CHAPTER SIX
David poured a cup of coffee and collapsed exhausted into his favorite seat at the breakfast table. This was his spot. Here the warmth of morning sun angled just right while he would read the happenings of the world, learning of strife overseas, stock prices, and the weather. Someday newspapers would disappear forever, replaced entirely by tablets and phones. But the boy had grown up in a home with one always on the table and the man he became dearly missed that golden age, lamenting that future generations would never have the funny pages to break up the negativity of the news. He stared down at the stark and barren table.
The sun wasn’t in its usual spot either, resting higher in the sky due to the lateness of the day. He hadn’t slept-in for too long to remember, but it felt good even if the setting of his spot was off. The previous night had been an ordeal of questions from campus administrators, police, and firefighters, with everyone wanting to know if he had deliberately set fire to the lab. That anxiety had bit into the night, filling it with more questions he was asking himself. He had awakened curious how he’d been able to sleep at all.
Brooke stood over the stovetop, pouring batter onto a griddle. Since the morning was mostly gone, he was surprised she cooked pancakes.
In a non-accusing voice, he asked, “Where is it?”
She didn’t even look up when she answered, “Where’s what?”
“The newspaper, hon. You always have it out and waiting, open to the funny pages.”
“Oh, that,” she replied, “there wasn’t anything funny about today’s news, so I threw it out.”
“How bad?”
“You’re a smart man, David. How bad do you think it is?” Her dry tone did nothing to hide irritation.
“Let me guess, MIT Professor Burns Down Laboratory in Drunken Rage, bad?”
She replied, “Try, Vengeful Arsonist Torches MIT Laboratory Over Halted Funding, bad.”
“Ouch. They didn’t even add, ‘allegedly,’ and jumped straight to assumed guilt.”
She whirled around. “Seriously, David! What were you thinking, getting drunk and forcing your experiments?”
“I don’t know,” he answered, “I guess I wasn’t. I just needed to know how close I was before they pulled the plug.”
“And now? Facing possible charges?”
“Now I know I was right. The experiment succeeded.”
Brooke froze with spatula in the air as she stared back, waiting for his explanation. When he said nothing more she asked, “And how do you know that?”
“I saw her, Brooke. Felicima lit the fire.”
“How,” she asked, “did the monkey light the fire?”
Starting with the blast of air, he gave her all the details. When he had finished, he could tell that she wasn’t convinced.
“You’re describing pyrokinesis.”
“Yes,” he replied.
“That isn’t what the experiment was designed for.”
“Exactly.” He brimmed with excitement as he spoke, “Can you believe we almost destroyed Felicima and the rest of the batch? We sought telepathy but discovered something greater!” He abruptly fell silent. Crestfallen, even. When he spoke again it was in a whisper. “None of that matters now since they’re gone. Destroyed.”
Brooke urged reason. “What are you doing? You’ve always been specific about your theory that the gamma waves would render any telepathy as peaceful or it wouldn’t be controllable. Fire-flinging monkeys are the opposite of that.”
“Yes,” he replied, “but that was before Dean Marshall cancelled our funding.” The look on her face caused him to pause, reconsidering his choice of words. “Honey, listen. Just the fact that our experiments resulted in telekinesis proves my theory holds water. I don’t want fire-flinging monkeys, or fire-spewing people for that matter, but they prove we can reengineer the human race to have useful abilities.”
“Useful is a broad term, David.”
He decided to change the subject, “Thank you for making me pancakes.”
“They aren’t for you.”
“If they aren’t for me, then who?” He barely uttered the question when someone rang the buzzer. He raised his eyes expectantly toward Brooke, but she avoided answering. David walked across the living room and opened the door to find a downtrodden Sam.
“Thanks, doc,” the boy muttered as he slinked past his boss. He headed straight for the table and settled into David’s favorite seat.
“Sam, that’s my…,” Brooke cut his words off with an icy glare. “Never mind.” Not wanting to sit facing the sun, he leaned against the counter. “You know you could have stayed home today.”
“I invited him,” Brooke responded with finality in her voice, “and his visit has nothing to do with you.” She placed a supportive hand on the boy’s shoulder and spoke, “Sam, tell David what happened.”
“Mi-Jung isn’t coming.”
“Oh, Sam,” he responded. “I’m so sorry. What happened?”
“The government denied her student visa. It turns out her father had ties to the north from contracts he’s worked. With the new travel ban, she can’t come.”
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“What travel ban?”
“For God’s sake, David. You’ve been so engrossed in the project you haven’t paid attention to anything outside the lab.”
“I’m sorry, I’ve been under a lot of pressure. What travel ban?”
“The president issued a ban on all incoming travel from Southeast Asia. North Korean dissidents have been stirring up trouble.”
Sam chimed in, “Several North Korean agents were caught in a sting in Japan. They had plans to firebomb the University of Tokyo.”
“What does this have to do with Mi-Jung?”
“Since they were disguised as South Korean students, all student visas have been denied until they sort out who’s an agent and who’s legit.”
“I’m sorry, Sam. I wish there was something I could do to help.”
Sam looked up with glassy eyes, red from a sleepless night of worry and emotion of his own. He asked, “Did you burn the lab, David?”
“No. I most certainly did not.” Andalon pulled out a chair and sat across from his young assistant. He would have preferred his usual spot at the table, but he made do. “I wouldn’t do that. I’ve invested too much of myself.”
