Induced Charge

Finally, after my fifth or sixth game of cell phone Tetris, I heard the ding of an elevator arriving at the lobby, a harried "Pardon me, sorry," and--wonder of wonders--"Of course, Dr. Starkwether." I looked up to see him hurrying out of the fray to look for me. I stood up abruptly to run to him and just as abruptly collapsed on the ground, completely unsteady on my shoes. Naturally, he heard the clatter and crossed the room to help me pick myself up.



"Ah. Chrissy Bailey, right?" He had a lovely, deep voice that took me completely by surprise. Impress him. Impress him! I could still hear my mother\'s voice in the back of my head.



Instead of the smooth voice I imagined, I stuttered: "Uh, yeah, how--how\'d you know?"



He grinned. "Of course your father told me what to look for--green eyes, and matching hair. You\'re hard to miss."



"Heh, I guess so." Suddenly self-conscious of my cultivated pale skin, the layers of eyeliner, and especially the green hair, I fidgeted with a neon strand.



"You\'d be right in place in one of the chemistry labs. You know what they say, if it stinks it\'s biology, if it\'s green it\'s chemistry, if it doesn\'t work it\'s physics--or do I have the other two mixed up? I know physics doesn\'t work. It doesn\'t matter." He chuckled again, this time at my bemused expression. "Oh, and you\'ll want to get rid of those ridiculous shoes. Where did you get those?"



My dad was right. What an asshole. Fine.



I ripped the shoes off and tossed them to the floor. "Okay, then. I thought I was doing secretarial work?"



"I said you were an assistant. I want you to work in my lab." He stood up and pulled me to my feet; I resisted the urge to try to strangle him with his red silk tie.



"Uh, I\'m failing physics."



"I know. Don\'t worry, I won\'t give you anything too complicated. Let\'s go." He strode off towards the elevator, holding his metal briefcase in one hand and my shoes in the other. I grabbed my backpack and ran after him in my bare feet, my face flushed with embarassment as we caught the elevator together.



As the door closed and enveloped us in a gloomy half-light--there were no windows, just dark metal--I turned to him and asked, "So what do I do in the lab?"



"I don\'t know. Anything I need, really. Sort parts, get coffee, put things together if I want a break. Nothing complicated. But you\'ll know how to use a couple power tools by the time you\'re done with your tutoring." Another ding announced that we\'d arrived on--I squinted--the fifth most underground floor. We stepped out together, and he guided me down a hall to his office. I had to admit amazement at the LED screens that adorned the walls, like an episode of Star Trek come to life.



"Oh," he added, "and please try to be careful with them. I know that you\'re eighteen and technically an adult, but I would still hate for anything bad to happen to you, especially since your father works for me."



I nodded, and said, doing my best to keep the sarcasm out of my voice, "I\'m sure I can handle it, Dr. Starkwether."



Starkwether caught it anyway, and rolled his eyes at me before he punched in his access code and opened the door to his office. I peered in, and gasped in amazement. A glass desk and a black leather chair anchored the office; holographic panels floated in the air just above the desk, reflecting touchable boxes and windows embedded in the glass underneath. A huge whiteboard hung on the opposite wall, completely covered in symbols I didn\'t quite understand in tight, untidy handwriting. The entire back wall was glass; I could see a considerably more chaotic world beyond it, filled with the machinery and tools that Starkwether wanted me to learn how to use.



"You want me to work in there?"



"Right. Here\'s the deal. I won\'t charge you anything for the tutoring, but you have to finish whatever I ask you to do before you go home. Like I said, I promise nothing onerous."



"Onerous?"



He sneered at me again. "Never mind. I might work late, but you won\'t have to. You can go home and paint your nails black, or whatever it is you do that isn\'t physics."



I gaped. "I don\'t paint my nails!"



"Right, you must be too busy lighting up dark alleyways with your hair. Now. Physics. I like physics more than I like green hair."



"But you love physics. So you must at least like my hair." I folded my arms and raised my eyebrows at him.



Starkwether erased the board and sighed, sending tiny particles of dark dry-erase marker into the air. "It\'s all right. It doesn\'t really suit you, but you\'re--nice-looking enough to manage."



"Oh. I\'m nice-looking."



"That\'s enough." He set the eraser down and wrote in large letters at the top of the board: KINEMATICS.



"I am eighteen."



"It really doesn\'t matter." IT\'S THE STUDY OF MOTION went under KINEMATICS. "I won\'t lose my job over it, I don\'t have a wife, but if you look me up on Match.com, it specifically says \'no green hair.\' Oh, and if you want me to take my pants off, you have to know quantum mechanics."