CHAPTER ELEVEN
"Leonard," Sheldon said as he uneasily alighted from the hired car, "where are we?"
"It looks like a strip club," Leonard answered. "Although the sign says it's a 'Gentlemen's Establishment,' so maybe I'm mistaken and we'll just get lessons about which fork to use for the Caesar salad," he said sarcastically. Sheldon wasn't amused.
"Don't be naïve, Leonard," he said. "There's a silhouette of a naked woman on the door. Even I can see this is what my mother used to call the 'whore pit.' My father frequented them during the early days of his midlife crisis. And for the rest of his life, for that matter."
"Well, considering this is the haunt of choice for a world-renowned physicist, your father was in good company."
"Dr. Olson is almost 70 and has never even been married. Why would he possibly want to darken the door of a strip club?"
"Um, maybe because he's almost 70 and has never even been married?"
"Well, I have never entered a "gentlemen's establishment' before," Sheldon said, "and I don't intend to today." He backed up and opened the door of the soon departing car.
"Wait, wait, wait," Leonard pleaded. "Some of these places have a back room. Maybe he just came here for the menu, but we'll be cordoned off to enjoy food and fellowship with one of the great minds of our times."
Sheldon stared at the car, then back at Leonard, then back at the car before he slowly shut the door. "I will give this 'James T. Olson' a chance to redeem himself, but if even a sesame seed crosses my lips in this filthy place, I will not be responsible for my actions, so help me God or any other mythical force of good."
Leonard tapped on the car, signaling the driver to leave. They flashed their IDs to the bouncer and went inside.
"Yes, we're here with the James T. Olson party," Leonard said to the attendant by the door.
"This way," said the attendant, and then led them off to a private room.
"See. I told you," Leonard said over his shoulder as they wound their way through early-evening revelers.
The attendant pulled back a curtain and waved them inside. Seated on a lounger were Dr. Olson and several other men that Leonard didn't recognize. On a nearby table was an assortment of meats and sauces and hard breads, not to mention libations. At the sight of them, Dr. Olson jumped up and grasped Leonard's hand with with a firm shake.
"So glad you could join us, Dr. Hofstadter," he said enthusiastically.
"Please, call me Leonard," Leonard said.
"Noted."
"Can I call you James?" Leonard asked nervously.
"No," Dr. Olson replied flatly. He turned his attention to Sheldon. "And this must be your friend Dr. Cooper." He held out his hand, but Sheldon recoiled at the gesture.
"I'd prefer to keep a professional distance. Never has the old adage, 'I don't know where your hands have been' rung truer." He paused. "By the way, I'm a huge fan of your work."
"Very well then," Dr. Olson said. "One out of two ain't bad." He motioned for them to sit down. Both men did with notable trepidation. Sheldon leaned in close and whispered into Leonard's ear.
"Do you think that patrons have actually engaged in coitus on these seats?" he asked.
"There's a real chance of some fluid exchange," he said. The words had barely crossed his lips before Sheldon popped up and stood.
"I'm sorry, is there a problem?" Dr. Olson asked.
"Yes. This place would probably look like a firework display on the Fourth of July under the scrutiny of a black light."
"What you don't know can't hurt you," Dr. Olson said jovially.
"Surely that can't be your personal motto. You've spent a lifetime probing the unknown."
"In more ways than one," Dr. Olson said, and erupted in laughter along with many of his guests. Just then, a woman clad in little more than a bikini appeared from behind the curtain.
"Alright boys," she purred seductively. "May the games begin."
Minutes later, Leonard and Sheldon found themselves walking down the street.
"We might be the first two men in history to be thrown out of strip club for being too sober and prudish," Leonard said.
"An honor I treasure," Sheldon said. "That place was, quite likely, the most lascivious and unsanitary location I've ever encountered. And those women refused to take no for an answer."
"Yeah, but that's their job, Sheldon. Besides, threatening to stun the stripper with the Vulcan nerve pinch if she touched you was a bit excessive."
