Fate, Wants and Mistakes

Fate, Wants and Mistakes

  A short story from the series Journey From Within.

  by Oma Laralea

  Copyright 2012 Oma Laralea

  Fate, Wants and Mistakes

  Short story from a series called: Journey From Within

  His fingers confidently stroked the familiar keyboard and the large computer screen scrolled obscure symbols, names and formulas that triggered memories for Bernard Mayne. A lone floor lamp mutely lit the far side of the modest den. Behind him, against the oak paneled wall, the computer screen cast his distorted shadow - menacing one moment, cartoonish the next. He leaned back in his chair and sighed heavily. The scrolling symbols and words reminded him of the past - fate, wants and mistakes. Fate had brought him to this pivotal point in time, he thought; or, it was other people's wants; maybe, it was his own mistakes?

  Bernard Mayne had been and still was driven. He had studied twelve long years to graduate with two Ph.D.’s summa cum laude and establish himself as the eminent leader in his field. He had many and generous offers from large corporations and foundations to do his research work at their labs, but nearly all of that had been taken away from him.

  Thirteen years ago, he accepted the offer to research at the Crayston Foundation. They didn't have the most generous offer, but they would allow him the most freedom in his work and research. He worked assiduously and autonomously for four years and was close to proposing a working prototype when the foundation decided Mayne needed help. He didn't need any help, Mayne thought to himself, at least not from Gallenmeadow.

  Frederick Gallenmeadow was a prodigy. He had received his masters and Ph.D. summa cum laude, by the time he was nineteen and that same year, the foundation introduced him to Mayne. Gallenmeadow reminded Mayne of himself, intelligent, focused, driven, but still having a child-like enthusiasm. His dark eyes and pixie smile reminded Mayne of an elfish prankster. Gallenmeadow remarked that he had studied all of Mayne's papers. He had taken the Crayston Foundation offer, because he knew Mayne was researching there and would be honored to work with him. Mayne felt flattered at the moment, but wondered to himself about Gallenmeadow's intentions.

  Gallenmeadow did have a few new ideas and his enthusiasm more than made up for his lack of experience and coherency. The foundation showed great interest in his "new" ideas. It made Mayne jealous and a little nervous. Those "new" ideas were all based on my theories, Mayne thought; Gallenmeadow was just putting a new spin to my theories. He thought the foundation would lose interest once they saw the proposal for his prototype and Gallenmeadow's weaknesses. However, people have a way of changing a given situation. Wants.

  Gallenmeadow wanted and insisted on working with Mayne and his prototype; the foundation agreed. Mayne protested, maybe not enough, the situation he was being forced into and referred back to the original agreement for the conditions of his research. That agreement was made four years ago, the foundation said. The situation and conditions have changed. The foundation wanted Mayne's work and research to move along faster and Gallenmeadow would help speed the work along. Against Mayne's wishes, the foundation showed Gallenmeadow the plans for Mayne's prototype. And a few weeks later Gallenmeadow had designed a "new" prototype; a prototype the foundation determined was much more viable than Mayne's. The focus of research and funding shifted toward Gallenmeadow's "new" prototype.

  Although, Gallenmeadow wanted the foundation to believe his prototype was unique and it only appeared to be similar to Mayne's. Mayne didn’t want to embarrass Gallenmeadow. My first mistake, he thought. So Mayne tried to explain Gallenmeadow's "modifications" without discrediting him.

  Mayne was astonished. He couldn't believe the foundation actually thought Gallenmeadow's "new" prototype was "more viable" than his. He couldn't believe the foundation was pushing his research aside to work on Gallenmeadow's "new" prototype. He couldn't believe the foundation didn't see the obvious modifications to his prototype that Gallenmeadow was now claiming as his own.

