Chapter 10

“There’s something I don’t understand, and it’s driving me crazy!” Laurel told Jennifer, alone in her office. “I thought up an idea for a new spell - a really useful one! But obviously it can’t work, because if it did people would have been doing it for thousands of years!”

“Please sit,” Jennifer requested. People often found Laurel’s manic energy irritating. “Have you studied calculus?” Laurel nodded. “There was a time when there was no calculus. But then science hit a roadblock: science needed calculus to be born. The time was right: the mathematics community was inspired enough by that need that two separate people invented calculus at the same time. Maybe you’re right, and you just don’t understand what you’re missing. But Laurel, maybe you are the right person at the right time with the right perspective to see what nobody else has before. Don’t sell yourself short.”

Jennifer took a sip of her tea. “So, do you want to tell me about this idea of yours?” She asked.

Laurel’s face turned red. Somehow it hadn’t occurred to her that discussing her idea with Jennifer would mean talking about sex with an old woman.

“Okay, um, it’s kind of embarrassing,” Laurel began. “Sometimes, in my generation, when people have sex - like oral and stuff - sometimes when a man ejaculates..., he sprays it onto his partner’s face.” Laurel told her as if trying to explain an Internet meme to her grandmother. “Or her chest or bellybutton,” she added.

“Your generation ... is that right?” Jennifer teased.

“Well, it’s just, I mean...,” Laurel stammered.

“Relax, Laurel,” Jennifer said with a disarming smile. “We weren’t puritans when I was your age. I’ve sucked a dick or two in my time.”

“Oh,” Laurel said, having trouble imagining it. “Anyway, when a guy comes - that means ejaculate - it’s viscous and heterogenous, so it naturally takes on all sorts of different shapes. And it’s literally a projectile. It’s got life and power and emotion, so, why couldn’t you channel it through a probability filter? Couldn’t that be an effective form of divination?”

Jennifer leaned on her elbows, holding her tea in both hands right below her nose. “Interesting. It does sound like a strong premise. You’d have to develop a whole new lexicon for interpreting the shapes. Did you check the library?”

Laurel nodded. “I couldn’t find anything.”

“I’m part of an email group that might have insights,” Jennifer told her. “Would you mind if I ask them about it? I can leave your name out of it if you wish.”

“Yes, please!” Laurel said. “I’d really like to know where I’m going wrong.”

Laurel began to leave, but Jennifer had parting words. “Laurel, remember: before Edison, there was no light bulb. Before Little Richard, there was no Rock ‘n Roll. Someone is always the first. Oh, and tell Chelle and Ashton to keep it down.”