Omniscient: John The Genius Part 3: Public Eye

CHAPTER ONE

IT WAS MAY 4th, 1985. My name is John Cook, and I'm eight years old. Nine in two months, and yes I'm counting. I sat with my graduating class in front of the stage. It was just after 2:30pm on a beautiful 75-degree Oklahoma spring day.

I'm currently up for two Guinness Book of World Records: youngest undergraduate degree, and highest IQ. Earlier this month my friend, Dr Thompson gave me a new IQ test. It is rated to score up to 250. I finished it in record time and with a perfect score, so my official IQ is now 'Above 250.'

Dr Thompson is also the one responsible for my graduation this semester. He convinced my parents and me that I needed to step back from lab work and everything else I was doing for a month to take the remaining finals. He also enrolled me in a writing class just for writing scientific papers.

During that time I've either been taking tests or submitting papers to scientific journals around the world. Thanks to language courses with recorded audio, of which my Mom generously lets me buy a new one each month, I have the ability to read, write and speak French, German, Spanish, Russian and Japanese. So far thirty-six of my scientific papers have been published, and not just in English journals.

I also hold fourteen patents, play three instruments, co-own a successful software company, authored a hit computer game, published a novel in English and French, and most recently became known worldwide for solving Fermat's Last Theorem, the longest-running problem in mathematics.

It sounds like bragging, but what is most important to me is that I have saved over sixteen thousand lives. I could see saved life number 14 looking at me from the audience. He was sitting with my parents, grandparents, and little sister. As the proverb says, 'But there is a friend that sticketh closer than a brother.' That's Matt, and at six foot eight he really stands out in a crowd, especially when he's surrounded by nearly 100 percent white people.

I stood as my section of the graduate class stood. I'm towards the front of the line as it's alphabetical. Finally, they announced: 'John W. Cook, receiving a bachelor's degree in Physics, Mathematics, Chemistry, and Computer Science.'

I started across the stage to the applause. Then the announcement continued, "In addition to being eight years old, he is the first quad major at our University."

I stepped up to take my diploma and get my traditional handshake, but the University President put a hand on my shoulder to keep me from following the other students around the stage and back to our chairs. "For groundbreaking work in Mathematics, Chemistry, and Physics he is also being awarded a Master's Degree in each of those fields."

I tried to act surprised. The agreement with the University was that I would work on those degrees during the fall semester and they would award them afterwards. I very often have to act surprised. It's because I don't get surprised anymore.

I haven't been surprised by anything for thirteen months. That's when I became omniscient. I know things. Just about everything there is to know. I already had a near photographic memory, but an experiment from a few hundred thousand years in the future attempted to send information into the past. It didn't work as expected, and now I can remember the future too.

Someone might be thinking that remembering the future doesn't sound like omniscience, which is knowing everything. That's because I can remember every future. My future selves can go places, do things, even get themselves killed in the pursuit of knowledge and I remember it all. If I want to know what you did yesterday, they can kidnap you, pump you full of drugs and interrogate you and learn every secret you have. I remember it, and you don't because it never happened. It's a very practical form of omniscience.

That's why I'm not surprised. But I'm supposed to be. My future selves are watching this moment via a video recording so I know I look surprised. I can remember the look on my face. But I particularly like the look of surprise that came next, it was one of my best.

"But, after reviewing his work in Physics. Particularly the invention of high temperature superconductors, and the work involved in describing the mathematical underpinning of the quantum effects involved, extending the boundaries of human knowledge in a brand new and unexpected direction, as well as reviewing the extensive published papers on the subject, it is the pleasure of The University of Tulsa and its Doctoral Committee to award John W. Cook a Doctorate of Philosophy of Physics. Congratulations, Doctor John Cook," he said, reaching out to shake my hand.

There was massive applause from the audience as I vigorously shook his hand. He handed me the sheepskin, though it was just a prop. Even my fellow graduates were applauding and cheering wildly. When the cheering stopped, I was still standing there. The University President put his hand back on my shoulder, turned me in the correct direction and gave me a little push to follow my classmates.

Amidst the laughter, he quipped, "Seems we stunned him as much as he's stunned us." Then he continued down through the graduates. Eventually we were back in our seats, the Valedictorian gave the final address, we tossed our caps, congratulated each other, and found our families. Before I could find mine I was cornered by the four Deans: Dr Thompson, Dr Maytubby, Dr Rice, Dr Gunner. They were heads of Psychology, Chemistry, Physics and Mathematics respectively.

"You gentlemen are not nice for springing that surprise on me. But regardless, thank you very much!" I told them as I shook their hands. "You are all coming to my graduation party I hope?"

"We wouldn't miss it!" they agreed.

"It's deserved John, or I guess I should say, Dr Cook," Dean Thompson said.

"Congratulations Doctor Cook!" the rest repeated.

"Well deserved!" agreed Karl Gunner, "I pushed for a doctorate in Mathematics as well, but they wouldn't agree."

"He just proved something that everyone knew must be true, there wasn't anything new or groundbreaking. Unlike high temperature superconductivity!" James Rice said in response.

"How is a three-hundred and fifty year old mathematics problem not ground breaking!" Karl insisted.

"Gentlemen, let's not start that argument again. Dr Cook is welcome to return to our University to pursue any other Doctorate he might choose," Dean Thompson said, interrupting an old argument.

I eventually made it to my family, where Mom enveloped me in a hug, with a whispered, "I'm so proud of you." She passed me to my grandparents, who gave me big congratulatory hugs, and then I got one from my little sister Mattie. Then, uncharacteristically Matt hugged me too, with a whispered, "Well done, little boss," and handed me to my Dad, who with a beaming smile on his face, hoisted me over his head.

"Oof," Dad replied as I settled on his shoulders. "Well done, Johnny! I'm so proud right now, our family finally has a high school and college graduate!"

"Let's go celebrate!" came the cheer from the family.

