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Chapter 6

Sir George greeted me when we arrived at the residence. It was really strange... even though this was the first time we had met in person, I felt that I had known him for years, I felt so comfortable with him. He felt to me... kind of... well, like a male version of my grandma, actually. So I mentioned that to him and he laughed.

“Amazing, Emma. Your granddad told me something like that too. It’s one of the reasons we got on so famously when we first met. I had hoped that you would get to meet my wife Isabella, but she’s back in London with our daughter. It’ll be her second baby.”

“Ooh. You’ll be a grandfather again. Exciting. You’re not there too?”

“Before the baby comes I’d be useless, Isabella says. I’ll go after the baby is born. Emma, are you tired now or do you have time to talk about a little business?”

“Actually I kipped out a bit on the flight so I’m okay,” I said, “but what kind of business do you mean?”

“All of yours. My contacts tell me that there’s a bidding war developing for the licensing rights to your inventions and I want to be sure that you’re protected and that there’ll be some protection for the Crown as well. I don’t think that, in your academic mind, you can conceive of the money and influence your inventions can bring.”

I blushed. “Really? My god, is there something that I need to do?”

“I’ve taken the liberty of contacting your solicitor—the trust’s executor. You do trust him?”

“Completely.”

“Yes, he has a fine reputation. He’ll be in touch with you soon and will want to create a group of investment experts and economists, plus a few experts in international law, to advise you. But there’s another step I’m going to advise that you take.”

“Oooo...kay? This is gettin’ pretty gnarly now.”

“Hold your breath for this, then. One big problem is that legally, you can’t make decisions on your own. At 14 years old...”

“I’m still 13. My birthday’s in August.”

“All right. You’re a minor and will be for four more years and those four years are critical for your scientific work, especially now that your uncle has been missing for about nine months. After a year he will probably be declared deceased and then, if you stay in the U.S., you’ll be put under the control of some state child protection agency and your guardianship could even be up for grabs, given how wealthy you are and how important your work is. In the U.K., much the same things would happen, I’m afraid. What we really need to do is get you emancipated.”

“I’ve heard about that. Someone in my high school. They become a legal adult.”

“Precisely. Usually it isn’t done for children who are under 16, but I think with your situation, a doctoral candidate...”

“Erm. Doctor now. Dissertation accepted and defense passed. Just need the ceremony and sheepskin. Having those just formalizes the fact.”

“Oh my, Emma! Congratulations! Okay. A PhD in physics, and an international reputation, a clearly stable housing situation, a source of independent support, and strong social ties. Everything a family court judge looks for. And no one to challenge the petition. You’ll be a legal adult—a small one, but legal still. Do you want to go ahead?”

“Absolutely. And don’t take jabs at my being vertically challenged.”

“Couldn’t resist it. Will you be up for a family visit tomorrow? I’d like you to meet my son and his family. They can come for lunch. The press conference will be later. The girls are just gagging to meet you.”

“Sure. Do I need to do anything on the emancipation?”

“I’ll have something prepared by tomorrow. I’m thinking we can have it done by video, using a London judge I know, with local barrister services from your trust executor. He and I could be your sponsors.”

“Thank you so much!” I pulled him up and hugged him. “I feel like you’re family, sir. I miss that very much.”

“I’m honored, dear. I’ve gotten to feel the same about you.”

“Well, if this isn’t being too forward, since you were a good friend of Grampa’s, that almost makes you a great uncle. Can I call you ‘Uncle George’?”

He got tears in his eyes, reached out, and pulled me into another hug.