"I had no intentions of actually injuring her, Leonard. It was simply a ploy to discourage her advances."
"You could have gotten us arrested."
"Which, honestly, would have been a welcomed alternative to a lap dance. While I do not look forward to being incarcerated, pardon my French, Leonard, but… c'est la vie."
Leonard sighed. "So what's next?"
"Well," Sheldon said, looking at his watch. "As it is only 8:13, we still might be able catch a bus back to the hotel."
"Awww, c'mon Sheldon. This is our guy time, remember? Surely we can find something more adventurous to do than whine into Skype at our women back home about how much we miss them."
Sheldon sighed. "Fine, what do you have in mind? A trip to an all-night Barnes and Noble? A decaf latte at a nearby coffee shop? A pick-up game of Dungeons and Dragons?"
Leonard pointed. "A bar."
Sheldon wilted. "Dear Lord."
"Come on, it shouldn't be so bad."
"That's what you said about the strip club."
After crossing the street, they walked into Barry's Bar and Grill. A sign out front touted the place as D.C.'s Number One Watering Hole. Upon entering, Leonard actually didn't find the place to be that bad. He glanced around and noticed patrons eating chicken tenders and burgers with fries.
"This place actually serves food," Leonard said. He took a seat at the bar.
"A poor selling-point at this juncture," Sheldon said.
"Sure, but you gotta admit it's better than the strip club."
"I wouldn't eat here," Sheldon replied, "if I were within five minutes of dying from a rare malady that could only be cured by ingesting fried, fatty food served in a dirty basket."
"Fine, at least get a drink."
The bartender walked over. "I'm Earl. What'll it be tonight, guys?"
"Um…" Sheldon searched his mind, finally taking a seat next to Leonard. "Ooh, I know: how about a virgin piña colada? Those are tasty."
Earl looked at him with supreme annoyance. "You want an umbrella with that, too, Nelly?"
"My name's Sheldon—Dr. Cooper to you—but if you have one, yes, thank you."
Leonard leaned over. "Sarcasm."
"Oh," Sheldon said, realization dawning on him.
"While your friend finds his balls, what do you want?" Earl asked Leonard.
"Are you wearing cologne?" Leonard asked.
Amazingly, with just a move of a single eyebrow, the bartender managed to somehow ask, What the fuck?
"I only ask," Leonard continued, "because I've been sneezing ever since I sat down, and I think your cologne may be the culprit behind my sudden sinus distress. Not that I have a problem with that, or anything, I'm just… curious." The sentence was punctuated with a loud sneeze.
The bartender just stared at Leonard a while without saying anything. He didn't look pleased.
"Drinks, right," Leonard said with a sniffle. "Just bring us both two tonic waters. We have work in the morning."
The bartender walked off and Leonard exhaled for the first time in minutes. "Are bartenders always that mean?"
"Based on my previous experiences with Penny, I would say yes," Sheldon answered. Suddenly, they heard the loud sound of someone screeching.
"Good Lord," Sheldon said, "what is that dreadful noise?"
It was coming from the back of the room. For the first time, Leonard noticed the huge banner against the wall. It read "Karaoke Night".
Sheldon stood. "We have to go."
"Why?" Leonard asked.
"Under no circumstances will I subject myself to such caterwauling."
"Aww, but—" Leonard's rebuttal was interrupted but a loud sneeze. Then another. Then another. Then another. After the sixth sneeze, he surrendered.
"Let's get out of here," he said.
Their next stop was a coffee shop.
They walked in to find it completely empty. Empty, except for a droopy-eyed, pimply-faced barista that didn't look a day over 16.
"Hello, my name is Clarence,"—loud sniffle—"How may I help you?" He sneezed loudly into both hands and then wiped the snot on his apron. Sheldon and Leonard didn't even look at each other, but just turned around and walked out.
Half an hour later they were back in the hotel room, in their pajamas, sitting on their respective beds, with computers on their laps.
