2. Good Men Giving Bad News…
Allie Cammareri – Mountain View, California
There aretwo things I hate: spiders and liars. And not necessarily in that order. The first one is because of my cousin Emilio, who thought it would be hilarious to hide a sack of spider eggs in my sock drawer when I was eight. Yeah, what a little fucker, right? Not something you get over, to be honest. I’m thirty-five and I still break out in a cold sweat at the very mention of arachnids. Fun fact: I also gag whenever I see one—even just a photo. But enough about ‘those things’ because I’m feeling a little woozy just thinking about them.
Onto liars, which are far more dangerous (and despicable) than the eight-legged among us. Spiders don’t mean to be creepy and awful, whereas liars know exactly what they’re doing, and that it’s wrong, but they do it anyway. And, yes, I know everybody hates it when people lie. I get that. I’m not special in that regard. But I hate being lied to with a deep, burning passion that burns inside me day and night. I don’t have to go to therapy to discover the cause because it’s pretty damn obvious.
Twice in my life, I’ve fallen head over heels for big, fat liars. My first love (or so I thought) was Ian Miller, a big dumb jock I went to high school with, who made me believe we were a couple so I would do all his homework. He was in danger of being kicked off the football team because of his crappy grades and I was too naive to realize I was just his tutor who he occasionally left hickeys on. Turns out, while I was writing Mrs. Allegra Miller in my notebook and dotting the ‘I’ with a heart, he had an actual girlfriend. She was the head cheerleader from another high school and he was with her the entire time he was pretending to be in love with me. In Ian’s case, you could say, he was just a stupid kid, and leave it at that. I’m not that charitable, however. I’m still mildly pleased at the fact that he never made a college team, never went pro, and now works for animal control. He and the cheerleader had two kids right out of high school, then got divorced and she married a successful realtor. Poor, poor Ian. I feel so bad for him.
My second hugely disappointing teller of non-truths was Lando Allegro. We studied astrophysics together in grad school, and I thought I’d found love—the real and everlasting kind. It was so different than with Ian, because not only did we have a lot in common, we were best friends, and we had a slamming sex life. As an added bonus, Lando comes from a nice Italian family, so he had my parents’ approval. Well, my mom’s anyway. I’m not sure there’s a man on this planet my dad would find acceptable for his little girl. I was one-hundred-percent sure we were going to get married (with me obviously keeping my last name to avoid becoming Allegra Allegro), have little smart babies together, and work side-by-side at NASA every day. I was so in love, I missed all the red flags, and believe me, there were some big ones, like the times he’d go straight to the bathroom when he’d come over and wash his penis in the sink. Yep, not a good sign. Long story short, not only was he cheating on me, but he also stole all my research, took credit for it, and dumped my ass.
Unlike with Ian (who I only think about a couple of times a year), I’m still filled with a level of indignant rage toward Lando that I can’t quite describe. It’s partly due to the fact that we work in the same field. He’s also a radio astronomer working for a rival SETI team, so I not only have to hear about the fabulous advancements he makes (all of which I’m sure he’s stealing from co-workers), but I also have to see him at every conference. Just the sight of his weaselly face causes me to seethe with anger. On my more petty days, I’ve googled ‘glitter bomb companies,’ and also may or may not have considered going down to the local dog park for ‘samples’ to ship to his house in Virginia. I haven’t done it though, because I have a much better way to get back at him—I’m going to out-astronomer him. It’s taken me ten long years to figure out how, but it’s about to happen. At least, I hope.
In exactly two minutes, I’m going to find out if my shot at taking down Lando the Liar is still a possibility. I’m currently walking upstairs to my boss’s third floor office, where he’s going to give me the good news. Or the bad news. My stomach is in knots as I stare at his name placard: Keenan Edward, Director.
It’s definitely going to be a yes. Keenan’s an amazing boss. He trusts his staff, and more than that, he believes in us. I’m sure he has every faith I’ll finish my project in time to present at the International SETI Forum. It takes place in two months in Zurich and is pretty much the SETI Olympics in that it only happens once every four years and only the best of the best get to speak. The rest of us peons have to sit there and listen. I’ve never been allowed to present, which is fine because I’ve never had anything cutting edge to share. Until now, that is. Well, almost. Not quite yet, but if I stay focused for another couple of days (okay, weeks), I’m going to have a presentation that will blow the roof off the auditorium.
But presenting at the conference isn’t the only reason I’ve been replacing sleep with caffeine and sugar for months. There’s another researcher working on the same thing—and it’s none other than Lando Allegro. Actually, he’s got a team of three people, whereas I’m working alone (which is my preferred way to work after getting screwed over by Lando, the Screwer-Over). We’re in a sprint to the finish and, as in all races, to the victor will go all the spoils. In this case, it’ll mean having your name in bold face in future astronomy textbooks the world over as the person responsible for advancing humanity’s knowledge of extraterrestrial intelligence by hundreds of years all in one shot. I intend to have my name in bold, and more importantly, I want Lando the Liar to go down in history as the nothing he is. I’m going to beat him for once. And it’s going to be glorious. Wonderful. Freeing. All my rage will instantly disappear. Poof. Gone. I’ll finally be able to evict him from my brain, where he’s been squatting for a pathetic twelve years.
