A/N: Theodore Honey, played by James Stewart in the 1950 movie "No Highway in the Sky" continues on in his work after the events of the film.
Boffin
"I say Honey, are you there?" A hat appeared through the open doorway of the apartment with the head of Dennis Scott under it. "Hello?" He stepped over the threshold and into the modest row house number 110, Farnborough. It was the home of the eccentric American scientist Theodore Honey, Rhodes Scholar and former consultant for the Royal Aircraft Establishment. Scott had been here before, starting with his first day as head metallurgist at RAE when he had met Honey and given him a lift home. As he looked around he couldn't help but notice how tidy the place looked, a far cry from the disorder that had greeted him on his first visit and made him wonder just went a cyclone had passed through the area.
Honey walked into the room from the kitchen and continued on up the stairs while Scott waited to be seen. It didn't take long before Honey backed down the stairs slowly and looked in his direction. "Mr. Scott. You haven't been standing there long, have you?"
"No," Scott said chuckling a little. "I've only just arrived. Your front door was open - I hope you don't mind."
"Do I mind it being open?" Honey asked while scratching his head. "I must have forgotten to close it. Oh, wait...you probably mean coming in. No, I don't mind. I just hope I hadn't passed you by more than once. I'm looking for a paper with a table of figures I need, you see, and I haven't found it yet. Of course I suppose I wouldn't still be looking for it if I had already found it. I used to keep it right over there…" he said as his voice trailed off after looking in the direction of the biggest bookcase "...no, I think it was over here. Everything is in the wrong place now that Marjorie has organized things."
"I'm afraid that's the way it is when you get married - you have to adapt to a new system sometimes. I still don't know where Shirley put my original flight fitness certificate from when I first became a pilot."
"Oh, I'm not complaining - organization helps you be more efficient. I just...am having a bit of trouble getting used to it. She reorganized everything after we got married, and although I'm sure it's a marvelous system it just isn't mine."
"But that was five years ago." Marjorie Corder was a stewardess on a flight that Honey had been on while he was trying to prove that the recently introduced Rutland Reindeer passenger aircraft had a design flaw that would cause catastrophic failure after a certain number of hours of use. He intentionally collapsed the landing gear while the plane was on the ground to prevent it from flying further and endangering Marjorie and the other people on board. Socially awkward, he chose the rash action when others wouldn't listen to his warnings and would have been committed as insane afterward if his theory hadn't been proven out.
"Yes, but Elspeth and I lived here eleven years with my own system before that. Would you like some sherry?" Honey asked. The scientist had lost his first wife in a V2 attack during the war, leaving only his young daughter alive.
"Not this time, thank you very much. I just wanted to stop by and give you a bit of news. After all the press you received from preventing any more loss of life in the Reindeers, it turns out the de Havilland people thought it best to more thoroughly test their new Comet. They found some failure points that would have gone undetected if not for your diligent efforts at the RAE. You potentially saved many more people thanks to your work now that they're performing a redesign."
"That's nice. The press was very kind even though I think calling me 'Galahad of the Airway' was a bit much. That pilot in Labrador probably did all he could to try to save those passengers before the first Reindeer crashed. And the tail on our plane might have fallen off before we got to Gander if Captain Samuelson hadn't feathered the inboard engines to reduce the vibrations. But that flight...being on that airplane...made me realize that mathematics isn't just a pure science all by itself. It affects people, like the people that ride in airplanes. Real people. People that have families, and jobs, and friends. I did it for all of them, not just people like Monica Teasdale."
"Oh yes, we were quite surprised when the actress came to the office personally to vouch for you after the Gander incident. And people like me and Sir John appreciate it too."
"She was very nice, and you two were always kind to me as well. You told me the truth about what the Establishment would do and I appreciate that, and you supported me the most that you could until the tests bore me out. I realize that I'm...ah...a little different than most people, but it's good to hear that others take my work seriously too. And it's not just my work - like I told you before, Kursling and Shulgard were the ones that put out the original hypothesis."
"Mr. Honey, when you tried to explain that hypothesis to me it was just so much noise. But it was obvious that YOU believed it, and ultimately that's what won the day. I do sometimes wish you still worked for us, though. I can't say the same for payroll - when you deposited all seven month's worth of paychecks all at once that you'd been saving it caused quite the stir. Sir David wondered if there might not be some embezzling going on."
