Fantasy Lake Jubilee
Fantasy Lake Jubilee
It was all too much: the pandemic, the divorce, the kids, the sciatic pain in her right leg, the Russians, the climate, and the schmuck in the White House. And now she’d been told she wouldn’t be getting tenure at the university chemistry department. Well, to hell with reality, Dr. Virginia Campbell thought, taking a long hard toke on one of the joints she had bought at the dispensary. What’s reality done for me lately? It was time to escape, sit back, get stoned, and forget the incessant welter of everyday life.
Within minutes she felt the weed take effect as the warm tingling sensation rose through her arms and made her cheeks flush. She closed her eyes and started to dream. The next moment she was out on the lake, the one she’d gone to as a child in New Hampshire. The water was azure blue with only a few clouds in the sky. She floated out, gently paddling the water with her hands.
The dream continued. Suddenly a molecule appeared and sat next to her on the lake. It was a funny RNA protean like nothing she’d ever seen before, just laying there on the water, bothering no one, minding its own business. Two nitrogen atoms seemed to be mocking a carbon atom that appeared to be having trouble breaking free from another carbon atom. She started to laugh. Then all the atoms formed a chorus line, kicking their valence electrons into the air, way into the air, and into a shell where they didn’t belong, making quantum leaps and displaying inordinate amounts of bizarre energy as the chords of Mozart’s Jupiter filled the air.
Never knew electrons could be so animated!
Then the phosphorus atoms’ electrons joined in, doing the same thing. It was funny, very funny. Very, very funny! It was just too much. She couldn’t stop laughing.
But wait a minute. That’s not supposed to happen! Electrons weren’t supposed to behave that way. They’re in the wrong shell. Is this something new? Insane!
Suddenly she awoke. She had to get it down before the dream faded, and it was gone forever. But when she ran to her laptop, she realized that it would take too long. The dream might just disappear while the computer was booting up, so she took a pen and a piece of paper and drew the string of molecules. Impossible, she thought, laughing as she pushed the pen across the page. Then, when she was finished drawing the molecule, she drew a funny face around it, held it up, and started to laugh. It was so entertaining, but could it work? Doubtful, very doubtful. Just silly!
It was just a dream, but with the sound of Mozart still in her ears, she turned the laptop on anyway and entered the altered RNA parameters and coordinates into the Chem-Quasar App, which was linked to a supercomputer through the cloud and to every chemist’s laptop at the university. She waited, expecting nothing, but within a few minutes, the completed molecule appeared in three dimensions; then, an alarm went off, and a light blue light lit up the screen. Shit, it worked! It really worked! Compatibility and interactions started to appear on the right side of the screen.
This was something new, something very new!
Even though it was four in the morning, scientists all over the campus got out of bed, looked at their computers, and scratched their heads; it was Campbell! What the hell was she doing at this hour of the morning? When they rubbed the sleep from their eyes, they saw it and thought it was a prank. But no, it was real. It was utterly authentic and something very new.
Every chemist, grad student, and undergrad assistant was packed into the laboratory by eight. Even some physicists, who weren’t supposed to be there, showed up. Then, finally, she arrived, and when she did, the whole laboratory erupted into applause. Then Dr. Strausman, the head of the department, walked into the laboratory. He was a tall man in his late sixties with a mane of white hair and horned-rimed glasses, wearing an expression that seemed to question everyone and everything around him.
“What the hell is this, Dr. Campbell?”
“Oh, just a little something I’ve been working on,” she said, giving him a mischievous smile.
“Well, let’s take a look at your ‘little something,’” he said, staring at the computer screen. There was a hushed atmosphere in the room as he peered into the monitor.
“Yup, you’ve got something here, all right!”
He turned to the rest of the chemists and said, “OK, people! What are we waiting for? Let’s do the lab work on this. It shouldn’t take more than two or three days to complete. Then we’ll see if Dr. Campbell’s concoction here really works.”
There was a flurry of activity as the chemists set up flasks, beakers, retorts, and tubes and talked excitedly about “Campbell’s molecule.”
“Let’s go into my office,” Straussman said, breaking into a smile she had never seen before.
They sat in his office, and he leaned back, put his hands behind his head, and asked her, “How did you come up with it anyhow?”
“Oh, I was working on the chemistry of THC, and the computer simulation just sort of suggested it.”
“Why you mean Dr. Leary’s hypothesis! How astonishingly clever! Well, whatever it was, you did some damn good chemistry, Virginia. Congratulations!”
“So, you think it will work?”
“Of course, we’ll have to see what the experiments tell us, but yes, it looks good to me.”
This was precisely what she had hoped he would say. And if ever there was a time to ask him about her appointment at the university, she knew this was it.
“I wanted to ask you about tenure. You know I was turned down, don’t you?”
“Tenure? If you don’t get the Nobel Prize, there is no justice in the universe! But, of course, you’ll get tenure, and if I have anything to say about it, a full professorship too!”
She thanked him and left the office elated, feeling like she had just won the Boston Marathon. Her lab assistant, Brian, met her as she left the office, and they gave one another a high-five.