“The campus police think you did. Why were you even there?”
David sighed. “I was trying to force a result... and I drank a little too much.”
“A lot too much,” Brooke argued.
“Okay, a lot too much,” he shot his wife a sidelong glance, she had returned to the griddle to flip the pancakes. “I gave Felicima a shot of epinephrine,” David said.
“You shouldn’t have,” the boy responded. “She’s been showing intense aggression toward Batch Alpha and is always agitated.”
“No, I shouldn’t have,” he agreed, “but I felt I had to do something.”
Sam mulled the professor’s words, then asked, “How did the fire start?”
Brooke turned from the stove and pointed her spatula, “Yes, Doctor Andalon, tell your graduate assistant how the fire started.”
“I threw a bit of a tantrum and threw some glass around. All of the monkeys were upset, but I think the epinephrine I gave Felicima stirred some abilities.”
Sam appeared skeptical but asked, “Like what?”
“First a blast of wind pushed Brooke and me against the wall, then, while we were dazed, she somehow worked pyrokinesis and started throwing fireballs.”
The boy didn’t laugh. “Dr. Andalon,” he said, “don’t tell anyone that story. They’ll put you in the loony bin.”
Brooke chimed in, “Exactly! David, don’t tell anyone that story.”
“But that’s what we’ve been hoping to prove! We’ve searched for years for signs of telepathic connection between subjects.”
“But pyrokinesis?” Sam frowned. “In your dissertation you suggested that telekinesis as a side effect of telepathy would only manifest in variant forms of air manipulation.”
“Exactly! And she created enough wind to slam us into the wall.” Both he and Brooke fingered their bruised heads at the memory. “I must have been wrong about the exclusion of fire.”
Sam wasn’t convinced. “But we’ll never know because the lab and Felicima are destroyed.” He shook his head, “I’m sorry, Dr. Andalon, but as soon as the semester is over in December, I’m returning to Seoul and Mi-Jung.”
Brooke placed a heaping plate of flapjacks in front of the boy, who doused it thoroughly with syrup, hellbent on drowning his sorrows with the sweet comfort only Mrs. Butterworth could provide. Brooke hugged him tight then turned to leave. David started to make another plea but, before he could open his mouth, Brooke’s phone rang.
“Hello, Jake. Yeah, I called them about an hour ago but Dad won’t leave. What?” She sat in silence, listening to her brother and nodding along. “You can’t be serious. You want us all to fly out there? Jake, it’s short notice!”
David sat up at that. Jake Braston was a high ranking general for the United States Air Force. If there meant they were to fly to meet Jake, then there was Germany.
“That’s not possible. No, David has had some issues down at the university. What? Oh.” She shot her husband a glare.
“You’ve already heard about that.” She paused, “Yes, I’ll put him on.” She tossed the phone instead of handing it to him, then turned off the burners and went upstairs without bothering with the dishes.
David held up the receiver, “Hello, Jake.”
“Hello!” came the reply. “I saw on the news what happened to your lab. What kind of trouble are you in? How can I help?” Jake had always tried to play big brother, even when they were frat brothers.
“Nothing I can’t dig out of.”
“Nonsense. Brooke sounds pissed off, mate! Tell me everything.”
David took a deep breath and then spilled it all—from the funding cut to the burned-out lab. When he had finished the line was dead quiet. “Jake? Are you there?”
“Yeah,” was the delayed reply. “I’m here. Tell me more about the gust of wind that blew you backward.”
“What about it?”
“Which group of monkeys did it come from?”
“A subject from Batch Bravo.”
“That’s impossible,” Jake replied, “What were the others doing at the time?”
David was dumbfounded. He had raved about his theories to his roommates all through college and even into graduate school. It was all he had ever wanted to talk about, but they never wanted to listen. He had no idea that Jake had paid any attention whatsoever, much less would decide what was possible and what wasn’t.
“I was so focused on the subject that I hadn’t paid them attention. They were screaming, I guess.”
“Why were they screaming, Dave?”
“I had thrown a glass bottle across the room and was yelling at Brooke.”
“Batch Alpha’s the primary study group?”
“Yeah, that’s right.”
“What generation?”
David froze. “Jake, what are you doing? Why are you suddenly so interested in my research?”
After a pause Brooke’s brother responded, “I need you and your entire team to fly out here right away. I’ll pay if that’s what it takes.” And, as in their college fraternity days, David realized you could never say no to Jake Braston.
“We’ll meet you in Frankfurt, Jake, but we do have a slight problem with one of our team members.”
“Just tell me what you need,” came the reply.
“One of my student assistants got caught up in this travel ban and is now stuck in Seoul. Her name is Park Mi-Jung. I’ll need her there, as well.”
“Done.”
Dr. Andalon hung up the phone and turned to face a wide-eyed Sam. He was about to speak when Brooke came down the stairs with her overnight bag. She set it by the door.
She asked, “What time’s the flight?”
His phone announced a notification and held it up for her to see. Jake worked fast and the reservations were already made. “Two hours. Pack fast, Sam. Logan Airport may be ten minutes away, but security’s going to be hell.” The boy left the rest of his uneaten pancakes behind and ran out the door. David settled down in his favorite seat and picked up the fork. He noticed Brooke watching and asked, “What?”
“Those are Sam’s.”
“They’ll be cold by the time he gets back, hon. Besides, I think I just redeemed myself in regard to him.”