Chapter 7

My body has gotten used to waking up an hour before my alarm while receiving some kind of sexual pleasure. I wake 50 minutes before my alarm with a painful erection. I ignore it and watch Dahlia sleep.

I don’t hear Kim, but when the next person arrives, I can hear Kim profusely complaining about Dahlia taking her morning to wake me up. I want to be here for Dahlia when she wakes up, but I have to defuse the situation. I’m careful not to wake her as I slip out of bed and put on some pants.

I head for the kitchen, where I heard the complaining coming from. As I get there, I see Kim standing there looking at me, red-faced with anger and arms folded over her chest.

Nobody dares say, good morning. I tell both of them, “Follow me outside. After what she has been through, we can’t have any outbursts waking her up.” Thankfully, that is enough to get Kim to question her anger and follow me in silence. Moira follows close behind her.

I walk us out behind the bike garage. I don’t know how to say it, so I just blurt it out, “Dahlia was physically, sexually and mentally abused from the age of 2 until she was 13. The events of the last few days caused it to all pour out of her, and she confessed to me last night.”

Kim stands stunned, not knowing what to say. Moira cries out, “Oh my God, is she alright?”

“She will be. I had to pry, so it was harder on her than it needed to be. She just needs some rest. We already have a way forward. Cover for me at the office. I want her to wake up in my arms. She needs to start healing, and having me abandon her isn’t what she needs.”

Kim finds her voice, saying, “What the hell are you doing here then? Get your ass back in there. We will leave you some breakfast.”

“You can tell Carol but nobody else. I want you girls to treat her like I never told you. The last thing she needs is people acting like they feel sorry for her. It will just remind her of all the bad that happened. You three need to know, so you can cover for her when she needs it. You don’t have to hide from her the fact that you cover for her, but don’t bring it up either.”

Moira looks at me in frustration and commands, “Go, now.”

“Ok, I’m gone.”

I fall back asleep with Dahlia in my arms. When I wake, I open my eyes to see her face inches from mine, staring back at me. I am not expecting what comes out of her mouth. She asks, “What is Mensa?”

“Where did that come from?”

“Last night you said Mensa rated a genius as 130. What is Mensa?”

“It is a club you are going to join.”

“What sort of club is it?”

“One with an entrance exam. MENSA gives you a mock-IQ test. If you score 130 or better, you are in. They have a library of thoughts written by its members. It is a way for genius to share ideas without wasting money on school.

“School isn’t a waste of money. Well, it is, and it isn’t. You need the accreditation, and you do learn there. Unfortunately, it is geared for those slightly below average. That way they can reach the highest number of people. But, that means teaching people to think below their means. Ipso facto, it makes smart people dumb.”

“How can you say that?”

“Trust me, when you go to university you will see it too. For the most part, only engineering degrees and law degrees teach you to think. The rest teach you to turn the brain off. It isn’t the same for normals, so they don’t notice. For a genius, it is painful. Why do you think I refuse to go to my university classes?”

I was expecting her to be in a bad mood and that she would need somebody with her all day. I don’t see any of that. In some ways, I am concerned that she is hiding her pain, but I convince myself that isn’t the case, and she is starting to heal like a child. We joke around and hang out until noon when I decide it is time for us to head back into work.

The first thing I do when we get to work is phone Fred. I tell him, “You will want to go over the names of graduates from UVic again. I’m about to dump another big project on your back, and you will need the help.”

“What is it this time?”

“Have you ever heard of an ekranoplan?”

“Never”

“You have heard of a WIG, Wing In Ground effect boat.”

“After the academic decathlon, that is all Elsa talked about for almost two months.”

“An ekranoplan is a WIG that is shaped like a snubbed wing airplane. I want one about 185 ft long with a dry weight of 150 metric tons and maximum displacement of 250 with a 10 man crew.”

The Russians have a similar problem as Canada when it comes to having too much coastline to defend. As an answer, they built the Lun-class ekranoplan. It was designed in the 70s, and the first one launched in 1987. It has a 15 man crew, a dry weight of 286 ton and is armed with 6 anti-ship missiles. The missile is a P-270 Moskit. The warhead is 35% larger than a Harpoon, the missile used by Canadian and US navies. The Moskit requires a much larger platform to launch from, which is why our ekranoplan will be considerably smaller and have the addition of a naval gun. I am also thinking of starting a passenger ferry service from Victoria to Seattle and possibly other places along the west coast. Instead of days driving to get to southern California, it would take a few hours by WIG ferry.

“That is a tall order. UVic doesn’t teach aerospace engineering, and I have no experience with aircraft.”

“You better get Hellen to find you an aerospace engineer. In this case, I’m not sure if experience is an asset. There are a lot of things an experienced aerospace engineer will have to unlearn to make a boat. I think you would be better off to get a kid fresh out of school and teach him the basics of boat engineering.”

“You may be right. I don’t have time to teach some kid.”

“Get Elsa to do it. She is competent, even if she technically doesn’t have a degree. Besides, you know she would kill you if you didn’t let her in on this project. She would likely get university credits with this on her school application.”

As soon as I get off the phone with Fred, I see Elsa and Alva are working at one of the desks in the outer office. Alva answers the phone and hands it to Elsa. Ten minutes later, Elsa barges into my office, charging up to me. She kisses me on the lips and hugs me like a vice. I just let her thank me and wait for her to speak.

When she does, she says, “I can’t believe you are letting me design a WIG. I suppose I should tell you that I’ve decided. Yes, I will accept your scholarship and 10-year contract, even if it means I don’t get to stay until the end of the WIG project. You keep giving me new challenges, and I love it here...”

She goes on for a while. She is too excited, and I don’t want to interrupt her. I do see Carol in the shop, and she isn’t impressed with how I am letting Elsa hold me while we talk. I break our embrace, but let Elsa continue rambling.

She finishes with, “ ... and we have pretty well finished the trailer design. Come take a look.” She grabs my hand and pulls me over to the desk they are working at.

I take a longer look than I need to, pretending to be impressed. Some obvious safety issues need addressing, but I can’t always give negative feedback. Given their knowledge and experience, the girls did an excellent job. I tell them, “I like the lightweight and simple design. There is one thing you need to change on the stroller version. It is supposed to be a safe way to transport your toddler. The canopy support needs to be a roll cage. I don’t want the child to smash his head on the pavement if a car hits it, and it rolls over. That also means the canopy has to be far enough away from the seat that the kid’s head can’t touch it, and the child’s seat needs to be the same as a child’s car seat, including a five-point harness. I like how you placed the storage area to help with trailer stability. I especially like how you made a locking mechanism so the trailer can’t be stolen off the bike. Good job, I expect a prototype within a week. Talk to Declan. I want an ad campaign for it in the works ASAP.”

The way Alva and Elsa attack me with their hugs makes me think I mustn’t give enough praise. I will have to be more conscious of the need to let people know they are appreciated.

I got back to my office. Half my mind focuses on work, but the other half marvels how everything is going so right. Dahlia finally admitted her problem. All is good with the rest of my girls. We just finished a big deal with Kawasaki, and there is another bigger deal in the works with Kawasaki, NeXT and Motorola. The Murphy family is doing a great job selling my patents, and money is pouring in faster than we can spend it. My relationship with UVic strengthens daily with the research we are doing there, letting them in on our medical advancements. Nothing ever goes this good in my life. It makes me wonder what is going to go wrong.