Leonard brought his headphones to his ears and listened to the familiar Skype dial tone. Moments later, Penny appeared on the screen.
"Leonard," she said happily and her face appeared on the screen. "How are you, sexy?"
Leonard smiled. "I'm good, I'm good." Then, he had to say it because it was true. "I miss you."
She smiled. "I miss you, too. But, I thought you and Sheldon were gonna go out tonight and have a little bro time?"
"Yeah, turns out we're bigger losers on the East Coast than we are in the West Coast. We went to a coffee shop and… got bored."
"Coffee shop?" Penny said. "That's your idea of a Bro Night?"
"Well, we might have stopped in a bar, first" —and a strip club— "but we couldn't get in the swing of things. Turns out they didn't have any Red Dead Redemption soundtrack music on the karaoke list."
Penny shook her head smiling a little. "Where's Sheldon?"
"On the next bed over. He's talking to Amy."
Indeed he was.
"Amy, if there were any remaining doubt, let it be known that strip clubs are as seedy and repulsive as they are rumored to be. I seriously considered ending my life several times throughout the night."
"I'm certainly glad you thought better of it," Amy said.
"As am I." He paused. "But first, where are my manners? How was your day?"
"Exciting," Amy said, a little bashfully. "I spent much of it preparing for the interview. An assistant professorship position at Pasadena University."
"Hmm, I don't like that place," he said.
"And why not?"
"I have my reasons."
"The main one being that it's not CalTech?"
"No, there are others." Pause. "Although that may be a compelling reason as well."
"Well, regardless of your personal aversions to the place, I hope I can count on your full support in my interview tomorrow."
"I wouldn't think of doing anything less," he said.
"Good."
There was a lull in the conversation, but then Sheldon perked back up. "Is Aditi still up?" he asked.
"I'm afraid not," Amy said, glancing down at the clock on the screen. "It's close to midnight."
Sheldon confirmed the time again as well. "So it is," he said. "I only ask because, while in the University gift shop, I saw a magnificent beginner's science kit."
"Did you get one for Robert?" Amy asked, interrupting.
"Of course, I did. I'm appalled that you would ask," Sheldon said.
"My apologies," Amy said.
He pulled one out and began to rave on the wonders of the toy, showing her all the features and exciting uses. As Amy watched, contentment settled over her. She loved him like this, enthused, curious. This was the man she loved: smart, excited about life and amazing as a father. She could have stayed in that moment forever.
"Are you listening, Amy?" he asked.
"Yes," she said, clearing her throat and listening anew. "What were you saying about the gyroscope?"
The following morning was Amy's interview. She pretended to be perusing the Neuron magazine in her lap, but in reality was mentally running through the nucleotide and amino acid sequences of the neurotransmitter norepinephrine. It was the only thing that could calm her down in situations like this one; she hadn't needed to do it in a long time.
"Dr. Fowler?"
She turned to find the receptionist standing a few feet away. "Yes?"
"I'll take you back now."
Amy nodded, then rose, and followed the receptionist down a corridor and into an office. Once inside, the chairman of the Biology Department, Dr. Corbin, rose and shook her hand.
"Please, have a seat, Dr. Fowler," he said.
She had read somewhere that on job interviews you should wait until the interviewer sits before taking a seat of your own. But she'd also read that one should defer to the interviewer so as not to appear aggressive. She had read a lot of things. It was all very confusing. She felt faint.
"You can have a seat," Dr. Corbin repeated.
"Of course," Amy said and sat down.
This was starting off wrong.
"I trust the Assistant chair took you on a pleasing tour of the university."
"Indeed she did," Amy agreed. "Your grounds are beautiful and you seem to have a very capable department." Capable? Really, Amy? That's the best you can do?
"Thank you," the chair said. "This department is the pride and joy of the School of Science." He shuffled through some papers. "So I've looked over your CV and as you know we are very impressed with your history in the field. A large body of published works, including a cover article in Neuron. What was that on again?"