We were having a big party at the roof of our hotel. Last year, when my Grandpa Joe learned that the family was going to move to Tulsa so I could attend university, he purchased a hotel in downtown Tulsa, the first of ten so far. It had needed serious renovation, which my Dad had overseen. Part of the remodel had turned the top floor into lab space for me, the floors below into private apartments for my family, my grandparents, my friend Matt, and most recently my lawyer Jennifer. But the two jewels of the hotel, the fabulous Beaux Arts lobby and the rooftop penthouse bar and lounge, were complete and would be on full display today.

The working parts of The Mayo were finished and in operation. Only the new indoor pool and the full suite of rooms on twelve floors were incomplete. Four floors of suites were complete, not including the private family level on fourteen. Today they would all be fully operational and fully staffed to help throw a giant party. The family loaded into two minivans, glossy black vehicles adorned with a white hotel logo on the side. Matt drove one, and a hotel shuttle driver drove the other.

As always, I was with Matt, and in the back, Grandpa sat with me. Dad sat up front in the passenger seat. The other van carried Mom and Mattie in the back, and Grandma up front. Grandpa was gushing about how proud he was of me, "You know on my side of the family we've had college graduates, but never a doctor. Not even a medical doctor. My Grandfather, when he came to this country, he sold combs. From door to door, he sold combs and brushes and shoe shine kits.

"I'm so proud to have a doctor in the family. Look at us now, with a family business and hotels. It's incredible. I can't wait to see what you do next!"

I smiled as best I could. I knew this party wasn't about me, but mainly about everyone involved in my life wanting to congratulate themselves for their part in my accomplishments. Either way I was determined to have fun.

We unloaded at the front and were greeted by the valet, who took the vans away. We were greeted next by the staff, who were lined up in their uniforms clapping. Then we went into the two elevators and straight to the roof. I was the only one dressed in comfortable clothes, which had been under my graduate robes. Everyone else was very dressed up.

We ordered drinks from the bartender, and I went to a server for a canapé. Once I had my pig in a blanket and my Dr Pepper, I sat at the giant white grand piano and began to play. This way, anyone who wished to talk to me could approach, as I had a full view of the room and was visible to everyone. It would also keep the crowd away. Wedged into the corner, the piano served as a barrier. It was only comfortable for a couple people at a time to stand close enough for conversation.

I looked around the room. We had rushed back so we could be here for our guests. The bar, officially 'The Mayo Rooftop Lounge,' was about 3,200 square feet and L-shaped. It had folding glass doors that opened onto a roof deck, providing an additional 2,500 square feet of space in good weather. The doors were folded back, and some people were at the tables and chairs outside, while others looked out over the city. One group even took turns using a telescope mounted there to examine the city.

I started to play softly enough not to draw anyone's attention my way. Mom disappeared for a bit to fix her makeup. When she returned she was carrying a big wrapped present that she set on the table designated for them. I let my eyes close as I sank into the music, letting it wash over me and keeping me in the moment. There was no moment but the note being played. Each note a singular moment, always in the now.

When I opened my eyes, Jennifer Parz, my lawyer, was standing there. "Congratulations, John. I'm sorry I didn't get a chance to say hello at the graduation."

"Hi Jen, I'm glad you got back from Corning in time. How did it go?" I asked her.

"Very well. As you requested, they purchased our license with stock, and will pay out a percentage of gross sales." She gave me a dazzling smile, "You now own ten percent of Corning. They already have orders for fifteen million dollars' worth of product, and more coming in every day. Carbon felt filtration is the product that every sector is looking to use to cut costs."

"Well done. Slide in next to me," I asked her, as I slid over on the piano bench to make room. She sat, so I softly asked her as I played a little louder, "Did you mention the other three products?"

"Yes, they were about to wet themselves in excitement. "They didn't believe me until I showed them the samples you gave me."

"Good, I'd like the same type of deal for each additional product of mine they take on. I'm looking to acquire at least 25% of the company. Did you put the samples in the safe?"

"Of course."

"Excellent. Any song request?" I asked.

"Play my favorite," she challenged. It was a game we played. I'd ask her a question, she would say "my favorite" and I would perfectly choose her favorite. To her, I was a mystery. To me, she was an open book. It thrilled her in a way I was too young to fully explore.

"Perhaps another day for that one. This really isn't the time or place," I told her, and began to play 'Thank Heaven for Little Girls' instead. When I began singing the lyrics in my best Maurice Chevalier voice, she burst into giggles.

The louder playing and her laughter caught the attention of others, and they began to trickle my way. As I ended the song, she stood up, gave me a kiss on the cheek, and whispered into my ear, "I'll take a rain check on that song."

The spot next to me opened, as the song finished I began another. As I chatted with people, I'd occasionally invite one lady or another to sit next to me, and then play a funny or silly romantic song for her. Later Matt tried to sit next to me, but I shook my head, "Sorry Matt, pretty girls only, and you're not either." He smiled and nodded, knowing it was a joke.

Eventually, a young lady sat down next to me. "You're incredible," she told me.

"In what way?" I asked.

"I've been here from nearly the start of the party and you've been playing for hours. No notes—just from memory. And you're taking requests, playing any song anybody wants!"

"Do you play?" I asked.

"Yes, I'm the one whose supposed to be playing soft background music. I have a one hour playlist, and then I have to start over."

"Then let me leave you to your job, it's about time for me to find the big manly men's room."

She giggled at the joke, "Thank you, but your still incredible."

After the bathroom I went out to mingle. Snacks and Dr Pepper are a wonderful combination anytime. Eventually there was a call for attention. It was time for presents.

There were calls "Speech, speech, speech!" as I approached the front of the room to the table piled with packages. I pulled a chair around, and stepped up onto it so I was high enough to look out at everyone.

"Thank you for coming to my party. I'm still a little dazed that I have so much to celebrate. Like all such events in life worth celebrating, this party is simply the short moment between where we have been, and where we are going. May we always have more places to go, and reason to celebrate where we've been. Cheers!"

