The Scientist

Chapter 3

I t occurred to me that after a little over a month of living in California, last night was only the third night I’d actually slept in my new home. It was time for life to resume some type of normalcy, which included work and maybe even an attempt to make friends with someone other than my chromosome collaborator.

I arrived at the Stanford Faculty Club and texted Sarah to let her know I’d made it. I had those first day of school jitters, except the butterflies felt more like ostriches performing barrel rolls inside my stomach. Luckily, I knew I’d have at least one friendly face in Sarah. I checked my hair and makeup in the mirror one last time before I got out the car and smoothed down my burgundy wrap dress.

My phone dinged with a text from Sarah saying to meet her inside.I made my way inside the hall and started searching through the packed crowd for her. The hall was lined with floor to ceiling windows on each side with beautiful wooden beams running along the pitched ceiling and farmhouse-style chandeliers throughout. I finally spotted my old friend pushing her way through the crowd with that huge megawatt smile on her face. She looked almost exactly the same as when I had met her ten years ago with the exception of her raven hair cut a lot shorter, hitting her at the shoulder instead of the waist.

“You made it!” she squealed, and we laughed, embracing in a tight hug.

“It’s so good to see you,” I said as a few people bumped into us standing in the middle of the walkway.

“I know! I’m beyond excited that you’re here,” she said, walking us out of the foot traffic. “I’m so sorry to hear about your mom though. How is she? Did the surgery go well?”

I had filled her in on why we were moving to California, and she had periodically checked in on us throughout the process.

“She’s great. The surgery went well, so she’ll be starting chemo next week actually.”

“Wow. I’m sure it must be overwhelming having to deal with all of that on top of moving to a whole new state.”

“She’s strong. We’ll get through it together.”

She smiled at me sympathetically. Sarah and I were roommates in college for a brief period when she was a senior, and I was just starting out at Northwestern. She graduated the semester after we started living together, but we had really hit it off during our short stint as roomies. She was a classically trained pianist, who looked like a cross between Jackie O. and Snow White. She’d practice Mozart by day and blare German industrial rock by night. I remember loving the dichotomy of how she looked and dressed in comparison to how she acted.She looked like a housewife from the fifties but could make Tupac blush with the obscenities that would spew from her mouth, especially if she’d been drinking. I couldn’t wait to reconnect with her.

“Well, even though it’s not under the best circumstances, I’m glad to have you here.” She looped her arm through mine as we made our way through the hall.

“Thanks again for helping me get the interview.”

“Please! With your resume, they were thanking me for bringing you to them,” she said. “Speaking of interviews though, you’ll definitely have to interact with Captain Creeper tonight. But hopefully, he’ll be trying to kiss ass with the big wigs for most of the night.”

“Hopefully,” I agreed. I’d hate to get fired before I even started for a knee to the groin type interaction with the boss.

“Come on, let me introduce you to some of your new coworkers. I have one in particular that is dying to meet you.”

“Why? What did you tell them about me?” I asked skeptically.

She just laughed as we walked up to a table that sat roughly ten people, but there were only five people presently seated.

“Hadley, I’d like you to meet Anna Huong, Instrumental Composition; Stanley Applebaum, Music History; Sally Jones, Sound Engineering; Talya Kenashiro,Ethnomusicology; and my dear friend Lionel Vaughn, Music Technology.Everyone, this is Hadley Olivier, our new adjunct Music Composition professor.”

“Nice to meet you all,” I said, taking a seat next to Lionel, who was practically bouncing up and down on the edge of his seat. He looked to be in his early thirties with an ethnicity I couldn’t quite place. He had both Asian and Hispanic features with a neatly trimmed mustache and sporting a pair of really cool retro green glasses.

“You’re Hadley Olivier,” he said with barely contained enthusiasm. “You have no idea how freaking excited I am to meet you! My sister and I saw you perform a few years ago asPerón's Mistress in the Broadway production of Evita . You were incredible! I cannot believe you’re here at Stanford.”

“Thank you so much,” I said, a little surprised someone here knew who I was. I had done a lot of work on Broadway over the past five years, so most of the die-hard musical theatre fans in New York were familiar with my work, but I wasn’t expecting that here. I loved to sing, so I’d done a few acting/singing roles in plays over the years, but my heart was definitely in composition.

“You’re a singer then?” the woman named Talya asked.