“I couldn’t deny you that, my dear, and it would give me great pleasure if you called me your uncle.”

~~~~

Crikey, they really go all out for the meals here. I had arrived at the residence about 5:30 p.m. and my meeting with Uncle George (calling him that sounds so right to me) lasted about a half hour. He had some official business to do back at his embassy office so I was on my own for dinner. One person. They served a six-course meal. I was quite hungry, so I really tucked in. Hey, if I stay, maybe eating like that’ll help me grow. Nope, won’t make me tall, it’ll make me fat. I need to make sure that I organize some exercise now that I’m out of high school. Even when the gym was freezing cold, I could use the indoor track and do a 5000 to 6500 meter run at least three times a week, trying to get my 1600 meter time consistently under six minutes for the longer runs. The teachers tried to get me to run for the track team but I absolutely refused because of the time commitment. I frequently used the uni pool for workouts too.

Breakfast Tuesday morning was a buffet and I got to meet a whole bunch of people who were on the residence staff. This is such a beautiful building on wonderful grounds. As well, it’s very close to the U.S. vice president’s residence. I can see the embassy itself across a small parking lot; it looks like a plain office building. But the residence—blimey, just like an English manor house. I remember seeing the British PM’s house at 10 Downing Street when I was little (ugh, still am little) and it looked like just a common row house. What a difference.

Uncle George’s son and family arrived at about 11 a.m. He’s a good-looking, solid sort of bloke who was wearing a uniform with a crown, a diamond thingie, and the letters “RM” on the shoulders. Whilst he was greeting his dad, I whispered to a... butler, I guess, “What’s his rank?”

“Lieutenant colonel, Royal Marines, miss,” was the response.

Two girls ran in and hugged Uncle George, glancing shyly at me. Then Uncle George brought the three of them over to me.

“Dr Emma Clarke, let me introduce you to my son, Lt. Col. Stuart Marshall; his senior daughter,” winking at her, “Miss Samantha Marshall, and last but never, never least, her sister Miss Abigail Marshall.”

Abigail stuck her tongue out at her granddad, then the two girls nodded shyly at me but turned to Uncle George when he told them to wait to talk to me till after their dad had spoken to me and he began asking them about their day, grinning at their enthusiastic responses.

Whilst I was shaking the colonel’s hand, he spoke quietly to me.

“I heard I got an instant cousin I hadn’t heard of before,” he remarked as he chuckled, giving me a light hug. “Dad says that he’s your uncle now.”

I blushed. “Erm... yeah... I kind of adopted him, I guess.”

“Well, welcome to our family. The rest should be here in a few minutes.”

Then I turned to where the girls were talking with Uncle George and greeted Samantha (“Call me ‘Sam’!” she insisted) and Abigail (“I’m Abi! That’s A-B-I!”); they both looked into my eyes uncertainly so I winked at them and they both threw themselves into my arms and began jabbering rapidly.

“Gramps told us all about you!” one squealed.

“Yeah, you were a hero!” from the other.

“He said you stopped that blighted naked Program in its tracks!” This one was almost a duet.

“And you graduated college already!” Abi now.

“And you’re our age. How did you do that?” Sam.

“What’s Alaska like? Do you see polar bears?” Abi.

Col Marshall walked back over to us, laughing. “Girls, girls—give Emma a chance to answer! Let’s go to the sitting room and you can ask her, but one at a time and give her a chance.”

“They’re fine, Colonel,” I answered, putting my arms around their shoulders. “Just excited about meeting someone they had only heard about.”

“Emma, please call me Stuart. After all, we’re cousins,” he said, winking theatrically at the girls.

That set them off again, wanting to know how I could be their cousin. I explained, laughing, as I followed Stuart to the room. We sat, easily chatting, for about ten minutes. The girls were utterly charming. They clearly loved each other and I felt a pang about not having that kind of companionship as I was growing up. I explained about my academic background, how I had skipped several grades, and what “getting a PhD” was all about. They hung on my words. So did Uncle George and Stuart, interjecting a question now and then.

Then we heard noises coming from the foyer. The rest of the family had arrived, and Uncle George and Stuart rose to meet them. Uncle George motioned us to stay.

“It’s Mum and Andrew,” Abi said. “You’ll like our brother. He’s ace and he’s hunky too!”

Brother? Uncle George was holding out on me? Must be a little guy—younger brother.