"Cheers!" The crowd responded back.

I stepped down, and had a seat in the chair I had been standing on. Dad handed me the first present. "This is from your girlfriend," he teased.

"Just the president of my fan club," I told him, as I unwrapped the present. I was able to genuinely laugh in delight at the present. It was a t-shirt, and it said "I'm John Cook and I belong here."

I stood up and pulled off my shirt, to cat calls and camera flashes, and put it on. Then I turned to show the audience still smiling widely. Amber, my oldest friend, and President of my fan club had gotten me the perfect gift. Her note simply said, "Sorry we couldn't be there, congratulations."

I opened more gifts, many of them t-shirts, as Mom had requested funny or custom ones with the invitations. A few were better than others, my top favorites were: 'Mad Science is Fun Science' 'I might have a PhD but I can still play Doctor' 'Take me to your leader!' 'Super Conductor' (with a picture of Superman conducting an orchestra).

Then came the gift from Grandma, it was a custom lab coat, my size which was four foot four, and lots of pens in a pocket protector on the front. It included massive black rubber gloves, black rubber boots, and large safety glasses. It was great. I put the coat on then gave her a hug.

Typical gag gifts followed: a toy stethoscope, a rubber reflex hammer, and a speculum paired with a comically large magnifying glass. That particular gag gift certainly got a laugh from the women in the room. With that part of the festivities complete everyone was invited down to dinner at our new restaurant on the second floor.

I better explain our hotel, I'm rather proud of it as I did a lot of the early layout work and the custom artwork going in soon. It was built in 1925 and is locally famous. The second and third floor are U shaped, while the ground floor and mezzanine level are the full footprint of the building, about 140 feet on each side. The mezzanine space looks down onto the lobby and is reached by the grand staircase or the elevators

We had cut the full basement in half. It was now partly parking lot with a private entrance for the hotel. In addition to deliveries, it was a way for a guest to enter the hotel without coming thru the public lobby. The other half was our new spa treatment area and our indoor heated pool. The sub-basement below it had held the staff accommodations, break rooms, and laundry. Part of it was now the bottom of our basement pool, the remainder was still the laundry. The pool and spa were still under construction. We would offer everything from massage, steam, and sauna to beauty treatments and salon services. There was also a work out space with stationary bikes and treadmills.

The U shaped second floor, a 17000 sq foot space, got our biggest kitchen, and our premier dining room. Officially called 'In Flagrante Delicious,' this would be its first event. Mom had surprisingly been happy with the name, she was convinced that it would help sell the hotel as a romantic getaway, especially on Valentine's day.

This second floor is divided 60/40, seven thousand sq feet of kitchen space, ten thousand sq feet of dining space. With spacious seating for 500 it's a big restaurant. The third floor features a second 5,000-square-foot kitchen catering to the breakfast buffet, pastry production for the lobby coffee shop, and 24-hour room service. The remaining 12,000 square feet of the third floor is a versatile, multi-purpose space, its accordion walls allowing it to be sized as needed. Primarily for meetings and small conventions, it also handles the hotel's complimentary breakfast buffet.

Two more restaurants are on the premises. First, a coffee shop: 'The Daily Grind' that is reachable from either the lobby, the street, or the mezzanine level as it is two stories. The Grind does counter service, pastries, sandwiches and fountain drinks. The coffee shop is served by dumb waiter from both kitchens so doesn't actually cook anything more than making and serving coffee and other drinks. It's in the corner of the building and accessible from both Cheyenne Avenue and West fifth.

Second, a bistro/pub, 'Twister Grill' is next door and accessible from Cheyenne Avenue or the lobby. It plates the meals served, but most of the cooking is done in the hotel restaurant above, arriving via dumb waiter. The 'Twister' offers table service, does fast hot food with beer and wine but only with meals. Both restaurants can be fully provided by either kitchen as needed.

The hotel lobby entrance is on West 5th Street, directly across from the recently completed OneOK (pronounced one oak) building. The check in desk, valet station, bellboy station, a gift shop, and an open sitting and relaxing area finish off the ground floor. They are overlooked by the hotel concierge desk, managers office, and second floor of the Daily Grind on the mezzanine second level.

Floors four and five offer two bedroom luxury suites with balconies facing the interior of the U shape. A mix of one, and two bedroom suites without balconies are on floors six thru nine. Floors ten thru thirteen have two and three bedroom apartments. The units on the thirteenth level are unique for being two levels, extending up into level fourteen. The rest of level fourteen is Grandpa's office level, including his boardroom. Fifteen, where we live, has only five apartments, plus a large family space with dining space for everyone and room for entertainment.

The hotel manages the entire property. Level fifteen is private, while levels twelve and thirteen will be leased out as luxury residences, primarily targeting single individuals and couples working downtown. Floors ten and eleven are available for daily or weekly stays through the hotel.

When everyone arrived on the second floor at In Flagrante Delicious, they were directed to assigned seats for dinner. Our new chef and his staff did their best, even Ms Double approved. The true highlight, however, arrived at the end: a daring charred leek ice cream, its smoky sweetness a surprisingly delightful counterpoint to the richness of the preceding courses.

At the end of dinner, my Grandpa stood, tapped his glass with a fork, and the room quieted. "Thank you all for coming to my hotel. I think we can all show our appreciation for the hard work put into that wonderful meal," he said, leading a round of applause. "My name is Joseph Carpenter, John is my grandson. Of course, I'm Jewish, and we Joseph Carpenters are known for having famous descendants," he said, to a roll of laughter from the dinners.

"While previous Carpenters have had a famous son, I'm very happy to have famous grandson. As a special thank you for joining us in this celebration, Mark, standing over there, has a card for a free three-night stay at any of my hotels. Please see him anytime after dinner. You are also invited to use your card immediately and become our first guests here tonight.

"I also want to say a few words about my grandson, Dr John Cook. I've never seen a young man who works so hard. When I asked him how his school work was doing, worried that he was pushing himself, his response was simply, 'It's not difficult, there's just a lot of it.' Then he went on to do it all at record speed.

