Chapter 1.1*

Dr. Dean Codle had always hated Dr. Jack Newt.  In fact, in the bottom drawer of his desk was a piece of paper with a list of reasons scribbled on it -- it included several different kinds of ink and was creased from overuse.  This list included:

• A private research lab
• 50-minute coffee breaks
• A wife
• The soft-serve machine in his lab
• His rugged and well-chiseled features even for man ten years older than me.
• His nice house in Pineranch

Right now, Dean was coveting Jack's soft serve machine.  When he wanted soft serve, he had to go down three flights of stairs to the main cafeteria.  Once there he's have to put up with surly cafeteria workers and a line that was as long as the intestinal tract of all of the executives of Synex Industries.  He was jonesing for a vanilla fix and instead he fumed under his fume hood.

At the top of the list, though, was Dean's A#1 reason for hating Jack Newt.  Newt worked on the federally funded TiExp project that dealt with, of all things, time travel.  Codle didn't know much (how he got to be a doctor of Physics, Chemistry & Biology is another story), but he did know that it involved the mathematical theory of choice and its extrapolation to cover time.  He knew that Newt had made many breakthroughs and got on the cover of the Science Department newsletter three times, whereas Codle had only ever appeared in it once when asked about Synex corporation president Will Ashwood's decision to require work time on Saturdays.  He had answered: "I don't care as long as it applies to everyone especially that imbecile Jack Newt."  This was taken to be a joke, but Newt has never forgotten the statement.  Newt was on the top floor of the building (which was technically a higher floor than his superiors) in the coveted Einstein Bundesspielen Gesundheit Gehen und der Flotsam and Jetsam wing (coveted because that's where the girls track team practiced).  Codle, on the other hand, was stuck in urine analysis, which is not exactly soft serve, in an office which over looks a brick wall.

There was a loud sound that awoke Dean from his jealousy-induced stupor.  He glanced around the lab  The view was still uninteresting.  The counter tops were still black with line stains near the water faucets.  The walls were still white in a not white sort of way.  His office was a little cramped but he had spread a lot of stuff out since his lab mate Dr. Peter Zyczyzyzcz had disappeared in the jungles of Africa collecting samples of mold for an experiment on sleep apnea.  Dean has tried to take over more space, but that would require cleaning up Peter's mess and Dean didn't know what was part of his experiment and what was just plain mold.  Urine samples dotted the tabletops and everyday at around this time Dean would start to feel himself regretting that his job consisted of running test after test on people's pee.  He was about to start his 349th consecutive day of this when the loud sound happened again and this time Dean recognized it.  It was the yellow-brown telephone sitting on his desk.  As his mind slipped into the current moment in the time-space continuum, it was ringing (the phone that is).

"Hello?" said Dean, still a little groggy from his one-two punch of jealousy and self-induced misery.
"Hello, Dr. Codle," barked the voice of department chair Raymond Meyerhem. "I have to see you in my office immediately.  Something important has come up and I don't want you to find out from the employee newsletter."
"I'll be there as soon has I can," Dean replied.
"Now!!" said Meyerhem in just the right way that you could hear the second exclamation point.
"All right, all right.  I'm coming. I'm coming."
The slamming receiver resounded in his ear.  Dean thought about the man and how much he would like to tie him up in a small sedan, lock the doors and shovel manure in through the opened windows.  Dean smiled a little too wide and then set off for Ray's office.  Just as he closed his door he opened it again.  He walked over to a hotplate and removed a sample of boiling urine.  He knew from experience that he didn't want to return to office if he'd have left that on for too much longer.  It took three years for his lab to smell normal after the last incident.
"That means I haven't been promoted in six years," thought Dean.  Gulp.  Six-year itch -- it's practically a Synex policy.  Six years and you're out, somewhere else.  Gulp.  "OK, here I go."

*Chapters are too high a level of aggregation for a blog, so multiple parts of chapters will be included as need be.

Comments

[Will Ashwood]

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