They both giggled, embraced, and began sort of bouncing on the couch together as they held each other. They had each other to love. I was so envious . The voices in the hall grew nearer and I looked up. And my heart stopped. Seriously. I couldn’t breathe. The boy must be Andrew. He looked to be just about 170 centimeters... okay, okay, for the metrically challenged, that’s about 5 feet, 6 or 7 inches. Maybe 15 or 16 years old. He had wavy blonde hair over his ears, broad shoulders, and a trim waist. He wore a wide smile as he was speaking to Uncle George. His dad walked next to him, an arm resting lightly on his shoulder. Clearly this was a very affectionate family. Then Andrew glanced into the room and noticed me; our eyes locked. Something clicked inside me and I suddenly felt an unfamiliar wash of emotion; the feeling flooding through me was overwhelming, almost choking me. I quickly steeled myself and tamped those errant feelings down... mostly.

That’s when I first noticed the woman who had come into the room with the others. She immediately came over to me as I was standing up.

“You must be Emma,” she gushed, radiating excitement. Now I know where her daughters get it from. “I’m Gerry. Stuart’s partner. We have to talk so that we get to know you, dear!”

She said “partner.” As in taking an equal share in the family. I loved that.

Uncle George drew Andrew to him and when he came over to Gerry and me, took her hand.

“She’s beaten me to it, but let me do the official honors, Emma. Dr Emma Clarke, it’s my pleasure to introduce you to one of the dynamos of the fair sex, my daughter-in-law, Mrs Geraldine Marshall, but she’ll insist on being called Gerry.”

I took her offered hand, but something moved me and I leaned close and gave her a continental kiss, both cheeks. She blushed and then embraced me. Uncle George was grinning broadly. Then he drew Andrew closer to me.

“And this stalwart young man is my grandson. Dr Emma Clarke, I’m delighted to present Mr Andrew Marshall to you. But never call him ‘Andy,’ remember that,” he chuckled.

Andrew took my hand in his—I swear a spark flew—lifted it to his lips and kissed it.

He murmured as he did, “You can call me ‘Andy’ anytime, Emma.”

“That’s okay,” I managed to choke out, “I love the sound of ‘Andrew.’ It’s so masculine.”

Blimey! Where’s this coming from? I’m not like that! I don’t swoon over boys! Emma, get a grip!

He was still holding my hand and looking at me. I drew a breath and tamped down the fluttering inside me.

“I didn’t know Uncle George had a grandson,” I said accusingly to said uncle.

He chuckled. “Keeping the surprise part of my family for last, dear.”

Meanwhile both Andrew and Gerry were looking back and forth at us with open mouths.

Gerry was first. “Uncle...?”

So we had to explain, but this time the girls got involved too, so the explanation came out just a bit garbled. Eventually we got things unsnarled.

Over lunch, which was like a small banquet, we got acquainted. I sat next to Andrew and we shared some facts about each other. Andrew hadn’t been able to figure out anything about me from what Uncle George had told him and his sisters. I was around their age, but had graduated college, or maybe not, but yet I was in a graduate program. Or something. But I was also in high school. He figured that his granddad was either leaving something out or had gotten confused himself, you know, being old and all that. After all, Uncle George and I had never met in person.

Andrew was incredibly charming and gallant and clearly his sisters worshiped him. They were all very close in age, so perhaps that would explain why. Andrew had just turned 16, Sam would be 14 soon, and Abi was 11 (“almost 12!”). But I had seen many sets of siblings in my schools and none were this close. Must be the diplomatic—or perhaps the military—family life?

I would love to spend some more time with this family. Gotta see how to make that happen. And then there’s that attraction to Andrew. It seems it’s mutual too. Jeez.

The press conference was to be at the embassy so I had to reluctantly excuse myself from Stuart’s family to ride the short distance over to the building. Uncle George and I went in through a private entrance and he took me to a briefing room. It was basically a small auditorium. Anston was there, fixing mikes on a table at the front.

“Sir George,” he said as we entered, “is starting now satisfactory?”

“Yes. Let them in.” He spoke to me. “We’ll wait in the wing area over there and come in when Anston introduces us.”

About twelve men and women filed in, followed by some still photographers and two videographers. I could make out the station call letters on the cameras. It took several minutes before everyone was settled down and then Anston closed the door and went to a podium stand at the table’s side.

“I needn't inform you that this is a special occasion. The United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland is delighted to present to the world, one of our compatriots who has unearthed a greatly significant discovery that will impact all of our lives in the near future. Dr Emma Clarke has graciously agreed to allocate us some time from her hectic schedule for this conference, so I kindly request that you articulate your queries clearly, maintain politeness and focus on the topic at hand, and utilize the microphones we have supplied to ensure everyone can hear. Are your cameras prepared? Do you require any additional time? No? Then allow me to introduce Her Majesty’s ambassador to the United States of America, Sir George Marshall, and our esteemed guest, Dr Emma E. Clarke from the University of Alaska Fairbanks.”

