SSE
Copyright© 2013 by Gina Marie Wylie
Chapter 6: The Wizard
Heinz Hoffman saw his hostess for the evening break away from a group of guests, a younger man in tow, heading his way. She walked with an odd mixture of grace and elegance, but a certain tentativeness. Her hair, even in her early fifties, was still solid black; you had to be close before you could see a few errant white hairs lurking in the background. Her companion seemed, if anything, even more ill at ease and awkward than her usual hanger-on.
Heinz Hoffman mentally ran over his checklist and hoped nothing had been overlooked in his preparations; he was ready as he could be. Sondie Ford had been a powerful and wealthy woman before she became North American Administrator. Now, two years after leaving office, she was officially retired. No one believed it, of course.
Around him, music swirled, and several couples were taking a stab at dancing to it. He smiled inwardly. Pachelbel’s Canon in D-Major wasn’t exactly toe-tapping music. He felt a little better; his preparation told him that was his hostess’s favorite piece of music. Perhaps two hundred or so guests not so bold were clumped around the edges of the huge ballroom, locked in dozens of conversations ranging from the trivial to the esoteric. His own needs were purely mundane. His attention focused again on the former administrator. Not a good time to drop the ball!
She had linked arms with her escort; he was in his mid-twenties, middle height. Vaguely Eastern European in appearance. Maybe, Heinz thought, Armenian? The administrator had never married, she had no children, and there had never been a scandal. But the possessive way she held the man’s arm and the way she looked at him made him wonder. He mentally shook his head to clear the cobwebs. It made no difference to him, none at all.
“Jake, I want you to meet Dr. Heinz Hoffman.” The former North American Administrator smiled at the man on her arm. “Dr. Hoffman is the Ecological Systems Manager for the High Sky Habitat.” The two men dutifully shook hands. “Dr. Hoffman is down here trying to round up more investment capital for High Sky.”
Up close, Heinz Hoffman found something about the young man odd. It was, he thought, the man’s eyes. There was something wrong with his eyes. The eyes showed emotions that made no sense. Fear. Wonder. At times, they were the eyes of a thousand-year-old man; other times, they were empty. Sometimes, emotions played on the young man’s face; other times, it was like looking at the blank face of an idiot. The kindest thing he could say was that he found it very unsettling.
“Jake,” the administrator gently shook his arm, “say hello to Doctor Hoffman.”
A smile appeared on the face, a dancing grin in the eyes. “Sorry, Doctor, I’m not running at nominal at the moment. I’ve admired your work for years — I used to a bit a time or two, as well. Your paper back in ‘46 on microtoxin filtration. That was wonderful.”
Eight years ago? The fellow would have been in secondary school! What, a science fair project?
“Jake’s an astronaut,” the administrator said proudly. That itself was a rather anachronistic term.
“Ex-astronaut.” The man laughed. “Remember, I retired.”
“As I recall, you quit,” she kidded back.
“No, that was the first time. This time I retired. I have it in writing from your replacement. He seemed glad to see my backside.” Her replacement? Was Jake referring to the new North American Administrator? Retired? He knew postgrads that looked older!
The administrator caught the look on Dr. Hoffman’s face and laughed. “We’re confusing the good doctor, Jake.”
The man didn’t seem to pay much attention. “I asked Sondie to introduce me to you tonight,” the young man said, using a familiarity that was a little unsettling with regard to the older woman.
Dr. Hoffman girded himself for what was to come. How could he refuse? A retired astronaut? Sure! Not!
“I was in an accident. Now I’m in the process of completing some extensive gene therapy.” He paused, and Dr. Hoffman caught the expression on the administrator’s face. Was she laughing at him? Was this some kind of joke?
“In addition,” the administrator spoke, “to the usual problems with regrowth therapy, Jake is experiencing some adjustment problems. Social adjustment problems, if you get my drift.”
“I don’t relate very well with people,” the man she’d called Jake added bluntly. “I wasn’t that social before my accident. Now, well, it’s a struggle.” He added hopefully. “I was thinking that if I spent a little time at High Sky, it will all come back.”
“Jake can give you a hand with some of your work, Dr. Hoffman. Plus, he has a few dollars he wants to invest. He wants to put it into something to do with space.”
Dr. Hoffman tried not to let any emotion show. The things you had to do for money! The administrator gushed on. “Jake knows everything there is to know about habitat ecology.”
Sure! Of course! Which was why Dr. Hoffman hadn’t recognized him. What had he published? Something flashed in the administrator’s eyes. Anger? Amusement? Both? Dr. Hoffman was losing his ability to keep his emotions invisible.
“Jake, we are needlessly causing Dr. Hoffman considerable confusion. Please, dear heart, let me explain to him.”
Jake nodded, but before she could speak, he spoke first. “I’m sorry, Dr. Hoffman, this is very difficult for me. I’m hiding under false colors.” He ran his fingers along his cheek. “This isn’t me. If I look into a mirror, the therapists have to spend a dozen hours calming me down. This is all so new.”
“You must have patience with Jake,” the administrator added. “He’s spent a sizable portion of his life being a guinea pig. Even now, he just can’t seem to resist the urge. He’s told me he is determined to make it on his own, without people trying to help him.” She looked at Jake. “Tell Dr. Hoffman how many papers you’ve written on habitat ecology, Jake.”
Answers to direct questions of fact tended to short-circuit a lot of Jake’s judgment centers. “Eleven hundred and forty-seven. Five hundred sixty-five core papers, those with cites over 500, the average is around 250 each, the range is 75 on the low end, to over 10,000 on the high end.” Jake winced. Judgment! Ha! He’d said it with a smugness that was obscene! At least he stopped before adding the grand total of papers and cites to the list.
A publication record to die for! Dr. Hoffman opened his mouth to say something, and nothing came out. His brain had finished putting together the multitude of jigsaw pieces and arrived at the answer. The number of papers had done it. He’d watched that number increase every year in the professional journals for the decade and a half he’d been reading professional journals. And it had been large before then. The papers had started, in fact, before he was born.
Oh yes, Jacob Primare was an astronaut, though he’d only made one flight. But what a flight! The moon, a dozen asteroids, Mars, Jupiter, Saturn, and their major satellites. And the flight itself! He’d hijacked the ship, as close as made no difference. He’d ruined a thousand careers, including that of a first-term president who joined Nixon in the select group of those who had no choice but to resign ... or be lynched.
“I’m certain you’d be an asset for High Sky, Dr. Primare.” Dr. Hoffman was starting to regain control of his faculties.
“Please, forget my last name. It’s Jake, just Jake.”