Chapter 1

Oh, Boy, how do you begin a story like this?

Back in May of 1939, when I had just turned fifteen, and was a high school junior, they called me a savant.

I wasn’t, just very smart and I would be finishing high school in only two years. Neither my mother, nor the school understood why I was so smart, I certainly couldn’t explain it

During a History class, Principal Stephens walked in with a gentleman and said, “Connor Williams, please come here?”

I got up and stepped forwards...

“Bring your books please, Mr. Williams,” I was told. I got a smile from a pretty girl. I think her name was Betty something.

“Come on, hurry up,” I was told and left the room with them both.

The gentleman excused the principal and took me to a school bench, motioning me to sit down.

“Connor, my name is Wilbur Evans. I work with a very secret department within the United States of America. We have a unique problem, and we are looking around the United States for the brightest young people of your generation ... Does this interest you?”

“Of course, it does. Can I tell my mother about this?”

“NO, you cannot. Nobody must know. Is that going to be a problem, Connor?”

“Boy oh boy ... I can’t tell anybody? I have a best friend and a potential girlfriend. Can I, at least, tell them?”

“This is going to be difficult enough,” he said to me. “You will still leave for school, but three blocks away, we will pick you up and get you to where you will be working. We will feed you, if you’d like, and get you home.”

“What if somebody telephones for me, or my mother needs me?”

“We will deal with that as things happen. Go back to class and we will start this tomorrow. Bring your usual things with you and we will get you started on your personal project.”

“My own personal project, can I ask what it’s about?” I remarked.

“What’s your favorite school subject, Connor?” he asked.

That was easy, and I answered, “Chemistry, Mr. Evans, I want to discover something important in my lifetime. Gee whiz, this is 1939 Sir, I’m very certain we haven’t found everything to be found, chemically speaking. Do I have a deadline or a budget to worry about?”

“No, Connor, but I am afraid that whatever you might discover will likely be turned over to other older gentlemen. We can’t tell the world that a fifteen-year-old boy discovered anything, or we all would be laughed at. You don’t want to be laughed at, do you, Connor?”

“I guess I understand that,” I answered. “It’s not important who discovers it, just that it gets discovered. Drs. Perrier and Segre together discovered Technetium just two years ago, but it was predicted back in 1871 by Mendeleev, but was called something different, but I don’t recall what.”