetti. With a little work she should be able to find all kinds of predictions that don’t work!” In an abrupt change of topic, he said, “Anyone want to apply some real world physics to the pool table over there?”

Johnson, Roger, Jerry and another grad student named Al headed over to the nearest empty pool table, leaving Ell to sit with Emma, also from the Sponchesi lab and James, a very handsome grad student, also from Johnson’s lab. Emma said, “That’s really tough being assigned to that Donsaii paper. The math is completely incomprehensible.”

Ell said, “I understand the math OK. I don’t know much about testing apparati though.”

Emma’s brown eyes widened. “Really? Well if you can understand
that
math, I’ll make you a deal. You help me with the math on my project, and I’ll help you with your equipment.”

James snorted, “Don’t agree to that devil’s bargain Ellen. The math on her project is really weird too! At least make her help you with your equipment first. Actually, that’d be a good deal, she can make machines sing.”

“Really?” Ell said, “I could sure use the help. What’s your project?”

As Emma described her work James rolled his eyes and then looked around the room, bored with shop talk. Ell was relieved to learn that Emma’s project involved a part of quantum theory that she was very familiar with because she’d worked with it some before coming up with her own theory. James interrupted, “How about some foosball? You ladies can gang up on me.”

Emma shook her head, setting her tight brunette curls bouncing. “Just say no, Ellen. He’s really good and loves to lord it over the rest of us.”

James said, “How about if I just use one hand?”

Emma stood with a sigh, “Come on Ellen, he won’t rest until he’s beaten us. You mind playing goalie?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t played much before.” Ell said, nervous because she hadn’t actually played foosball at all before and didn’t have any idea how well people normally performed at the game. She’d have to be careful not to exhibit her real hand-eye coordination for fear of freaking someone out. Nonetheless, she wanted to make friends and playing games would be part of the package. She got up and walked with them over to a table.

Emma showed her the table and the two grips for the goalie player, advising “Ellen” that if she just positioned her players carefully and didn’t move them much, she’d do “OK.”

James dropped a ball in and Emma started wildly striking at it with her forward players but the ball rolled past her to James’ back row players who quickly captured the ball and passed it up to his forward players where he stopped the ball and said, “Now Ellen, what you want to do is try to place your goalie players where they might stop my shot.”

Ell didn’t like his condescending tone but wiggled her two rows of players around a little as if in response to his suggestion, placing them between his current location and the goal. She aggressively tamped down the excitement which was threatening to send her into her “zone.” “Like this?” she asked.

“Well yeah, but,” James bumped the ball over to his middle player and hit it hard toward the opening in front of the goal that Ell’d left when she had positioned her players to block his side player.

Ell saw what he was doing and instinctively moved her player to block, moving much faster than she should have. Much faster than any normal person could react, so fast that her man was there in plenty of time to block the shot and drive it the length of the table into James’ goal. In a panicked realization of what she’d just done she wildly bounced her players back and forth, spinning them as if it had been an accidental flailing move rather than the purposeful shot it had been.

Emma crowed delightedly and lifted her hand for a “high five.” “Oh yeah! Way to go. We should just go sit down while James is eating
that
crow!”

Ell slapped her hand against Emma’s saying, “I’m pretty lucky sometimes.” She watched James’ stunned expression out of the corner of her eye. They played more, Ell now careful to let most of James’ shots sail right past her. She blocked a few but no more driving them back to the other end!

Ell found herself back at the table. As usual, Johnson had just walked out the door and gone home without saying goodbye to anyone. Emma and the handsome James seemed to be making eyes at each other and Ell was sitting between Roger and Jerry. Jerry had a great sense of humor and kept both of them in stitches with his analysis of the denizens of the bar, each of whom he proposed had an alter ego. “What about James?” Ell asked. “What’s his alter ego?”

“Oh him!” Jerry waved his hand deprecatingly, “He’s actually a ‘male escort’ for one of the ‘services’ in town. Women needing a discreet man to accompany them to an old enemy’s wedding and such; he’s there to provide a little arm candy.”

