no oversight? Well, that would go a long, long way to assuage one's
wounded ego, wouldn't it? People would kill for that kind of funding,
and rightly so.
Money would get you through times of no Nobel better than a Nobel would
get you through times of no money, that was the cold truth.
With half a billion in his pocket, he could thumb his nose at the
journals, take his time to do whatever he damned well pleased, and when
he was ready, then they'd come begging, by God! Because his theories
did work after all, didn't they?
True, he didn't want to take the credit for it just now, given the mode
and manner in which he had finally proved himself correct, but someday
it would be his to claim. Perhaps he would hire the Goodyear blimp and
have it fly back and forth across the country with lights flashing and
blazing it out for all to see:
'I told you so!'
He looked at his watch. He would go home, spend the day with Shannon,
then catch a plane back to SeaT ac for the flight to Washington, D.C.
After the second and third tests, the events would surely be public,
and it was of primary importance that he be prepared for that. He was
one of the sharper knives in the drawer, and he knew that it was not
enough to be smart, you had to be clever as well.
Smart, clever, a beautiful young wife who thought the sun rose and set
in his shadow, and rich--he had it all but the last, and that was
coming, a mere matter of a few weeks or months. When you got right
down to it, how important was academic recognition compared to those?
He could fund research if he wanted! Be a foundation unto himself!
Hah!
Life was good--and it was about to get better.
Washington, D.C.
'We're going to Oregon,' Tyrone Howard said. He grinned.
Nadine Harris, who at thirteen was the same age as Tyrone, returned his
smile in a larger, white-against-chocolate version.
'Exemplary, Tyrone. Congratulations!'
They were at the soccer field at their school, where they had gone to
practice throwing boomerangs.
'No,' he said, 'we are going to Oregon. My dad, my mom, me, and
you.'
She blinked at him.
'What?'
'I asked if you could go. My parents said it was okay.
We can both enter the tourney. I might even let you win.'
She laughed.
'Let me win? In your dreams, funny boy.
Last I looked, my best hang time was seventeen seconds better than your
best. Your 'rang comes down, you're packed up and halfway home before
mine even apexes.'
'That was then, honey chile, this is now.' He waved his backpack.
'It came?' She knew right away what he was talking about. That was
one of the things he liked about her. She wasn't the most beautiful
girl in the world, but she was athletic, and she was very quick.