“Yes, I’ve performed in a few plays and sang backup on different soundtracks. But composition is my first love.”

“Don’t let her fool you. She’s worked with some of the biggest stars in the biz,” Lionel announced. “I heard you wrote music for Phoebe Bridgers and Frank Ocean.”

“Calm down, Lionel. You’re drooling all over her,” Sarah told him.

“Sorry! If you can’t tell, I’m a huge fan. It’s not fair you’re that talented and also that gorgeous. I both love you and hate you in equal parts.”

“This is a very prestigious university with a well-respected music program,” Stanley interrupted. He looked to be in his late forties with a mild resemblance toJacques Cousteau. “I hope you didn’t come here thinking your minor celebrity would allow you to skate by without putting in some real effort.”

What the fuck was his problem?

“Fuck off, Stanley,” Sarah snapped at him from across the table. “The only reason you got a job here is because your dad plays golf with the president of the university.”

“Yeah, and didn’t you almost get dropped last semester because enrollment for your class was so low?” Lionel added.

“Kids these days just aren’t as interested in the history of music as they once were,” he said, turning a deep shade of red.

“Isn’t music history a required course for all undergrads?” Sarah asked pointedly.

“It is indeed, my friend,” Lionel chimed in. “That’s why you see Professor Graham’s history classes packed to the gills. None of the students want to listen to Rumpleforeskin over here for an entire semester.”

There were a few snickers from the rest of the table while Stanley stood up scoffing, and walked away from the table.

“Keep rolling your eyes, Stan. You might eventually find a brain in there,” Sarah called after him.

This was definitely not the first impression I wanted to make with my new coworkers.

“Don’t worry about that queef dumpster,” Lionel said, patting me on the back. “He gets intimidated by anyone with actual talent and real-world experience since he’s completely lacking in both.”

The others at the table nodded in agreement, so I figured I might not be the problem here.

Just as I glanced up from the table, I recognized a familiar face heading our way.

“Incoming,” Lionel said low, under his breath. “Cover your tits, ladies.”

Dr. William Abel was making his way toward us with that same creepy smile he wore like a uniform, and his focus seemed to be aimed at the only new person at the table.

“Ms. Olivier,” he said, eyes wide, mouth parted. “Nice to see you again.”

“Hi, Dr. Abel.” I stood, greeting him as politely as I could manage. “Thank you again for giving me this opportunity.”

“We’re happy to have you. And please, call me Will.”

Yeah, I wouldn’t be doing that.

“I see you wore your hair down for the evening,” he noted.

I had my hair pulled back into a low ponytail in our interview but having the difference in my hairstyle choice pointed out rendered me speechless for a moment.

“Yes, that’s true. I decided to change it up,” I finally said.

“Sometimes you just gotta let your hair down, eh?” He laughed, nudging me with his elbow.

“Dr. Abel, isn’t it lucky that we were able to snag Hadley for our team?” Lionel said, saving me from the awkward encounter. “Stanley was just saying how qualified he thinks Hadley is.”

Sarah had to cough to cover up her laughter.

“He’s absolutely right. We’re quite lucky to have you.” He put his arm around my shoulder, eyes zooming in on my chest. I made huge“help me”eyes at Sarah.

“You know, I heard Stanley saying he was going talk to the president. Something about wanting to update him on plans for the music department this year,” Sarah said, distracting him.

“What?!” Dr. Abel cried indignantly. He let go of my shoulder, and I stepped away from him, hurrying to take a seat.

“We tried to tell him we didn’t think that was his job,” Lionel said, feigning innocence.

“I should think not!” he said, his face turning purple with outrage. His head swung around, searching for Stanley. As he marched away, we heard him muttering, “He thinks just because his father and Benson are golf buddies…”

When he was finally out of earshot, Lionel and Sarah burst out laughing, and I couldn’t help but join in. Even the other ladies at the table seemed amused by the little show happening in front of them.

“Did you see his face? He hates the thought of someone else getting to be up Benson’s ass!” Lionel said, still wheezing with laughter.

Dr. Richard Benson was president of the university and was seated at one of the tables near the stage at the very front of the hall. I recognized him from the university newsletters I started receiving once I was officially on staff. He was currently surrounded by a crowd of people trying to get a word with him, one of those people being Dr. Abel.

“Benson won’t give him the time of day,” Lionel noted, looking over at his table. “He’s too busy walking his new show pony around for everyone to see.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“Word on the street is the university acquired some uber-famous scientist,” Lionel answered. “Everyone’s been talking about this guy, but I’ve never heard of him.”