"That was Marjorie's doing. She felt...ah...that I should probably deposit them before they got lost. I had them all perfectly safe in a box over...no, it was over...they were in two boxes, come to think of it," Honey corrected himself. "Now, if there was some project that interested me I might come back for a short time if you really needed me."
"We can always use good men, Mr. Honey. But I understand when and why you left. At least we parted on good terms, and you'll be a valuable resource in the future if we should need your services again. Just what are you working on right now, if you don't mind saying?"
Honey's face brightened as he became more animated. "Oh, several projects. There are so many interesting things that could use more study that it's hard just to concentrate on one. Right now I'm working on astronomy. I guess all that time up in the sky - you know I'd never been in an airplane before - got me thinking about the sky, and then what's above it. After I left RAE, I was invited to work with the Royal Society...you know about them?"
"The Royal Society of London? Who doesn't? Quite the group of scientists and scholars, I believe."
"That's right, and they just up and invited me to work with them. I got to thinking about Stonehenge and then astronomy in general and you know, there's a lot of mathematics in astronomy!"
"I shouldn't wonder," Scott agreed.
"So they thought maybe I might like to join my efforts with theirs. You know, someday they are going to have machines that do all the math for us, but for now we have to do it all by hand and it's very time-consuming to check. Mary's good at that. Do you know Mary Cartwright?"
"I haven't had the pleasure."
"Brilliant mind. I think Elspeth and her have really hit it off. You know my daughter Elspeth, right?"
"Certainly. She and I met the same day I met you when I offered you a lift home from RAE."
"Oh yes, that's right. Well, I find the work fascinating and there's no worry about people dying in airplanes that are falling apart."
"Speaking of," Scott interrupted "Majorie didn't go back to being a stewardess, did she?"
"Oh no, she got a job in the office. She isn't afraid of flying, no; she just thinks that she shouldn't be away so long so she can take care of me. Says I forget things," Honey said while he looked around.
"Like the payslips."
"Exactly." He continued to look around. "You wouldn't by chance have any idea what I was looking for when you came in, would you Mr. Scott?"
"You said something about a table of numbers."
"Right! That's what it was." Honey turned and started to bound up the stairs before he returned. "Sorry. Was there anything else?"
"No Mr. Honey, that was all. I just wanted to share that with you. I'll let you go on with your work. Say hello to the family for me," Scott said but he was talking to air as Honey had already disappeared up the stairway. He let himself out, but closed the door behind him.
O-O-O-O-O
Sir John Atkins, director of the RAE, sat at his desk. He looked out the window at the clear day and his mind started to wander. Retirement was coming up in six months, and he still had sufficient health to enjoy his remaining years of leisure. He was shaken from his daydreaming by a knock on the door. "Come," he answered. He could always get back to thinking about retirement later.
His secretary came through the door. "You have a gentleman to see you, Sir John."
Atkins grunted. Lunchtime was coming up, and he was looking forward to a little repast and would rather it not be delayed. But at the same time, he really wouldn't be able to enjoy it if he knew somebody was cooling their heels waiting to speak to him the minute he got back. "Send him in, but he's the last one before lunch."
"Very good, sir." The secretary disappeared and Sir John was given a start when Theodore Honey burst into the room.
"Mr. Honey, how good of..."
"Sir John, you must listen to me," Honey interrupted. "They won't. Oh, they pretend to but no one believes me and I thought Who do I know that people will listen to? and then I thought of you and..."
Atkins held up his hands. "Mr. Honey, please slow down." Theodore stopped his run-on sentence and the director took the opportunity to continue. "I don't know what it is, but I will listen to you if you will just explain yourself - slowly. I know that you don't work for the RAE now but I respect your opinion on whatever it might be that has gotten you so agitated."
"I'm sorry, it's just that all the people that could die and...and...let me start over."
"Please do."
"I'm working with the Royal Society to identify objects in our solar system. I've taken some observational data from previous astronomers and added some additional data from observations I've requested. Now, using parallax and taking into account atmospheric distortion and..."
"Wait, Mr. Honey. I'm no astronomer."
"Well, neither am I. Not really. But the math, you see. I've worked it out through three different channels and the numbers don't lie - we're all in serious danger." Honey ran his hand through his hair. "We're talking millions - billions, even."
"Of pounds?"
"Of lives!"
"What?!" Sir John reacted, becoming quite agitated. "Are you sure?"