"Cooperative long term potentiation can map memory sequences on dendritic branches, just one part of our team's tireless efforts at understanding the key structural component of the neuron."
"Indeed, which included your participation in the renowned project on addiction in lower-functioning marine species. If I'm not mistaken, you received a Harvey B. Quinton Award for your work."
Amy cleared her throat. "Well my team did. I had… suspended my career by that time."
Dr. Corbin returned his glasses to his face. "Yes, I see that," he said, peering at her CV again. "And what, may I ask, accounts for your absence in the thick of such exciting research?"
"I took some time off to raise a family. Twins actually."
He nodded absently. "Admirable work," he muttered, as if he found it anything but.
"But I haven't left the field entirely. I have occasionally moonlighted as a science consultant, and I've also conducted advanced level math prep tutoring sessions for graduate students during the end of the school terms."
Of course, he fixated on the wrong end of that sentence. "In what capacity did you serve as a science consultant?" he asked.
Amy sighed. "On the program," she sighed. "On the program The Love of a Thousand Summer Nights."
He furrowed his brow, and took his glasses from his face. "I was under the impression that that was a soap opera."
"It… it is," she said. "But one of the characters was dating a biologist. They wanted me to clean up the dialog."
"Hmm," he said, returning his glasses to his face and perusing his paperwork. "I see."
Amy felt deflated. She tried to think of some way to do damage control. "I am eager to return to the research field and continue my work. My detour was by no means a resignation of my academic passions and ambitions."
"Very well then," he said rising, barely acknowledging her statement. He held out his hand, Amy rose and took it. "This interview has been a pleasure for me, Dr. Fowler. We will be completing our interview process and get back to you shortly."
"Thank you for your time," Amy said.
"Thank you," Dr. Corbin replied.
She left the office and walked down the hall, took the elevator down to the first floor and went out to her car. On the drive home, she could only think one thing.
My career is over.
Later that night, Sheldon had received a call from Dr. Gablehauser requesting that they meet in Conference Room B of the hotel. His request carried with it the bizarre instruction not to mention the meeting to anyone. Sheldon generally hated meetings of all kinds (since they largely amounted to vacuous political wrangling and the receipt of assignments he didn't want to do), but the secretiveness awoke his curiosity.
Rising early, he'd dressed in the best of what he'd brought along, and arrived promptly at 7:30 AM, apparently before the day's official proceedings were due to begin. Upon opening the door, he was surprised to find that there were only four people there: Dr. Gablehauser, two men he didn't recognize and Dr. Siebert, whose attendance he found particularly shocking since he was under the impression that the president was back in California. The older of the unknown men stood as Sheldon approached the table.
"Hello, Dr. Cooper," he said, and held out his hand, "I'm Dr. John Lively, a representative with the Department of Defense."
The other man stood in turn, and held out his hand as well. "And I'm Dr. Bill Anderson with the Department of Energy." He motioned towards a chair. "Please, take a seat."
Sheldon did so. "What is the nature of this meeting?" he asked.
Dr. Siebert answered first. "While we hope that you have been enjoying the conference—"
"I have not," Sheldon interrupted.
"Well, honestly it doesn't matter," Dr. Siebert continued, "as the real purpose of your trip here was to secure your participation in a project headed by the US government in collaboration with the Large Hadron Collider. This project could have implications ranging from military applications to more efficient ways to meet energy demands worldwide. The candidates for participation have not been chosen lightly."
Sheldon sat up his chair, shocked… and enticed. "You mean this entire trip was a ruse?"
"'Ruse' might be a strong word," Dr. Siebert said. "Mingling in the greater scientific community never killed anyone, Dr. Cooper."
"But I've never been one to tempt Fate," Sheldon said.
Dr. Anderson spoke up. "Dr. Cooper, our respective organizations are embarking on an endeavor that carries with it a degree of secrecy and, as a result, we have been clandestinely combing the nation looking for elite physicists that would be able to work on this project. During our survey of respected persons in the field, your name came up time after time."