“That’s only because he’s never been employed by the Bravo network,” Sarah quipped.

“ Anyway ,” Lionel said, shooting her a look. “Benson’s been strutting around proud as a peacock all evening showing him off to everyone.”

“I heard the peacock got into a bidding war over him with Yale and Columbia,” Sarah added.

“Who is he?” I asked curiously.

“I think his name’s Polinski maybe, I don’t know,” Lionel said. “All I know is that we paid a pretty penny to have him here.”

“What are we talking?”

“Millions in grant money.”

My eyes widened with shock. “Holy shit!”

“Yeah. Apparently, he’s this super genius. And young too, only thirty-three. They think he has a shot at winning a Nobel Prize for his research in Alzheimer’s, so I’m sure Benson wants to be able to claim Stanford had a part in it.”

Sarah inclined her head toward Lionel. “Tell me again what the budget for our department was last year.”

“You don’t want to know.”

“That’s what I thought,” she said, shaking her head. “Okay, well let’s try and get some food before the other more important departments take all the good shit.”

A few other faculty members from the department came and joined us as we ate the surprisingly good food from the buffet, including Stanley, who we saw Dr. Abel laying into while we were waiting in line. He spent the entirety of the meal looking down at his plate and appearing immensely disgruntled.I pretended not to notice as Sarah and I caught up on each other’s lives over the past ten years with Lionel interjecting to tell some amusing stories of his and Sarah’s time together at Stanford.

About an hour into the evening, Dr. Benson took to the small stage at the front of the room where there was a lone podium with a microphone, and began his introductions.

“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. For those of you who don’t know me, my name is Dr. Richard Benson, and I’m the president of the university here at Stanford. I want to give a warm welcome to all of our faculty and staff and especially to our newest team members. It is my sincere hope that you find Stanford to be a home away from home and that we can all join together with the common goal of educating future generations of scholars.”

He stood tall with both hands planted firmly on the podium, exuding a calm authority, his eyes sweeping across the crowd as he spoke.

“I’d like to introduce you all to one of our newest faculty members, who we were lucky enough to have join our team this semester. He’s a world-renowned neurobiologist, acclaimed author, and winner of last year’s Fellowship of the American Association for the Advancement of Science —Dr. Alexsander Strovinski. I am convinced that this gifted young man will be a tremendous asset to all of us here at Stanford, students and teachers alike.”

Everyone applauded as Dr. Strovinski took the stage. Dr. Benson reached out to shake his hand, pulling him in for a half hug and whispering something in his ear.

“I think Benson’s in love,” Lionel whispered to us.

I knew Lionel said he was young, but I was still surprised to see just how young he actually was. For some reason, in my mind, all scientists looked like Doc Brown from Back to the Future . But this man had thick brown hair that was so dark, it could have passed for black in the right lighting. He wore a pair of simple, rimless, rectangle glasses, and a perfectly tailored gray suit with no tie.

The entire room grew quiet. Not even the sound of cutlery hitting dinner plates could be heard as he stood at the podium waiting to speak. I was just as intrigued as the rest of the room seemed to be.

“Hi, I’m Dr. Alexsander Strovinski.” He paused, looking out amongst the crowd. “I’m grateful to be here with you all tonight and to have even been offered a position as an instructor here at Stanford, seeing as I’ve never taught a day in my life.”

A soft murmur of laughter echoed throughout the room. Everyone seemed to be sitting up a little straighter, waiting for whatever he was going to say next.

“Despite the shortcomings in my resume, Dr. Benson asked me to say a few words to you all tonight about academia and the pursuit of higher learning. With no experience to draw from, this had me wondering what, if anything, I could bring to the conversation. What I can say is that I’ve studied and done research in the field of neurobiology over the last thirteen years of my life, and in that time, I’ve been able to draw a few steadfast conclusions I’d like to share with you all. So, in that regard, this is my first lesson and you are my first students.”

He looked around, smiling modestly as more hushed laughter filled the room.He had a deep, rich timbre to his voice that commanded attention even though his manner seemed quite reserved.

“Our brains are composed of complex neurotransmitters that propagate electrical signals to neighboring neurons by the thousands, leading to what we know as thought formation. We spend nearly every moment of our lives wrapped in our own thoughts, often held hostage to the nature of those thoughts. They have led to mankind’s greatest achievements as well as our greatest failures as a species. Our thoughts, however, are all we possess at any given moment and are all we really have to offer one another.”