  Mayne made an appeal to the governing board at the Crayston Foundation. He told them that Gallenmeadow had stolen his work and he wanted the research and funding to be refocused to his project. The governing board was indifferent. They said both projects seemed similar, and Mayne should easily be able to work with Gallenmeadow and the new prototype. But that's not what I wanted to do, Mayne thought. Gallenmeadow stole my work and my research. I want my work and my research back. The governing board dismissed Mayne's charges of plagiarism and relegated him to decide whether or not he want to work with Gallenmeadow.

  Mayne was despondent and frustrated by his own inability to get the foundation to refocus their attention on his research. He worked with Gallenmeadow for about month, then began to withdraw to his own lab. If they won't work on my research, I'll continue my work myself. As it was in the beginning, most of Mayne's time was spent alone in his lab, but with limited access to research assistants and technicians, his research barely progressed.

  Less than a year later, Gallenmeadow had begun computer tests on a small scale, working model. As a possible full-power test date approached, Mayne was able to examine and analyze Gallenmeadow's papers and plans. Could it be possible that Gallenmeadow might succeed, Mayne wondered as he scrutinized the final plans for the model. Was it Gallenmeadow's fate that he would succeed where Mayne had been unable to?

  No, no...it's not possible, Mayne thought, when he received the memo, three months later, inviting him the demonstration. The Crayston Foundation set had a date for the full-power test. They invited scientific peers from other fields and several dignitaries to watch the proceedings. This should be my test model, my demonstration, my moment of glory, Mayne thought. He formulated a plan to discredit Gallenmeadow once and for all.

  It was a simple plan. Mayne assisted Gallenmeadow with preparations for the full power test. Gallenmeadow seemed a little suspicious, but was glad that Mayne decided to work with him again. Mayne smiled. Just a small discredit, Mayne thought, more embarrassing than anything else. I'll give a few people some warning. Mayne dropped subtle hints of possible problems with the test model. He smiled to himself. Such a simple plan, change one or two formula calculations, nothing drastic, nothing dangerous. At least Mayne thought it was nothing dangerous. Fate had chosen the formulas.

  The previous partial power tests indicated no problems and the day for the full-power test came. Mayne had a twinge of anxiety and doubt, but they were overshadowed by the hope of getting his work and his research back. Maybe with the exception of one person, no one suspected anything would go wrong. Mayne smiled to himself again. He would be there for Gallenmeadow's disgrace, failure, discredit. Mayne would get his project back.

  The modest, semi-circular observation deck was crowded with a variety of spectators. Mayne stood to one side of the deck so he could see everyone, especially Gallenmeadow's reactions to the system failure - just a power failure. The system would come up to full-power then shutdown. Simple.

  As Gallenmeadow finished his short and enthusiastic speech, Mayne smiled and nodded to him. The lights dimmed dramatically. Two lab assistants removed the models protective cover and connected the last few control and power cables.

  Gallenmeadow's distorted shadow was cast on some of the spectators by the large computer screen; a slow, shifting, shadow dance as the spectators moved back and forth for a better view. Anticipation hung in the air like a sweet perfume. The light tapping of a keyboard drifted over the quiet murmuring. After moment, Mayne could hear the low, rumbling hum of power beginning to build. The murmuring stopped as a faint aura appeared around the model's framework. The lab assistants took a few careful steps away.

  �
��This is normal”, Gallenmeadow had said calmly, as he looked down at the computer screen. He glanced up from the screen between reading each power percentage increase. The aura grew a brighter and richer shade of indigo with each count. Mayne's heart began pounding a knot in his chest as the percentage neared full-power and the low hum began to reach a dull roar. Gallenmeadow spoke louder over the dull roar, but stopped as the model was no longer visible though the brilliant, indigo aura.

  Mayne couldn't believe the aura would get any brighter nor the roar any louder, but they did. The image of the observation deck was scorched into Mayne's memory: the expressions of surprise, delight, amazement and Gallenmeadow's realization and panic. In a bright, searing indigo flash, the aura consumed the two lab assistants and the level below the observation deck. Mayne barely got his arm up to protect his face when the model flew apart.