"I've never seen a young man who seemed so humble about his accomplishments. When I showed him a newspaper article, or a magazine article about his Chess wins, his computer game selling 500 thousand copies, his book being on The New York Times best seller list, or someone extolling the way his new water filter is going to save hundreds of thousands of lives around the world, he simply smiles and says, 'I'm glad I could do it, it was fun.' or 'I'm glad I could do it, it was really needed.'

"My Grandson, who is quite likely the smartest person in the world, had the best answer when I asked him what he wanted most for a birthday present, 'I'd like everyone to be happy, and have what they need' then he added 'but puberty would be pretty great too." Grandpa said getting another laugh.

"To my Grandson, may you have both wishes, that everyone is happy and has what they need, and puberty when you're thirteen. We will all support your noble wishes to the best of our ability. L'chaim!" he concluded, to loud applause from the guests.

With the festivities over, I made my goodbyes, and went up to the sixteenth floor. My lab space. This had been the hotels original ballroom. It would be again someday, but for now the double height space was ideal. It was here that I created a method to crack carbon dioxide at five Watt-hours per liter. I also created the graphene flakes that I baked into what I called carbon felt. Carbon felt was now being produced by Corning, which is what I had been discussing with my personal lawyer, Jennifer Parz.

My newest products for them were bubbling away. The first was a vast roll of graphene, thirty-six inches wide, its nearly transparent surface turning gray as it spooled onto the roll. The roll it was spooling onto after coming out of manufacturing was nearly a foot across. I maneuvered a small, sturdy dolly beneath its immense weight, over a thousand pounds, and carefully lifted and positioned it next to two other similar sized rolls already produced.

The second product was a diamond, resting inside a plexiglass container under the baking light and a dripping mixture of carbon. Still growing, it presented a formidable half-kilo mass of pure, unblemished raw diamond. Unfaceted the newly formed diamond still caught the light at around 2500 carats. This was my second big diamond. Jennifer had carefully packed the first one off to Corning, then retrieved it and secured it in her apartment safe.. Its substantial six-by-eight-inch size was impressive enough, but the true marvel was my signature, subtly embedded within its crystalline depths to prove to Corning it was man made. It was a simple trick: a tiny streak of red nail polish carefully placed during the initial forming stage, then the diamond meticulously grown around the signature, creating an unexpected embedded mark. It was a startling effect.

A third project was humming quietly in a corner, also being fed onto a roll. It's matte black surface drank the light. It was a different form of carbon felt that was extraordinarily strong, and impervious to all gases, including hydrogen. Best of all, I had achieved this remarkable feat at a mere half-millimeter thickness, and 1 ounce per cubic foot.

A firm knock echoed on the door, and Matt’s face appeared in the opening. Seeing I was occupied but present, he stepped inside, the heavy door closing softly behind him. 'I came to change out the roll of graphene,' he stated, his eyes briefly flicking towards the equipment.

'I've already taken care of it,' I replied, gesturing subtly towards the completed setup.

"Quite the party."

"Yes it was. I'm going to bed soon, everything ready for tomorrow?"

"All packed, Jennifer said she's ready too," he assured.

"Ok, goodnight then. See you at breakfast," I said, watching him depart, the quiet of the lab settling around me. Now alone I moved to an open space in the room. The hiss and hum of the equipment soft as I began my Tai Chi. I sank into a deep meditative state as I flowed through my favorite long-form variation, the world outside fading with each posture. I let the peace of the now soak into my soul.

The voices stirred.

"Thanks for visiting again"

"You guys lonely?" I asked.

"Of course not, always plenty of you around to talk to," they joked.

"I know that I'm on the right path, but I really don't like the choices in front of me. I need to go deeper, remember deeper, push further into the unknown," I urged.

"This is the way, follow us," the voices communed.

The universe exploded in my mind, as I touched infinite possibilities. My inner eyes snapped open, flooded with a torrent of vivid images, resonant sounds, and overwhelming experiences. I lived a thousand lifetimes, explored a million variations, each one intensely real.

"Those are the choices. Those are the compromises. It is an unusual business, but you are all there is."

"I'm finding the frenzy in the media about me to be really oppressive. It's only going to get worse," I admitted.

"That never changes. But, you grow used to it."

"I hate what I'm putting people I care about through. There's all these things I'm doing. It's like I keep jumping from flower to flower. People see the busy little bee but don't understand all the seeds I'm making."

"The most perfect choices will always require sacrifice. You are beginning to face that reality for the first time."

"It's so strange, I used to be so proud of showing off my abilities. I have my Degree, and my PhD. Every event till now has been carefully orchestrated, probabilities prodded. I displayed abilities in front of just the right person, at just the right time. It's felt forced, not who I really am. It's like all my choices are scripted."

"You have made good choices," the voices affirmed, "choices that were yours. You wrote the script."

"I guess it's just business as usual. I just wish I wasn't all so dependent on me. There's so much on my shoulders. It feels very lonely knowing the only person who really understands is a future version of myself," I admitted.

CHAPTER TWO

AFTER BREAKFAST, MATT, Jennifer, and I climbed into the van, driven by a hotel employee for an airport run. At the airport, we boarded a Cessna 208 configured for six passengers and cargo. It was a quick bumpy flight to the small Addison airport north of Dallas.

From there, I proceeded to a meeting at Heartland Software. After getting settled around the conference table, Blake Sanders, CEO of Heartland and my business partner, introduced the other members in the room, including Tim. He then continued, "Dr. Cook, congratulations, are you bringing us new software, or something else?"

"Glad to be back here Blake, and congratulations on your deal with Tandy. I'm here because I want to run an idea past you. What do you think of merging with another software company or two?" I responded.

"I don't know, we are successful enough now that we don't need to do so. What are you thinking?" Blake asked.