"Well, I can't say that I'm surprised," he said.
The two agency reps looked at each other and then at Dr. Siebert.
"He has a rather… well, should I say, interesting personality. It's an acquired taste."
"Regardless," Dr. Anderson said, "we have made our selections, and have used this conference as a means of securing our final roster of participants. By and large, we have our list compiled, although during the course of this event, we've kept our eyes open to some last-minute additions."
Sheldon wiggled in his chair, positively giddy. "So what other physicists do you have in mind?" He began rattling off the names of some of his contemporaries in the field, people he'd run into at conferences and physics watering holes online. "Meg Clarkson, Alessandro Lionne, Edward Kath, Lauren Thibodeaux, Pomita Mandar, Rae Jones… oh there are too many to name. You know what? I'll make you a list." He grabbed a nearby pad and started scribbling away, then suddenly looked up with a face of deep reflection. "Are you familiar with the work of Ruby Aquino? She's a recent import from an overlooked physics research institute in the Philippines, but she's making amazing contributions in the world of higher-spin gravity." He shrugged. "I'll put her name down."
"I'm familiar with some of those scientists, Dr. Cooper, and they are all theorists," Dr. Lively said. "We plan on including experimentalists as well."
Sheldon recoiled in horror. "Why would you want to do that?"
"Because we've determined that we'll have more success in this endeavor if we use a… phenomenological approach to the project."
"Ew," Sheldon groaned, face askew. "I don't work with experimentalists."
"Why not?"
"Because experimental physics requires building, and teamwork, and, and…" —he recoiled— "undergraduates."
"Pardon my ignorance," Dr. Siebert interrupted, "but what do you mean by 'a phenomenological approach'?"
Sheldon sighed. "Phenomenology is the field of science, or methodology really, that blurs the line between the worker-bee data-collecting of experimental physics and the brilliant abstract mathematics and philosophical conjecture of theoretical physics."
The DoE representative spoke up. "If physics were a two-island nation," he explained, "Phenomenology would be the bridge that connects those two islands so its citizens could benefits from the resources of both islands."
Sheldon turned to the representative. "You explained that very quickly and simply."
"Thank you."
"I didn't mean that as a compliment."
Dr. Siebert interjected. "Dr. Cooper, do we have your commitment to the project?" he asked. Sheldon got the distinct feeling that it was more of a command than an inquiry and he hesitated a moment. Dr. Lively spoke up.
"Before you answer, you should know that we anticipate…" His voice dropped an octave and his face grew more serious than before. "Dr. Cooper, with the team we have assembled and the problem set before us, we have set our ambitions high." He slid a printed page across the table to Sheldon and the latter man reviewed it. "We anticipate making earth-shattering developments in theQuantum chaos and frankly… we will. I don't know why you got into Physics, Dr. Cooper, but if it had anything to do with changing the world… this is your chance."
Sheldon looked up, chastened. "I accept your invitation," he said, then paused for moment, and the gravity of the endeavor seemed to settle in on him. "In fact, it would be my honor."
All men nodded happily.
"In that case," Dr. Lively said, "there's something else you should know." He turned to Dr. Anderson, who continued to speak.
"We are offering you the position of head theoretical physicist on the project. We believe you have the respect in the field as well as the scientific aptitude to take on a leadership position."
Sheldon's mouth dropped.
"That is not an answer," Dr. Gablehauser remarked.
"I… I don't know what to say," he said finally.
"Say you will accept," Dr. Lively said.
"Absolutely. I accept."
"Excellent," Dr. Siebert said. "And again, you will not regret your decision. Any of you."
All the men rose and parted with cordial farewells. Sheldon left as well and walked down the hall in nothing short of a daze.
It was happening.
ENDNOTE: Thanks for sticking around for another chapter, and for your kind reviews. Thanks to the betas for the shiny coat of paint they put on this chapter. It's shiny!