I couldn’t stop my brain from putting him under a microscope and noting each of his mannerisms as he spoke—the subtle tilt to his head, the punctuation of certain words to emphasize a point, the way he brushed a lock of hair away from his brow. He had an effortless grace.

“To me, this idea forms the basis for what our true purpose as educators really is: the realization that there are truths to be known in this life, and the discovery of those truths can have a remarkable impact on society. Whether that impact is good or bad is yet to be determined, because the pursuit of knowledge is a uniquely human endeavor, and we are not without flaws. There must first be a willingness to have your beliefs modified by new evidence and an openness to controversy and self-doubt, which will ultimately lead to enlightenment.”

He paused to look around the room, his eyes scanning the crowd as he moved away from the podium to stand at the center of the stage. The room was so quiet, we could all still hear him perfectly even without the microphone.

“I love science on principle because it is the most durable way of thinking. It transcends any cultural or political boundaries a person may have and does not limit itself to what can currently be proven but asks the question of what can potentially be proven. There is a phenomenon in neuroscience known as the Kanizsa triangle in which three spatially separated fragments give the impression of a bright white triangle.Your brain, when given this image,sees the breaks in the shapes, and if given no further input, will assume there is a figure in front of the lines. What this phenomenon demonstrates is thatwe have the capability to perceive objects that are not really there. We want somethingmore. But it is only with a holistic approach that our brains display aninfiniteability to be creative. Thisability is what sets us apart from all other species, and you merely have to open your eyes to see it.”

He was pacing back and forth across the small stage as he spoke, his movements so relaxed and engaging. There was a fluidity to them that mirrored the ebb and flow of his words, leaving me and the rest of the audience spellbound. Ididn’t even blink, my mind intent on catching every detail.

For a brief moment, we locked eyes, and I felt myself lean forward involuntarily. He froze mid-stride, abandoning his pacing to stand rooted at the center of the stage, his gaze fixed firmly on mine.

His lips moved, carrying on with the speech, but his focus never wavered—every word felt like it was meant for me. But perhaps he was making everyone else in the audience feel the same way.

“The materialization of mankind’s genius is all around us: great feats of engineering, feats of architecture, music, literature… all of which did not come about without the help of those willing to share their thoughts and knowledge with others. It is with this understanding that I will treat my new responsibility as an educator with the utmost care and devotion required of such an important position, as I hope everyone in this room will. A little education and a great amount of kindness is what is required if we are to secure harmony in this life and the lives of those who will come after us. Thank you very much."

He concluded his speech, his eyes lingering on me. Or at least, it felt that way. Though, to be fair, I often had the starring role in my own delusions.

The room fell silent for a few moments after he finished, still and reverent, before bursting into thunderous applause. I watched him blink rapidly, breaking the connection, and shifted his focus to scan the crowd.

He was a beautiful speaker, that much was clear, but what made the whole thing even more impressive was that he never once looked down at any kind of notes during his speech.

I wasn’t ready for it to be over. I felt like I could have listened to him speak all night, even if the topics were way over my head. I guess I wasn’t the only one, because he was swarmed as soon as he stepped off the stage.

“Wasn’t he incredible?” Dr. Abel said, walking up to our table. “Dr. Benson told me that he’s the smartest person he’s ever met. And that’s saying something.”

“Do you think he knows Taylor Swift?” Lionel asked.

Dr. Abel gave him an exasperated look. “Why in the world would you ask that, Mr. Vaughn?”

“Well, they have a lot in common… she’s also a genius,” Lionel said seriously. “And they both have a way with words with the same kind of dedicated fan base.”

Dr. Abel shook his head. “I never have any idea what you’re talking about.”

“If I had a dollar…”

“I think I should go over and introduce myself,” Dr. Abel said, ignoring Lionel and glancing over his shoulder. “He’ll probably want to meet all the department heads.”

“I don’t think he’s interested in us, Dr. Abel. Unless you think he’s suddenly dying to learn about classical harmonic keys and chord progression,” Sarah chimed in.

“Maybe not, Ms. Samaha, but Dr. Benson said he’s new to this area and probably doesn’t know too many people. We should make him feel welcome.”