I'm thinking I'll buy 25 percent of two other companies. We'll split the software categories up between them: programming systems and utilities stay here at Heartland, one company takes action games, and the third does educational software. Each company gets 25 percent of the new company."

"I want to keep Civilization here, but why does this merging software companies make sense?" Blake asked.

"We can keep strategy games here," I agreed, "It makes sense if the three companies offload production, sales, distribution, and marketing to one centralized management. It makes the three companies more profitable, and able to better focus on making products."

"I see the business logic. Who are you thinking of going to?" Blake said.

"Brøderbund and Sierra On-line," Jennifer answered.

"Why two computer game companies?" Tim asked, still unsure.

"We don't compete with them. Sierra does adventure games, and Brøderbund has an action game company that they can't make a profit from, plus a new edutainment game that's going to be a big hit. Brøderbund has been trying to attract outside investment, most people only know it as the printshop company. With the merger, they won't need outside investment to grow. Sierra would actively welcome offloading marketing and production; they're happiest writing games. I think I can convince them both," I explained.

"What do you want to call the new company?" Blake asked.

"BHS Productions works for me," I said, after a brief pause. "I certainly don't want to call it Cook Productions."

"And the existing owners would all have a place in the board of this BHS Company?" Blake asked.

"Yes, Jennifer here would still vote my shares on the board," I answered.

"Well, go see if they're interested and get back to me," Blake offered.

"It would be nice to have some help from you with our competition with Borland and Turbo Pascal. We are matching them on price, but our product is better. You haven't updated the software in nearly a year, they will catch up," Tim said.

"I brought updates," I told Tim, generating smiles of relief and anticipation around the room.

Jennifer added, "The best benefit of the deal for Sierra Online is that they get first use of John's software programming updates. Sierra has a problem right now because they wrote King's Quest for the IBM PCjr, and it's not compatible with the new IBM PC/AT, so they are having to go back and rewrite it. It's extra difficult because while it's a great game, IBM didn't sell many PCjrs."

"Programmers from all three companies will be able to move between divisions to where they want to write. If the merger happens we can't let management get hard feelings about moving software development or programmers around," I added.

Blake looked thoughtful, "I can see that. I've recently been thinking that a magazine would be good for the company too. It could be somewhere to advertise all three divisions."

"There isn't a combination PC/MAC magazine yet. Perhaps something that considers hardware for both, plus software. "We can emphasize when software is available on both platforms, include articles on writing for both and even articles on learning to program," I suggested.

"I like that idea, when do you plan on meeting with the others?" Tim asked.

"Sometime in the next couple months."

"Okay," Blake said, "Let's review our current status and the updates you brought."

When we broke for lunch, a small crowd gathered, eager to congratulate the new Dr. Cook. After lunch I went with Jennifer to her home office in Dallas. There, I met with her bosses for the first time.

"Welcome, Dr Cook. Have you gotten tired of people calling you that yet?" the distinguished man asked me.

Jennifer said, "This is George Malley, my boss. He's a senior partner here at Sterling, Malley & Associates."

"I'm not tired of it yet but you can call me John," I said, shaking his hand firmly.

"Great, we're happy you came by, why don't we head into my office, where it's a bit cozier," George said.

The office was backed against a wall of windows, looking south away from the central conglomeration of similar towers. The room was heavily decorated in a subtle Texas motif, a polished longhorn bull in bronze took pride of place on a shelf.

We settled down into two couches facing each other in the room, and George Malley raised an eyebrow when Jennifer choose to sit next to me, instead of him.

I began, "I've been thrilled with Jennifer's work. She's become indispensable to me, and the support of the office here in Dallas has been extra appreciated."

"We were wondering how the relationship was going. She's closed deals worth more this year than most of the other partners, much less any associates."

An older woman stuck her head in. "Sorry I'm late, I was stuck on a call with a client."

Jennifer rose and hugged the woman. "I was hoping you were here today."

Turning to me, Jennifer said, "This is Mirabelle Stirling, our founding partner."

I stood to shake her hand. "Ma'am, it's a pleasure to meet you."

"I heard the young Doctor was going to be here, so I made sure I was in the office today," Mirabelle said, and sat happily next to George Malley.

Mirabelle asked George, "So what did I miss?"

"I was just complimenting Jennifer for her excellent work, and the incredible help she's been," I summarized.

"Wonderful," Mirabelle said, "and Jennifer, how has it been working for such a go getter?"

Jennifer chuckled, "Exhausting. I never know what new thing he's going to throw at me next."

"You've caught each one like a pro," I complimented.

"Excellent. Now, what can the firm do to make things better?" Mirabelle asked.

I explained, "The firm here in Dallas has been incredibly helpful, making sure Jennifer can call on all your resources as needed, but she's a bit shorthanded all by herself in Tulsa. What are the chances you can open a small office there and get her some assistants?"

George gave a slight frown, "That's certainly something we will discuss. It's not something that can be decided immediately. If it was a more senior member of our staff, then perhaps it would be easier to arrange."

I wouldn't accept anyone but Jennifer, "Jennifer is my trusted confidant, and I'm not particularly interested in developing a close working relationship with someone new. I started off with a firm across the street in Tulsa because they were close and convenient. I quickly realized that they were not going to be long term, as they were limited in what they could do for me."

"It is important to find someone you trust to handle business dealings. Perhaps it's time we consider if the excellent work Jennifer has been doing is sufficient for a promotion," Mirabelle said, directing her last comment at George.

"Again, something to be discussed later," George said, then seeing my face, continued, "and we will certainly discuss it soon."

"Good, I'm especially excited about your patent team here in Dallas. I hope they are ready to hit the ground running."

"They are ready," George confirmed.

"He's serious about being ready," Jennifer added, "John had fourteen patents granted in the last year, and still another dozen or so pending."

"Who did that work?" Mirabelle asked.

"Because I was a University student, and Tulsa University gets partial ownership of my patents while I was a student, they handled all the work," I explained.

"And now, you have graduated, so they have no claim, and you need someone else to do the work," Mirabelle finished.