There was a polite smattering of applause as we walked in, followed by some gasps of shock plus not a few double-takes as we nodded to the group and sat. Anston remained at the stand at the side; evidently he was going to act as emcee.

“Mr Ambassador,” he began, “do you want to say a few words?”

“Thank you, sir,” he answered. “Mr Tieders has done an excellent job in introducing Dr Clarke, but I’d like to add somewhat more to that. I noticed that many of you were surprised at Dr Clarke’s young appearance. Yes, she is young, not quite 14 years of age. She holds a PhD in physics, and is about to receive bachelor’s degrees in physics and mathematics. She has invented a material which, when further developed, promises to revolutionize electronics, computer science, power transmission, transportation, and who knows what else.

“She did the initial work while she was still in high school and refined it at the university where she led, and I say again, led the team which demonstrated that her theoretical calculations could be developed into a practical device. Dozens of universities from around the world have been in contact with her to come to their facility to share her knowledge. Ladies and gentlemen, Dr Clarke is not an immature teenager, however young she may appear. Treat her with the courtesy and respect you would show a senior scientist. We can take some questions now, Anston.”

“Thank you, sir. Show of hands, please. First row.” he pointed.

“Dr Clarke, this is an impressive achievement. I’m Gordon Jones, science correspondent for the AP. This is two questions, actually. One is about how you have your doctorate before a bachelor’s degree. Second, how did you get into superconductivity research? What gave you that idea?”

“Okay, sir. On the degrees, I assure you neither my university nor I got the order mixed up.” Laughter. “It was simply a result of the order in which I completed the degree requirements, but yes, the uni administration needed some persuasion when it came to how fast I was completing them. They weren’t used to someone going so quickly.”

More laughter.

“Yes. And my research? The short answer is that it just occurred to me. I live in Alaska with my guardian. It’s kinda cold there, usually.” Laughter. “I was idly thinking about keeping warm whilst I was walking to school and thinking about how to power personal heaters. Heaters take lots of power. Much of the energy in power transmission is lost to resistance in the conductor. Superconductivity could eliminate some of the resistance so batteries could last much longer. So I visualized different atomic structural configurations which could allow the persistence of the... erm... particular kinds of electrons needed for superconductivity to occur. From there, it simply involved some calculations.”

Laughter again, and Jones followed up, “Miss, I tried to read your papers but I couldn’t make heads or tails of those calculations. Where did you study that kind of math? I’m sure that they don’t teach that kind of math in British elementary schools, where I assume, from your accent, that you grew up.”

More laughter.

“No sir. It’s... erm... self-taught? No, that’s not right. How to describe it. Okay. You look at a face. Someone’s face. It’s your mum. How do you know that? You always knew that. She was your mum since forever. My maths are like that. It just is. It’s in me; when I need to mathematically describe something, the maths are there for me to use. Does that answer you?”

There were gasps from around the room at that, and people began looking at me strangely, so I needed to stop that right away. I thought of another analogous example to try.

“Okay, you still don’t really get it. I’m not an android like Data or a Vulcan like Spock.” Laughter again. “Take a musical prodigy like, erm... Mozart. How did he learn his perfect pitch? Take Beethoven. How could he compose symphonies or concerti or the other works he did when he was deaf? Take Michelangelo. How could he visualize the perspective needed for a person on the floor to view his Sistine Chapel ceiling paintings when he was lying on his back on a scaffold, four stories high, an arm’s length from the artwork? I could go on. Think of Leonardo daVinci and his engineering marvels. And in more modern times, Max Planck, who had the amazing insight that energy radiating from atoms is composed of discrete packages called quanta, and this insight led to the development of quantum mechanics. They each had their own special gift which allowed them to be unique. It’s like that with me; I simply have a mathematical gift; otherwise I’m not really different to anyone else, am I.”