“Doesn’t look like he’s having trouble meeting new people to me,” Lionel pointed out.

“Hadley, you’re new too. Why don’t you come with me?” he said, ignoring Lionel again. “It would probably make him feel more at ease to know he’s not the only newcomer.”

“Oh, I don’t think—” I started.

“I insist,” he interrupted, gesturing for me to follow. I sighed. Sarah and Lionel looked on sympathetically, but there wasn’t much they could do now.

“See if he knows Taylor!” Lionel called out to me as we headed toward the mob.

I followed along after Dr. Abel as he pushed his way through the throng of people surrounding the Drs. Benson and Strovinski. After a lot of“excuse-me's”and“so-sorrys,” we finally made it to where they were both standing. They were deep in conversation with a group of fellow admirers, so I was a little shocked when Dr. Abel tapped on Strovinski’s shoulder as he was mid-sentence. He stopped talking abruptly and turned to see the cause of the interruption. He glanced down briefly at Dr. Abel, who was a great deal shorter than him, before he spotted me standing there, his gaze unyielding as he took me in.

Did he think I was the one who crassly tapped on his shoulder? He must have, the way he was staring at me so intently.

“Hi, Dr. Strovinski,” my new boss said, trying to get his attention. “I’m Dr. William Abel. It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir.”

Dr. Abel stuck his hand out toward the man, who finally pulled his eyes from me and accepted the handshake.

“What do you need, Will?” Benson said, turning and looking annoyed by our presence.

“I wanted to introduce myself to Dr. Strovinski. As head of the music department, I thought it important he know that he can come to me for anything.”

“Okay, that’s great. Thank you, Will,” Benson said dismissively.

Dr. Abel continued on anyway.“I’d also like to introduce you to my colleague, Hadley Olivier. This will be her first semester teaching as well, so you’re not the only novice in the bunch.”

“Hi, it’s nice to meet you.” I smiled politely, but he didn’t return the gesture. He stood a little over six feet tall with warm, whiskey-colored eyes that seemed fixated on me once again. Up close, I noted his well-defined cheekbones and full lips offset perfectly with the squareness of his jawline.

“Your speech was really great,” I said, trying again.

“Thank you,” he said curtly. Man, he was really holding a grudge about this shoulder tap.

“I understand you’re doing Alzheimer’s research.” I was determined to break the awkward silence that followed his short response.

Benson turned to face me. “Are you familiar with Dr. Strovinski’s work?”

I shook my head. “No, the only doctor whose work I’m familiar with is Dr. Dre.”

I felt Dr. Abel go stiff standing next to me, while Benson stared at me with a puzzled expression.

“Who is Dr. Dre?” Benson asked. “Is he also a scientist? I don’t think I’ve ever heard of him.”

I couldn’t believe my ears.

“Dr. Dre,” I said, staring in disbelief. And because I didn’t know when to shut my big mouth, I continued to ramble. “You know…” I said awkwardly. “‘The Chronic?’… ‘California Love?’… ‘Nothing but a G Thing?’”

Benson was looking at me like I’d grown two heads.

“I believe he’s a rapper, sir,” Dr. Abel said, looking like he wished he’d never brought me over here.

Wrong crowd, I guess. Although I could have sworn I saw Strovinski’s lip quirk ever so slightly.

Benson narrowed his eyes at me. “What is it you’re going to be teaching, Ms. Olivier?”

Shit . Should’ve flown under the radar.

“Music composition.”

“I can assure you, she is more than qualified for the position, sir,” Abel said, trying to save face for my little faux pas.

“I’m sure she is,” he responded doubtfully.

Dr. Abel planted a big smile on his face. “Actually, Hadley hails to us all the way from The Big Apple.”

Benson nodded slowly like he couldn’t have found this topic any less interesting.

“Great cheesecake,” I said, just throwing something at the wall of awkwardness and hoping it would stick. They all just stared at me, not saying a word.

“Dr. Strovinski, could I steal you for a moment for a few photos?” A man with a rather large camera had come up, saving me from the unpleasant encounter. I took that as a chance to escape, slipping out through the crowd and making my way back to our table, not bothering to wait for Dr. Abel.

I decided it was definitely time for me to be heading home before I embarrassed myself any further. I said my goodbyes to Sarah and Lionel and the rest of my new coworkers. As I was leaving, I dared another glance toward the photo-op area to see a pair of whiskey-colored eyes following me as I departed.