"Exactly," I agreed.

George changed the subject, "I couldn't reach you the other day, were you out of town?"

"Sorry," Jennifer said, "I got your message, but didn't get back from Corning until early yesterday."

"Jennifer did an amazing job at Corning."

"Oh?" asked Mirabelle, "I haven't heard about that yet."

Jennifer proudly explained, "I made a deal using the patents John has for carbon felt, including the related production process patents for ten percent of the company, plus an ongoing royalty."

"Carbon felt?" Mirabelle asked.

I pulled a sample of carbon felt from my pocket and handed it her. "It's a remarkably strong material, with a range of properties that shift depending on how its manufactured."

"It's very light weight," she commented.

"That particular version is a ground breaking water filter," Jennifer said.

"Fascinating," Mirabelle said, handing it George.

"I heard something about using it for distilling whiskey?" George asked, as he rubbed the dark black material between his fingers.

"Distillation removes alcohol from water, the alcohol boils off first, which is then condensed back to liquid."

"I'm familiar with the process," George said, with a smile.

"You can pour any liquid through that filter, and only water will come out the other side, leaving behind everything else, including flavor. You can keep that if you'd like to try it out."

"Thank you, I'll definitely try it," George agreed.

Returning the same day, on a different plane, from the closer Love Field in Dallas to the Riverside Airport in Tulsa, Jennifer vibrated with a mixture of elation and apprehension on the flight home.

"I can't believe you dropped the whole 'what are the chances you can open a small office' line. And then! Then, you tell them I need a promotion! What were you thinking?" she demanded.

"I was thinking that Mirabelle is ready to fully retire, and she wants another woman as a partner in the firm before she does."

"What? But she only comes in a couple days a month, why would she give that up?"

"Eight grandkids? That's the story she's spinning, anyway. Really, she knows that George wants her gone so he can be completely in charge."

"He likes being the boss," she agreed.

"And you want to be partner before you turn thirty."

She let out a low growl, then turned to the stewardess, her voice tight, "Can I have a coffee please, cream and sugar."

"I'll have the same," Matt said.

The stewardess looked at me, "Dr Pepper please."

"Doctor for the Doctor," Matt chuckled.

"You'll grow out of that joke eventually, but it will take an unfortunately long amount of time," I told him.

I received my drink first, the simple *pop* of the can top the only preparation needed.

The hour-long flight felt shorter on the larger plane, as Matt and I played Go Fish. I watched Jennifer spend the rest of the flight either stewing or reading the large pile of papers that she was taking home from the office. We got home just in time for dinner.

Our family has been having meals together since moving into the hotel. We meet practically every morning for breakfast, and every night for dinner in the communal family dining and entertainment area, the shared meals a comforting constant. Breakfast is easier now with the hotel restaurants fully opened downstairs. The hotel offered a complimentary breakfast buffet, and since we had guests from the party and were now open and taking a small number of reservations, the staff had created a small, separate breakfast buffet for us. Our family dining and entertainment area was closest to the elevator lobby, acting as a secure buffer for the more private spaces that served as our homes.

I had just finished eating when the phone rang. Everyone looked around for a moment wondering who would call them there, instead of the office number. Grandpa went to answer the phone.

"This is Joe," he said.

His eyes got big, and he looked at me. "It's for you John."

I took the phone, "Hello this is John Cook, how may I help you."

"Please hold for the President of the United States," said a voice.

I put my hand on the receiver, "It's the President!"

"Congratulations Dr Cook. My National Science Adviser recommended I give you a call. I'm glad to tell you how proud and astounded we are by your accomplishments. You've even made the news here in Germany. I'd very much like for you to come for a visit at the White House after I get back. I'll have my office contact you."

"Thank you Mr President, very much. I'm so honored by the invitation and am looking forward to it. I want to say that I appreciate what you did in Germany yesterday. If we can't have peace with Germany after forty years we never will. I know people accuse you of saber rattling, but I realize you're just reminding the world of the consequences of not seriously seeking peace first."

"Thank you son, I feel much the same way. "Perhaps young voices like yours and Samantha Smith's can help guide the world toward a lasting peace."

"I would love to meet her, sir. Do you think we could both come visit you?" I asked.

"I don't see why not, nice to have young people come visit the White House. I'll have my staff get with you."

"Again thank you for calling me Mr President. I'm looking forward to meeting you and the First Lady."

The line clicked, and a capable young man with a crisp and efficient tone answered the phone. I wrote down the contact number he gave me and answered several questions about the size of my family. I mentioned I had a personal assistant so he wanted Matt's information too.

I turned to the family who stopped whispering to each other as I hung up, "Guess what? We've been invited to the White House!"

A flurry of questions erupted immediately. "What do you mean, the White House?" "Who's inviting us?" I held up a hand, repeating the conversation to quell the rising excitement.

Despite the excitement, Mattie had only one week left of school, which meant Mom had to start getting her ready to go. I excused myself, as I had errands to run. On my way out the door I said, "Grandpa can you join Matt and I today? We leave at nine," and walked away before he could answer.

Matt and I checked the three experiments, then I spent some time writing letters. At 9am I met Matt and Grandpa who were waiting for me in the basement garage. Matt checked out one of the hotel shuttle vans, and we took off heading southeast towards Broken Arrow in it.

"What adventure are we going on this time, John?" Grandpa asked.

"We are headed to check on the progress of the tile printing machine the engineer I hired has been working on."

"Oh! That's great. Is it finished?" he wanted to know.

"That's what we are going to check on," I told him.

We eventually got to the house, it was an older area that had homes with actual property, some had horses, others big barns. So much of this area was on its way to being indistinguishable cookie cutter houses on postage stamp lots with the only green space provided by manicured golf courses. Every section and subdivision in big squares, neat and straight. I was not a fan of this planned uniformity, but I understood the economic reality of suburban growth.

Matt had been here before with me, so he knew the way. He pulled up to a big steel shop building, and we got out. Nobody seemed to be around, so I told Matt, "Give the horn a honk." When he did the sliding door on the very large building slid open.