Ell snorted with mirth as she looked over at James’ aquiline blond good looks. “And Emma?”

“My goodness, you didn’t know?” He leaned forward conspiratorially, “An industrial spy. No one’s sure yet just what country she’s spying for but be very careful what you tell her about your discoveries on the infamous ‘Donsaii’ project.” Jerry and Roger both chortled delightedly at the thought of an industrial spy wanting any part of “Ellen’s” project.

Ell raised her eyebrows, “I’ll be sure to freeze her out on the critical details.” she said with a crooked grin. “What about Roger here? What’s his alter ego?”

“Oh, that’s just so sad. What you see is what you get. Nothing more to ol’ Rog’ than what you already know. Shallow as a sheet of graphene is our Roger.” Jerry grinned at Roger.

Roger snorted. “Not true! I’ve just completely concealed my alter ego behind this simple ‘Clark Kent’ façade.” He turned to Ell and stage whispered, “It’s just that Jerry has never seen to my true depths!”

“OK, how about you Jerry? What’s your alter ego?”

“Me? Li’l ol’ me?” Jerry put his hand dramatically on his chest. He leaned forward and stage whispered, “Actually, I’m an alien, visiting from Alpha Centauri. I’m evaluating the human race for admission to the Galactic Congress. Unfortunately, I’m having to report that these beings I find myself surrounded with don’t even know about the fifth dimension that connects quantum particles.” He waggled his eyebrows at Ell, “You, my dear, are these humans only hope!”

“Well, I’d better get home and get my rest then. I’ll need my strength to save our human race from you awful Centaurians!”

“Nooo!” the two young men said together. “The night is young.”

Ell however, got up, checked with Allan to be sure her tab was paid and made for the door. She didn’t want to be walking home after midnight even if her little apartment was only six blocks away. She waved good bye to the group but Jerry got up too, “Let me walk you home,” he called.

“Walk home with an alien?” Ell eyed him suspiciously, “You wouldn’t suck my brains out would you?”

“Of course not! Not on a first walk home! I have to lull your suspicions with insincere niceties for a while first.”

As they left Roger eyed them pensively. With that nose she might not be cute, but there was something about Ellen he really liked. He’d always liked smart women, and the way she calmly took Johnson’s brutal questioning, answering questions about the Donsaii math so unhesitatingly, had really impressed him.
If only I weren’t so shy around women,
he thought to himself,
she’s someone I think I could really get along with.

The heat of the day gone, the evening was pleasant if a little muggy as Ell and Jerry walked the streets to her place. Jerry kept up a witty banter that cheered her up. Seeing a few winos in alleys, Ell realized that her new neighborhood really wasn’t that great a place for a young woman to be out alone at night. It really made her appreciate his gesture in walking her home.

When they arrived at her building, Ell suddenly worried that Jerry might expect to be invited up to her apartment? She realized that if she did invite him up, he would encounter items giving away her disguise. At the main door she turned to him and said, “My suspicions have been significantly lulled. I remain concerned that you just want to suck out my brains, nonetheless I appreciate your protection from all the Rigellians disguised as winos that live in the alleys between here and West 87.”

To Ell’s relief, Jerry said, “Hey, no problem. See you on Monday, if I can avoid those selfsame Rigellians on my walk home.” He gave an exaggerated shiver, then turned and headed back down the street. Ell thumped upstairs and gratefully took off her “fat pants,” as she thought of the silicone padding that enlarged her butt. Then she carefully rearranged her things so that her spare “fat pants,” silicone nose prostheses, dark hair mousse and skin bronzers were hidden away from any but the most determined prying eyes.

In bed, while she tried to think about her testing apparatus, she found herself wondering what was wrong with her that Jerry didn’t ask to come up? Then she chastised herself for worrying
because
he’d acted like a gentleman. Then, with some self embarrassment, she thought for a while about how she hadn’t thought that her appearance mattered—until she found the opposite sex’s eyes were no longer magnetically drawn to her now that she had a beaky nose and large butt.