I can just picture myself standing at the podium delivering my speech while he sits fuming in the audience, knowing I got the best of him. I can almost taste the justice of that moment now, and it is sweet. Suck on that, Lando, you hack. I am the better scientist. Mic drop.
Taking a deep breath, I knock at the door.
“Come in,” Keenan calls.
When I do, he gestures for me to have a seat across from his desk. His space heater is humming under his desk and piles of papers are stacked on every surface. His curly gray hair pokes out from behind a particularly tall stack, and he has to shift to the right so we can make eye contact. “Allegra, how’s your project coming?”
“I am so close, Keenan. So close,” I tell him.
“Really?” he asks with a bright smile. “So you’re ready for the validation phase?”
Crap. Why couldn’t he just let me leave it at ‘so close?’ “Not just yet, but once I get there?—”
“It’ll happen at lightning speed,” he says, quoting me from the last several times we’ve spoken about my AI project I lovingly call Frank after Frank Drake, the father of SETI.
“I know I keep saying that, but seriously, it will go really, really fast, and Frank is getting so much better at detecting repeated signals.”
Nodding, Keenan says, “What’s he detected so far?”
“A lighthouse off the coast of Finland.”
Keenan purses his lips and makes a little hmph sound. “That’s definitely some real progress, Allie.”
“Thanks. I know it’s not what we were hoping for at this point, but trust me, now that Frank’s done it once, the sky is the limit.” (That’s the astronomy equivalent of a dad joke, by the way.)
“Unfortunately, you’re still quite far from getting results you can test and verify,” Keenan says. “Whereas, aside from a few tweaks, Chad’s project is basically done.”
No, no, no, no, no. Not Chad. Anyone but Chad. Chad’s the assistant director. Think Dwight Schrute from The Office, only without the charm or sense of style.
Before I can protest, Keenan continues. “I’ve spoken to the organizers of the forum, and, unfortunately, we can only have one speaker. With the influx of programs around the globe since the last summit, we’d be there for several weeks if everyone got a chance to present.”
Crap. He’s saying no, isn’t he?
“I’m truly sorry, but I’m afraid I’m going to have to call it. I’m submitting Chad’s name as our team’s speaker.”
Don’t cry. Do not cry, whatever you do. I dig my nails into my palms and blink quickly while trying to smile. “Are you sure you can’t give me a few more weeks?”
“I’m positive. I know you were really hoping to make your mark this year and I’m sorry it’s not going to happen. Four years feels like a very long time when you’re young, but believe me, it’ll zip by,” he says with a knowing smile.
Four years feels like a very long time because it is a very long time. “It’s really not just about presenting at the forum. It’s about sharing my research and changing the entire way SETI researchers do our work.”
“And you’ll still be able to share it. Just not at the forum.”
“But if the Virginia team gets to present, everyone is going to use their system instead of mine, and I know for a fact, mine is going to outperform theirs.” Sitting forward in my chair, I say, “Can you just give me one more month, Keenan? One more. I’ll work literally around the clock. I’m so close. I know I can get there in time.”
“I don’t want you running yourself into the ground,” he says. “Remember, good science is not done in a hurry.”
“Yeah, but … in this case, it’s just so vital to me that I get a shot at it at least,” I tell him.
“Why’s it so important to you?” he asks.
Because this is my one chance to beat a lying sack of crap. “Because I truly believe that if implemented on a global scale, Frank is going to advance our project exponentially. We’ve always thought contact could take another four hundred years, but what if it could actually be achieved in our lifetime?”
He stares at me just long enough for hope to build in my chest. Then he shakes his head. “In that case, rushing it is most definitely a mistake. Take your time. If your system truly is superior, once you publish your results, people will switch over, even if they’ve already adopted the Virginia team’s system.”
“But—”
“For your own sake, the answer is no.”
Five minutes later, I’m back at my desk stewing about being given a hard no. My best friend, Gwen, floats into our office with Starbucks for both of us. “Good morning,” she says, just shy of actually singing. Gwen is madly in love with Ty Sterling, the billionaire who backs our program. She smiles down at me as she sets my latte on my desk, reminding me very much of Snow White as she bats her eyelashes. If I didn’t love her so much, I’d totally hate her.
“Thank you,” I say, picking up my drink and having a sip of the warm, frothy liquid. “Is there booze in this? Because I could definitely use some alcohol right now.”
“I take it your meeting with Keenan didn’t go well?” she asks, flopping down onto her chair.
I shake my head, tears pricking the backs of my eyes.
Gwen scrunches up her face. “Please tell me he’s not picking Chad.”
“That’s exactly what he’s doing.”
We both shudder and say, “Chad.”
“I’m sorry, sweetie,” she says. “That sucks fur balls.”