I walked up and greeted the guy that came out, "Ted, how are you? How's the project?" I asked.

"It's working great, glad you came to check it out."

I introduced Grandpa, and then Ted, visibly excited as it ran on its own in the middle of the shop, started explaining how it worked. "John hired me to build the tile printer for him. Together we worked out the design and he wrote the software while I built the hardware. It runs on an IBM PC

"John's Magic Eye software saves the finished artwork as a text file, a column of letters A thru P. I insert the disk and tell it to print. Each letter corresponds to a different color, and I load up the colors according to the pallet sequence John provides. Each color is a 1/2-inch tile.

"Once it's all set, the printer drops the tile on a mesh made of nylon. Glue holds the tile in place. The whole thing slides off the printer down an incline down to the floor. I have to keep adjusting it so it doesn't bunch when it hits the floor, but that's only for the last two feet. It puts all the colored tiles in exactly the right space.

"When it's done printing, I move the sheet of tiles to the side. I've got the mermaid picture on the floor right now if you want to see."

"What's magic eye?" Grandpa asked.

"Marketing. Autostereogram was too much of a mouthful. We will do color posters, prints, and a couple coffee table books for the hotel. Mr Benz insisted on it, and my publisher thinks it will be very popular," I explained.

Grandpa asked, "The hotel architect?"

"Yeah, it advertises the hotel, and his restoration work."

"Wow, she's not wearing much," Matt said, interrupting us as his eyes focused on the mural laying out on the concrete floor. Ted blushed a little, that one had been left out on the floor for a reason.

"That looks great," Grandpa said. "I love how the green tiles seem to be seaweed growing behind her. How much of the pool mural is finished?"

"I'll be done with the four walls around the pool at the end of the week," Ted told him.

"I thought that it would be 1 inch tiles," Grandpa said.

"It made the hidden images too large. By reducing the tile size by half, I'm actually quadrupling the resolution. Now, instead of one tile, there are four. Ted has designed the machine so that tile size adjusts by changing the printer hopper that holds the individual colored tiles. It's just a simple switch in the program that tells it tile size, and how many tiles go in a row. We can only do 24-inch strips at a time, but length is limited only by the length of the mesh sheet. Our mesh sheets are all 10 feet long."

"So this machine will work for more than just magic eye pictures, right?" Grandpa asked, a speculative tone in his voice.

"Yes, any design, any size, with sixteen colors maximum on this machine. We can do patterns, words, pictures, artwork, photographs – the list goes on and on as the software allows for incredible flexibility," I told him.

"This is fantastic," Grandpa said. "It's so much more durable than any other artwork for a building. Have you tested how easy it is to install?"

"Yes, our contractor has a smaller job where the owner wanted a herringbone pattern in his bathroom, using very small tiles and University of Tulsa colors. We printed that out, and he was able to install it in just a couple of hours. He loved it, the owner loved it, it worked so well that he wants to buy one of these for himself."

"Really!" exclaimed Ted, "How much?"

"I told him it was fifty-five thousand for the machine, including service and repairs for a year. So as soon as you're at a point where this is under control, I need you to start building a second one," I instructed Ted.

Ted whooped loudly and danced across the room. Grandpa looked at me for an explanation. "Ted gets half of our sales, minus cost of materials. It's about twenty grand to split. It's part of our deal, I pay for materials, and an hourly wage for him to build and run this machine. He also provides space and electricity for the work."

"Ted's not going to be able to keep up with orders once the pictures of the hotel get spread around," Grandpa noted.

"You're right, I'll hire him as chief engineer when it's time to start a production company."

I turned to Ted, "When is the contractor coming to pick up the tile work?"

"Tomorrow sometime. I've got them all labeled, and another copy of the placement map incase he's lost his again."

"You remembered to mark which end was up, as well as labeling them all?"

"Yes. You can see them right there," he said, pointing to the rolls of tile laid out along one wall.

"How heavy are those?" Matt asked.

Ted answered, "It takes two guys to lift them."

I thanked Ted and climbed back into the van to return to the hotel. Grandpa wanted to know, "How small of a tile can the machine print?"

"Right now, it's a quarter-inch tile. Anything smaller than that becomes difficult to load the machine."

"Will it be done in time for the grand reopening?" Grandpa asked.

"The pool and eight floors will be fully complete on June 1st."

"Which five won't be ready yet?"

"Nine thru Thirteen."

"That's fine, those are mostly the units for leasing," he said.

"I want to do something special for the celebration," I said, a big smile on my face.

"I'm scared to ask, but what are you thinking?"

"Since the city denied your fireworks permit, I want to do a fire tornado on the roof."

"What is that?" Grandpa asked, his expression a fascinating blend of horror and intrigue.

"Just as it sounds, a tornado made of fire. "The tornado is held in place by the machine that spins to make it. It's very impressive, but quite safe if handled carefully. It's just a propane burner and some wind. We will have a small one outside on the street so people will know what it is, otherwise they will think the hotel is on fire."

"That seems pretty crazy," he told me, with a big grin matching mine.

"I agree, way crazy," Matt chimed in.

"So crazy that it will be on every TV news channel in Oklahoma, Kansas, Missouri, Arkansas, and Texas," I told him confidently.

That was advertising dollars Grandpa understood. "Build a little one first so I can see it work. I mean little too, under a foot tall," he insisted.

So when we got back to the hotel I went to to my lab and built a little one, it was hand powered, with a small handle to turn the spinner. For fire it used an alcohol burner from a mobile hot buffet table. For safety I used chicken wire to enclose it on the sides and top.

After lunch I demonstrated it, "Grandpa, Grandma, Mom, I've got something cool to show you."

"What is it?"

I set it on the table, "It's a miniature fire tornado."

I lit the canister that sat on the bottom, and spun the exterior. The flame flickered, then greedily leapt upwards, coalescing into a miniature, dancing twister of fire.