A woman shouted, “How can you compare yourself with those geniuses? Are you that vain?”

“Ma’am, please. I didn’t say that I was comparing myself to anyone. Can you compare the wine taster who can differentiate between the wines from the same vineyard in two different years to the perfumer who can identify all of the components of the scents in a perfume bottle? Each has a skill. We all have special skills. Mine happens to be in maths.”

Wow. They applauded me. I looked at Anston and nodded; he pointed to another person.

“I believe you were next, sir. Yes, second row.”

“I’m Morgan Steward from Science. I’m trying to wrap my head around how you could um, deduce, I guess might be the term, which elements would have the appropriate properties which might allow superconductivity to occur. After all, most if not all physicists need decades of experience to learn how to manipulate their experimental materials to get a sense of their physical properties and learn how they interact. Can you speak to that question?”

I had been expecting a question like that and wasn’t looking forward to it, actually. I gathered my thoughts.

“This is an insightful question but not an easy one to answer. Early on, I read the bios of many famous physicists and mathematicians to learn about what inspired them, but mostly to learn about how to control my mind’s excursions into turning everything I see or experience into something I try to describe mathematically. It’s quite distracting, to tell the truth. To others, it looks like I’ve zoned out.”

There were chuckles from the group.

“Einstein did the same thing—using his imagination to consider physical problems; he called these mental exercises his Gedankenexperiment, that’s ‘thinking experiments,’ and there were other scientists that also used that technique, so I guess that my doing that isn’t so unusual. I suppose that this method of thinking is simply using one’s intuition in a kind of formal way to examine a problem. I recall Einstein saying something about this too—it goes something like, erm, I need to paraphrase, basic laws can’t be discovered through the use of logic. Only intuition works because it’s helped by one’s sense of the underlying physical order. Erm, that’s close to his words. I’m blessed with a highly retentive memory and it works that way because I make connections between everything I learn. So the trivial answer to your question is that I had this feeling for how certain elemental properties would fit my problem, and then made a few very lucky guesses—which I now realize must have been driven by intuition. Yeah, Einstein again: he said, and this is a quote, ‘A new idea comes suddenly and in a rather intuitive way.’ Does that answer your question, Mr Steward?”

He looked at me with surprise. “Yes... and you recalled my name too. I’m impressed.”

I laughed. “Names are important, sir. I try to remember them. My first question came from Mr Gordon Jones of the AP. I’m not showing off. I love teaching and quickly learning your students’ names shows that you think that they’re important.”

There was a fair amount of applause at that, followed by a few heartbeats of a pause.

Then Anston pointed again. “Your hand was next. Third row on this side.”

“Thanks. Gary Wilbur, NPR science correspondent. You’re giving seminars at Johns Hopkins and University of Maryland tomorrow and Thursday. The seating is reserved for faculty and students only and the hall is full. I couldn’t get a seat. Could you tell us what you’ll be talking about? Is it secret?”

I chuckled. “Pardon; I’m not laughing at you blokes. I had no idea that they were doing that and was amused to hear about it. No, it isn’t secret. I suppose that they need the seats for people who’ll be able to follow the maths. There just aren’t words in English that can explain what I’ll be covering. Mathematics is a language too and that’s the language I’ll be using. Okay, the title of the first talk is ‘Rapid Fourier Transforms in the Calculation of Electron Distribution.’ In that session I’ll be explaining how to survey atomic structures—that is, their electron orbitals—for information about how they would perform in semiconductor substrates like silicon or germanium with the recipe of components I found which acted like a metallic hydride. This is how I got my initial idea and it’s a new application of maths that I came up with to make the calculations manageable. Before this you needed a supercomputer to handle all the variables. I found a way around that.

“My other talk is ‘Cooper Pair Propagation in High Temperature Substrates’ and it’s about the behavior of electrons in a superconducting material. I hope that’s enough of a description for you for now. For the layperson, knowing what my calculations show will give them no usable information. What is important is what the effects of superconductivity are and how that physical phenomenon can aid in the development of new technology. My work is in the theories. I don’t know enough to make practical uses of what I imagine. I need engineers for that.”