“So this is something else,” he said, “really unbelievable!”
“What, you didn’t think I had the chops for this?”
“No, of course….”
“I know, I’m just giving you a hard time. Looks like you’ll be stuck with me for another year.”
“You got tenure?”
“So, it would seem. But let’s see what the lab results look like before we start counting our chickens.”
“Oh, it will pan out. I’m sure,” Dr. Cambell said, accompanying her out of the building.
“I don’t know; it’s all a little too fantastic.”
She remembered when she was thirteen and made gunpowder in her basement. She tried to sell it to some of the kids in the neighborhood. When they attached a fuse and lit it, though, it didn’t explode but just fizzled. They called her “Fizzle Bomb” after that. It was the last experiment she would attempt until her senior year in high school, and then it was just a boring distillation experiment that only earned her third place in the science fair.
A flock of graduate students followed her onto the sidewalk in front of the laboratory. They talked excitedly to one another, and before Marjory got into her car, one of them came up to her.
“Dr. Campbell, according to the Chem-Quasar app, this RNA could pair with an N232 virus and possibly render it harmless.”
Another student chimed in, “and the proteins in several of the leukocytes. So you could be talking about a therapy for Leukemia.”
Virginia smiled and said, “We’ll just have to see what the lab work tells us.”
Before the students could ask another question, she got in her car and drove off.
An occasion of happiness; that’s what this is!
But the occasion didn’t last long. Her ex-husband was waiting for her when she returned home. He stood at her door, looking angry and impatient with his arms folded in front of him.
“You know, you live in your own little world, don’t you?” he said, looking at her as if she were a difficult child about to be sent to her room.
“Well, whose world am I supposed to live in, yours?” she shot back.
“I need the support payment,” he said, “you’re three weeks late!”
“I’ll get it and bring it out to you. Wait a minute,” Virginia said as she turned and went into her apartment, slamming the door behind her.
She returned and handed him a check. He took it and stuffed it into his shirt pocket.
“You missed your daughter’s recital last night and your son’s basketball game on Saturday. Just so you know!”
“Shit!”
“Yeah, that’s right: shit! You need to get a grip. Otherwise, I’ll petition the court, and you’re not going to see the kids at all. And quite frankly, I don’t think they’d mind at all.”
“You can’t do that!” she said.
“We’ll see,” he said as he turned and walked to his car.
Son of a bitch! He’s as useless as wings on a moose, but he’s a genius at ruining my day!
Before she could open the front door, her next-door neighbor appeared. In her late fifties, she was a short, stout woman who wore a beige pants suit and a red, white, and blue New England Patriots cap. Virginia knew she was quite capable of talking about nothing at all for hours on end and winced when she handed her a rolled-up newspaper.
“Looks like they gave me your paper.”
Virginia took the paper and thanked her, then turned to go into her house, hoping that that would be the end of it. But it wasn’t. Virginia knew she was about to be waylaid.
“Looks like your ex showed up, huh?”
“Looks like he did.”
“I have to say, he looked really pissed!”
It would be so nice if people could just mind their own business!.
“Oh, he was pretty angry, all right!”
“That’s the way they are, you know. Mine looked like that all the time—that is until I hit him with a restraining order.”
The restraining order, the kids! Just what she needed to hear.
“Look, I have to go. I’ve got a call to make.
“So that’s the way it is. There’s always something to do. I know the other day, I thought I was finished for the day, and then before you know it….”
“Really, I’ve got to go.”
“So we’ll talk again later. I got to tell you about my trip to Florida. It was really something else! We had a ball--my sister Susan and me. We went to Disney and had so much fun, you wouldn’t believe it.”
“Right! Disney. OK, I’ve got to go. Really!” with that, she turned and went into the house, leaving her neighbor looking slightly befuddled.
When she got inside, she threw the newspaper on the couch, went into the kitchen, and poured herself a drink. As she finished her glass of sherry, it hit her again: the kids! Christ, he had to bring that up, didn’t he? Son of a bitch!
Then she remembered what Strausman had said: the awards, the notoriety, the honors, the reporters, and the local paper. There would be all kinds of statements to be made. Perhaps even an appearance on TV. And what about the teenagers she grew up with? So what do you think of Fizzle-Bomb now? And then she thought of her kids. The kids would love it, and who knows? Maybe it would change things— “good work, Mom, you did it! We knew you would!’ An occasion of happiness.
She picked up the diagram she had drawn of the molecule. She would have to frame it. People would ask her about it, and she would tell them. They would have a good laugh. Wonderful!
The doorbell rang and broke through her thoughts like a wrecking ball. A FedEx delivery man handed her an envelope and asked her to sign for it. When she finished signing the IPad, she ripped it open and read the letter it contained: her car payment was long overdue, and the finance company threatened repossession.
Shit, just what I need!
She tossed the letter and the envelope onto the sofa, poured herself another drink, and remembered her molecule.
Well, screw the bank. In a short while, that will all be irrelevant!