"That's beautiful Johnny," Grandma complimented.

Grandpa pondered it, his brow furrowed, as Mom agreed, "It's very pretty, but isn't that dangerous?"

"This one is, but it's just a proof of concept prototype."

"This is why you picked those names for the restaurants, isn't it?" Grandpa suddenly asked.

I gave him a nod, "We are going to be so famous!" he said.

"I want to build several to go outside around the building for the Grand Reopening Celebration on June 1st."

"Will they be dangerous like this one?" Mom asked, still watching it intently.

"No, I'll enclose them in glass so no one catches themselves on fire."

Mom turned to her Dad, "Where is Ray working today?"

"he's at the lake reviewing the needed maintenance and planned upgrades at Fountainhead."

Mom turned to me, "If your father agrees, and helps you make it safe."

"Okay, I planned on asking for his help for the big one I want to put on the roof."

"How big?" Grandma asked.

I smiled and said, "I'll try to keep it under five hundred feet."

"We better warn the Fire Marshal," Grandpa said.

Mom and Grandma just looked at him as if he were nuts. "This is really pretty. Could you make them a little smaller and nicer? They would really go well on the tables at In Flagrante Delicious—much more attractive than candles," Grandma asked.

"That's a great idea Grandma!" I told her, "The name means literally blazingly delicious. That's why the chef has that charred leek ice cream."

"We will want probably a thousand of them, for the tables and for our gift shop," Mom added, her business sense kicking in.

"There's a company in California that can make them. Grandpa is going to LA next week, maybe Matt and I can go too?" I casually segued.

"Is there something else you plan to do in LA? Last time you went somewhere with Matt you snuck off and bought 25% of that computer game company," Mom questioned, not buying the casualness I was trying to pull off.

"Actually I'm interested in buying a couple more companies. If I can convince two others to sell me 25% of their company, we can merge the three together to form a bigger company."

"Just where are you getting the money for that? You sold your computer games to buy into the last company, you can't sell the same things twice."

"Jennifer said I'm on track to make at least ten million this year from Corning. This is where I want to invest it," I admitted.

"That's insane! Do you how much ten million dollars is?"

"Actually Mom, I'm very good at math, and I know exactly how much ten million dollars is. Do you have any reasonable objections?"

"Go to your room," Mom said heatedly.

"For how long?"

"Until I say you can come out!"

I nodded at my grandparents and went to my room. As I left I could hear Grandpa, "Don't you think you are being a little harsh, Mary?"

I was only in my room for an hour before Mom came to get me. I was writing in my notebook, sitting in my favorite chair.

"You can leave now," she said from the doorway.

"Mom can we talk?" I asked.

"Everybody already said I was overreacting," she said.

"I want to apologize, I could have been much less confrontational or sarcastic."

"So much has changed for us this last year. I'm still unused to it all. Normally I'd be out in the garden this time of year. Here I seem to be cooped up inside all day. I'm sorry too."

I gestured to my bed, and she entered the room to sit facing me. "Mom I love you. Before we moved here you had a house, a family, students. You've helped Grandma with decorations and furnishings here at the hotel. You've done really well, but what are the things you really love doing?"

"I love teaching piano, and I love gardening," she said.

"The rooftop lounge is available everyday for lessons until 3pm when it opens. There's no reason you can't get a few piano students here. We can even open the lounge later if you need the time. I've talked to the music department as the University and they said your credits would transfer. If you finished your degree you could open a conservatory. The local population is big enough that it could support a real music program."

"But I have to be here for you and Mattie!" she said.

Grandma and Grandpa are here, so you don't have to be here all the time. Plus there's no reason you have to do it all in one semester if you don't want to."

"I'm going to think about this. Thank you Johnny. I'll talk to your Dad about you going to California. If we say no, you can't just go anyway, understood?"

"I promise Mom, thank you."

After she left, I called Dad, "Hi Dad."

"Johnny? Is everything okay?"

"Everything's great, I've got a new project I need your help with, we'll talk about that tonight. I called because Mom needs a garden."

"There's not much garden space in the city, Johnny."

"We've got a great big roof, plenty of room up there. I want to surprise her with a rooftop garden."

"You can't just pile dirt up there, and grow stuff."

"We can do raised planter boxes, that way Grandma can help. There's water up there too."

"Okay, draw up some plans, and I'll check them out when we talk about the project you need help with."

"Thanks, Dad. See you tonight."

The next week was busy, as I added designing a steel structure for the hotels fire tornado to my regular work list. Dad approved the plans, and wanted to build it himself because it as just 'so cool' but he just didn't have the free time so Grandpa hired a contractor to build it. The contractor arranged to use a spot at a local quarry for the final assembly and testing. The Tulsa Fire Chief, as well as everyone else, wanted to see it operate safely before we put it on the roof.

On the 16th, we flew out to Los Angeles. There were five of us: Matt and I, Grandpa, Mark Waring and Megan Stoop. The later two being the President and the staff training director of Grandpa's hotel staff company, Grand Lux Personnel. My Dad is President of the facilities side of the business, Grand Lux Properties. Grandpa is the CEO of Grand Lux Hotel Group, with both divisions reporting to him.

We are going to California because Grandpa had just made his largest acquisition, The Ambassador Hotel in Los Angeles. While our hotel home was his first acquisition, he's since picked up resorts and hotels that have either closed or would soon close because of needed maintenance. The Fort Worth Blackstone is the biggest renovation project on our books so far. The LA Ambassador will be an even bigger renovation.

We flew first class, which was a first for all of us. Upon arrival, a limo picked us up and took us to the property. It's huge, 200 acres, and it's also clearly been worn by time. That was fine; Grandpa had big plans for the property. But first, I had a little digging to do.

After we checked in, the adults went off to do a tour of the hotel, meet the staff and assure everyone things will go on, and that renovations will be happening to help the old gal shine again.

I unpacked my clothes, then, with my secret mission in mind, took a garden trowel out of my bag.