More applause, and people were typing frantically on their laptops whilst shaking their heads.

Anston: “Okay, ma’am. Second row opposite. Yes.”

“Dr Clarke. I’m Janice Gordon, Baltimore Sun. I understand that in your high school in Fairbanks that you were supposed to have the Naked in School Program and that you...”

Anston interrupted. “I’m afraid that will do, Miss Gordon. I must apologize, but the direction in which your question was heading is quite offensive and uncalled for. The next hand I observed was... indeed, over there. On the right.”

“Mike Klune from Popular Science, Dr Clarke. You mentioned creating a new application of mathematics?”

“Not totally new, just a different approach to a certain kind of problem involving calculations needed in using the Schrödinger equation. It should work in similar cases where Fourier transforms are needed. My approach seems to make those equations simpler to calculate, is all.”

He answered, “Now I know exactly nothing more than before your answer, Doctor,” and laughed.

Others in the room laughed too.

Anston looked around. “I notice you all attempting to generate inquiries. Dr Clarke is endeavoring to provide responses to questions that typically require a deep understanding of advanced mathematics. Ah, you have a query? Very well, this shall be the final one, as Dr Clarke must begin preparations for tomorrow.”

“Yes. Nancy James, Washington Star. This isn’t scientific and I hope it isn’t too personal, but I think my readers would want to know how, as a young teen, you became so incredibly self-possessed and secure in your knowledge. You handled us old reprobates here like a seasoned pro, like you’ve been doing it for decades—and this is apparently your first news conference. You explained highly technical things with great patience and tried to make sure we understood what you were saying. You weren’t flustered when challenged. I can’t imagine how a fourteen-year-old could face us professional vultures with your degree of aplomb, and that’s not even considering your technical achievements. So my question is, ‘How did you get to be the way you are?’ I hope that’s not overstepping the rules for this conference.”

Anston shot a look at me and I gave him a private thumb’s up.

“I’ll try to answer, Mrs James, but you do realize that you’ve asked me to psychologically analyze myself, don’t you.”

There was laughter from the group again and I saw a lot of relaxed expressions out there. I guess they’re really on my side now.

“I think I got to be this way—socially that is—‘cause when I was little... erm, littler than now, anyway...” gesturing at my body. There was lots of laughter now. “...I didn’t fit in. I thought everyone could do what I did and see what I saw. Kids react to those who are different, so I soon learnt that I needed to rely on myself. I became very, very observant, always looking for clues about the people around me and how they interacted. When I saw a behavior which got a good response, then I modeled it. If I saw something that turned out not so nice, I avoided doing that. So I suppose I was building a framework in my personality that I could always use for my own mental support system the way lots of people form interpersonal social support systems. But those external social systems can be weak in certain ways because different personalities are involved and they tend to compete with each other. My own personality grew to be strong because I kept building it up. But still, I greatly miss the social support system that does involve other personalities, because the multiple minds involved provide a different kind of strength—and flexibility too, that I can feel missing in me.

“I’ve been rambling... I hope I didn’t bore you all.”

“Dr Clarke! Dr Clarke!” rang out. Anston pointed to the loudest caller.

“Ma’am, I’m flabbergasted and amazed, miss. I’ve never heard a more outstanding self-analysis, and you did it cold. Oh, I’m Dr Mark Southerland and editor of Psychology Today. I came, not for the physics, which is so far beyond me that I might be in a different galaxy, but for my research on how scientists interact with the lay media. I wanted to see how a young scientist would do in her first press conference but I never expected to see someone so young. And the answer you gave? Impressive. Have you ever taken psych classes? No? Well, you appear to have an innate understanding of the mind that matches your innate knowledge of math. That’s all I can say. Thank you.”

Not much more happened. Anston closed the meeting as the group applauded again and then he ushered them out of the room, making sure no one stayed behind. Uncle George took my hand.

“That was masterful, my dear,” he said. “They were prepared to be skeptical, even hostile, but you disarmed them from the beginning. I don’t think that they expected your form of dry humor, either.”

“Yeah, I hope the group tomorrow will be easier to talk to. At least they’ll understand the maths I’ll be using.”