She decided that the world was divided into two halves: her ex, the bank, Fizzle-Bomb, and her nosy next-door neighbor. But there was also the molecule, the lake, her kids when they heard about the molecule, the notoriety, and the awards. So it was definitely time to have another joint, to enjoy a bit of euphoria before whatever else came along.
Within minutes she was back out on the lake--no molecules this time, just the clear blue lake and the sky above with its huge powder-puff clouds. She could feel the fresh, clear water against her skin and the sun in her face, everything exactly as it should be--the complete ecstasy of a brilliant moment.
She woke up late the following day, still thinking of the lake, but then
realized it was time to check in on the lab, see how the experiments were going, and see how Brian and his team were doing.
When she arrived at the lab, she noticed very little activity. This seemed odd since there was so much work to be done on a species this complex.
Only a few grad students were sitting around, drinking coffee and chatting. She was about to ask them what was happening when Brian approached her. He looked strangely uncomfortable, and she was about to ask him what was wrong. But before she could, he said, “Dr. Strausman wants to talk to you in his office.”
“About what? What is it?”
“He’ll explain,” he said, looking at the floor.
Not good, not good at all.
She walked down the hall to Strausman’s office and knocked on the door.
“Come in, Doctor Campbell,” he said, “please have a seat.”
It was now Doctor Campbell when it had been Virginia the day before.
Not good, not good at all!
She noticed immediately that his former gruff but avuncular look had been replaced by a somber business-like expression. He hesitated, took a deep breath, and looked directly at her.
“I’m sorry, Dr. Campbell, but our IT people did a scan and found that a virus infected the Chem-Quasar app. The lab work won’t pan out. The IT people said the firewall just wasn’t strong enough. It looks like a virus hit the Chem-Quasar app.
“But I saw it. We all did; it was real!”
“I have to admit it looked good, but it was just a fantasy created by the computer. I guess that’s what makes artificial intelligence artificial!”
“I guess so,” she said bitterly as if she had just swallowed a glass of vinegar.
“It created false results.” He went on, “all the parameters were wrong. The protean could not exist. In fact, it wasn’t really a protean at all.
“But I saw it; it was a unique protean!”
“It looked good to me too. It was some damn good chemistry, Doctor. So I’ve decided to extend your appointment for next year. Maybe we can reconsider tenure then.”
She thanked him and walked out of the office as if she were in a fog.
“I’m sorry, Virginia,” Brian said.
“Damn it!” Virginia said, “at least he’s letting me come back next year.”
“All right! Don’t worry; we’ll be working on something new in no time.”
“Perhaps,” Virginia said and walked out to her car.
Her neighbor was waiting for her when she returned to her apartment.
Oh no! Not this again.!
“Hey, you look like you been through the wringer. Hope you didn’t get the virus.”
Virginia wanted to smack her.
“Will you give it a rest, for Christ’s sake!”
“Jesus, I was just saying….”
“Well, save it for some other time, OK!”
She walked into her apartment, slamming the door behind her. When she got in, she sat on the sofa, picked up the drawing of the molecule, then ripped it into pieces.
She decided to go on her computer and do a search. She typed in the lake’s name, and there it was: serene and wonderful! They called it The Lake of the Moon. It was a foothill of the White Mountains, and a steep hill was in the distance. She closed in on the image. A small beach with white sand was surrounded by a slight mist partially covering the sylvan grove of evergreens behind it. She wondered if the water was too cold for a swim. Nonsense, it was early summer; the water would be just right. There was another image on the computer, the lake at night. A vast white silver disk lay on the lake, reflecting the moon. The idea was so inviting that it beckoned you to dive into the lake and swim out to the moon’s reflection.
And why the hell not? It wouldn’t be more than a three-hour drive.
Virginia packed her suitcase and was about to bring her computer when she thought of the molecule. She walked out the front door and left the laptop behind.
As soon as she closed the door behind her, her neighbor appeared. She wondered if her neighbor had some kind of sixth sense that signaled her when someone was leaving their apartment.
“Hey, back out again so soon, huh?” her neighbor said, chewing on a cruller.
“Yeah!”
“Where you off to this time?”
“The lake in New Hampshire,” Virginia said.
“Which one?”
“The Lake of the Moon in the White Mountains.”
“Oh, that’ll be lovely this time of year.”
“I suppose so,” Virginia said, throwing her suitcase into the back seat.
“Oh, it will be.”
“I suppose.”
“How long you going to be gone for?” her neighbor asked, taking another bite of her cruller.
“I have no idea,” Virginia said, getting into the car’s front seat. “I’ve got to go. I’m in a bit of a hurry.”
“Oh, no need to rush. It’ll still be there when you arrive.”
“We’ll see.”
“Well, have a good one,” her neighbor said. “Sometimes it’s nice just to get away from it all once in a while.”
Virginia looked at her neighbor as if the woman had just reconciled quantum mechanics with general relativity.
“Sometimes it is,” Virginia said as she watched her neighbor finish her cruller.
She turned on the ignition, put the car into drive, and pulled away, leaving it all behind for a while.