“It really does, especially because I know Frank can do it. We just need a few more weeks.” I look at my screen, squinting my eyes at Frank’s latest attempt at tweezing out a needle from the haystack of signals I’ve given him. “Crap. I’m pretty sure he’s just detected a Boeing 707 again.”
“Just like a man. Can’t find anything, even if it’s in plain sight.” She puts on a goofy man voice and says, “Honey, are we out of ketchup?” Returning her voice to normal, she says, “It’s right there. Behind the olives.”
“I should’ve named him after a woman.”
There’s a knock on the door, then Chad comes strolling in and plants himself on the corner of my desk. “I guess you’ve heard the big news by now.”
“Yup,” I answer.
He smirks down at me. “Look, it’ll happen for you eventually. You’re just not ready yet, Allie. But don’t feel bad. Few people are. As assistant director, I have an edge. It just looks better for us to send one of the men at the top to represent our team.”
The fact that he said ‘men’ is no accident. Chad’s as sexist as a day on Venus is long, and since a single day on Venus is the equivalent of 243 Earth days, he’s pretty fucking sexist. He looks over at Gwen. “Pretty cool that I get to present, hey?”
She just blinks slowly at him in response.
“What? Don’t tell me you think she should go instead of me? I know you’re friends and all, but seriously, even you must admit I’m the guy who’s getting things done around here.”
Picking up her coffee, Gwen has a long swig of it without breaking eye contact, and it occurs to me that Chad makes Frank look like a freaking genius at picking up signals.
“Oh, I get it. The ladies of STEM have to stick together, right? Forget logic and reason, you’re all about girl power.” He does a fist pump to emphasize his point.
Gwen glares at him. “Allie is on the precipice of the biggest breakthrough in SETI history. If she can get it done in time, she should one-hundred-percent be presenting.”
“Well, Keenan and I don’t think she’s ready,” he says, turning to me. “So it would be a lot better if you can just learn to accept that.”
There’s no way in hell Keenan consulted Chad on the matter. And yet, like the giant douche waffle he is, Chad’s pretending he had something to do with the decision.
Fixing him with a steely gaze, Gwen says, “If there’s nothing else you came to say, we should all get back to work.”
“You’re not my boss, Gwendolyn,” Chad tells her. “You’re the person sleeping with him, which, quite frankly, is a whole different thing.”
Ah, hell no.“Did you just say that?!” I snap. “Did you actually just say that to Gwen? Our hero?! The woman who single-handedly saved our program?”
He shrugs. “If you call what she did heroic.”
“You certainly couldn’t have done it,” I tell him.
“Yeah, because Mr. Sterling isn’t gay.”
“He did not give us funding because she slept with him.” Turning to Gwen, I say, “Although I’m sure you’re very talented in that department.” Glaring at Chad, I continue. “She convinced him with her beautiful mind. And for that, she’s owed a debt of gratitude. If it weren’t for her, you’d be … living in your parents’ basement, spending your days trolling people online.”
“Don’t you live in your parents’ basement?” he asks.
“I live upstairs, thank you very much,” I answer, my voice shaking with anger. “And I only moved back in with them because my father had a stroke.”
Chad snorts, then stands up. “Yeah, years ago, and if I’m not mistaken, he’s fine now. Anyway, you ladies should get back to work. I’d hate to have to tell Keenan you’re slacking.”
He hurries out before Gwen can throw a stapler at him.
As soon as he’s gone, I get up and shut the door. Turning to Gwen, I let out a growl. “Oh my God, Gwen, if that jackass gets to present instead of me, I’m going to lose it.”
“Um, it sounds like it’s a done deal.”
“Yeah, he may believe that and Keenan may believe that, but they’re both dead wrong,” I tell her, sitting back down.
“But Keenan’s putting Chad’s name forward.”
“Well as soon as I get Frank up and running, he won’t have a choice but to change his mind. No way Keenan’s going to let Chad give his stupid ‘Space is Big’ presentation.” Putting on a face, I say, “Oh, is space big? We had no idea, numb nuts.”
Gwen laughs, then her smile fades. “Listen, you might have to accept that there’s a really good chance Keenan is going to let him present.”
“What makes you think that?”
She looks at me like I’m insane. “Because he said he is.”
“Oh, that.” I wave off her words. “I’m about to make the biggest leap forward in SETI history. If I can do it before the conference starts, even if Keenan puts Chad’s stupid name down, the conference organizers will make room for me. They’ll have to because it’ll be the only thing anyone will want to talk about.”
She gives me a ‘that could work’ look. “All right, I see where you’re going with this.”
“Yeah, you do!” I give her a firm nod. “No way am I letting Lando win. Or Chad. Even if I have to stay awake for the next six weeks straight. Even if I have to start wearing adult diapers. Even if it kills me!” Tilting my head, I add, “Well, maybe not the diaper thing. But the point is, I’m not letting the opportunity to crush either of those assholes pass me by. And I’m not just doing it for me. I’m doing it for women in STEM everywhere because it’s time for us to triumph over the sexist, cheating, lying asshats of the world.”
“Amen, sister.”
“Amen.”
Now, if only I knew how to get this freaking thing to work…