~~~~

I left for Johns Hopkins early on Wednesday morning; I had been invited to meet with several faculty in my field before having lunch with the seminar sponsors. The seminar would follow. Uncle George hadn’t been kidding with me about the transportation. I traveled to Baltimore in style—in an embassy stretch limo accompanied by a sergeant from the Royal Marines led by a state trooper cruiser. As Uncle George had told me, “They will be escorting a precious resource of the British Crown. Of course we need to protect you.”

The morning’s meetings and the luncheon went well; I shared stories of my many missteps with these people—fellow physicists—who were at stages, amused at my stories of some dumb errors I had made (my lack of learning some basic principles showed here), and sympathetic about my problems with my uni’s administration (their resistance over my skipping so many steps on my way to the degree).

The seminar was held in a large classroom capable of holding about 120 people. It had a video projection system and a brill display panel which allowed me to write on it and have my scratchings appear on the projection screen, just as if I had been writing on a blackboard. We entered the room early so I could get familiar with the screen controls, pair up my laptop with the projector, and organize my notes (for the hundredth time, at least). I was sat in the front row reviewing my notes when the room began to fill. My host motioned for me to stay seated there.

“Come up when I introduce you,” he told me.

I nodded. Then the session began and my host gave me a very gracious introduction. Then he called me up. I stood and walked to the lectern.

All movement in the room stopped. You know, the shuffling, jiggling, whispering, and fussing that’s common in a room of over a hundred people. It all stopped. Dead silence. Every eye was on me as I put my notes on the tray in front of me. I looked out over the group and smiled.

Suddenly someone spoke loudly, “What is this, a joke?”

Another. “Who’s the middle schooler? Dr Clarke’s daughter?”

Another. “We don’t have time for practical jokes, Dr Wilson!” This was directed to my host.

I put up my hand. “Okay. I know my appearance is a surprise to some of you. I assure you that I am indeed Dr Emma Clarke, I have an earned doctorate in physics, and I’m the sole author of the articles on superconductivity which have recently appeared in Nature Materials and Physical Review Letters. The title of my talk this afternoon is ‘Rapid Fourier Transforms in the Calculation of Electron Distribution.’ Please, stay for my presentation and then you can judge if this talk is an elaborate hoax.”

A few people got up anyway and stormed out of the room but their seats were rapidly filled by standees. Standees? Jeez.

“All right? May I begin?” I asked. “Good. So the mathematical topic we’ll be discussing now arose when I...”

I finished about 45 minutes later, summarized the points I had made, and asked for questions or comments and then the whole room rose in an ovation. My host came up and shook my hand.

“Dr Clarke, that was extraordinary,” he said to me and the group, speaking into the mike. “Your development in math gives us an amazing tool in working with electron cloud interactions in normal and condensed matter. Now we have time for several questions of general interest. If you have specialized questions, please save them for Dr Clarke to ask during the reception which will immediately follow this session. Ok, over there. Carl?”

Carl asked his question. About a dozen more followed, after which we relocated to a large conference room (which barely accommodated everyone) where some finger snacks and drinks had been organized. I wandered around the room, fielding some questions but mostly accepting accolades. If my face got any redder, I think it would burst into flame.

---

Next: Emma gives a second seminar and then gets to know the Marshall family. That’s when she learns about the Program—again? Coming here? This is when she gets some very strange news and some welcome news too.

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