"Of course I'm sure! Mathematics is a precise science you see, you've got numbers and formulas and trajectories and mass and a whole bunch of other things that go into it. Let me show you," he said as he looked around the room. He grabbed a stapler from the desktop and then a wastebasket nearby. "You see, it's a little like dropping a bomb. The bomb weighs so much, the plane is going so fast and it's flying a certain distance above the ground. When you release the bomb, the math will tell you if it's going to hit your target or not." Honey 'flew' the stapler about even with his head and then released it. It fell into the wastebasket, making a loud clattering noise.
The door opened and the secretary rushed in. "Is everything okay, Sir John?"
"Of course - just a bombing run. Go back to your work," the director assured him. The secretary did a double take and went back through the door before closing it. "Mr. Honey, I'm not a mathematician or a bomber pilot, but I understand...somewhat...what you are saying," he said excitedly. "Math tells us if the bomb, as you say, is going to hit or not. So are you saying a big bomb is heading for us? For the Earth?"
"Practically. It's a big asteroid, actually. A big hunk of rock."
"Oh." Sir John relaxed noticeably. "Well, if it's a big rock we shouldn't be too bad off."
"But that's just it, Sir John. A rock this size will be like all the bombs in World War II going off - all at once."
The color drained from Sir John's face. He rushed over to his telephone and rang his secretary. "Get me Sir David at once," he demanded. While he waited for the call to go through, he asked Honey "Are you sure? Wait, of course you're sure or you wouldn't be here. How long have we got?"
"I've learned my lesson, so I can't be precise to the last minute. You understand."
"Of course. HOW LONG MAN?"
"Thirty thousand and sixty-seven years, give or take a year."
"Well then, we...years?...thirty thousand?" Sir John asked, his mental gears starting to strip at yet another swing in the conversation.
"Thirty thousand and sixty-seven years, yes. I can show you the numbers..." Honey offered.
"No, that's...Hello?...Sir David? Yes, I did call you...I just wanted to...ah...wish you a happy birthday. What, have I got the date wrong? Dear me, I must speak to my secretary about that. Sorry to have bothered you, heh heh. Good day!" he concluded as he hung up the phone quickly. He looked at Honey, who was still very much worked up. The man might be a mathematical genius, but he was certainly oblivious to how most of the world worked. He walked back to his visitor and clapped him on the shoulder. "That is very important news, Mr. Honey. I have complete confidence in your conviction on the matter, and I will give it serious consideration. No doubt I will need to take this up the chain of command and they'll no doubt get back to you when they've completely gone over the situation. You know how things don't get done until the right people in charge are sure of something."
"Boy, do I ever."
"Yes, of course you do. Tell you what - write up a report on the matter and submit it to me so that I can hand it over to the big shots. It won't matter if we delay action a few days, will it?"
"No. But a report could take weeks to summarize properly," Honey protested.
"Then let it take weeks, and do it exactly right." Let it take months, Sir John thought to himself, the closer to retirement for me the better. "In the spirit of completeness so that we can formulate just the right course of action. Why, there may even be some of our chaps in one of the hush-hush departments that might be working on something right now that could be used as part of a solution. Would that be satisfactory, Mr. Honey?"
"Well...I suppose...it took this long to solve the math, and I guess we've got time to figure out what to do."
"That's the spirit! Let's get all the facts right and solve this correctly the first time." He started ushering Honey to the door. "With great minds like yours working on the problem, I scarcely worry that we'll get it licked. Thank you Mr. Honey, and be sure to send that report the minute you have it completed."
"Thank you Sir John," Honey said as he was almost shoved out the door before it was closed behind him.
Two minutes later the secretary came in. "He's gone."
"Good. If you'll excuse me, I'll be going out the back way for lunch. Expect me back when you see me." Sir John grabbed his coat and hat before going out the side door. Boffins, he thought. Absolutely brilliant. Totally needed. Completely crackers.
The End
A/N: Boffin: term, somewhat derogatory, to describe an intelligent but somewhat eccentric scientist or specialist often found to be at odds with social norms.
The movie oddly predicted the failure of the real life de Havilland Comet, the first commercial jet airliner, a few years after the movie came out. The model work in the movie looks a bit dated now, but Stewart played his usual shy, somewhat socially backward archetype. Even though it was played for laughs, it did echo the facts that in older times the line between being eccentric and being insane was often dependent on who needed you and for what rather than your actual condition.
Stewart's character had never been in an airplane, but the actor was quite familiar with them having been a pilot in World War II.