The research cruise. Part 2.
(2/4) Ambitions, rumours and puerile satire
[Navigation station: here’s Parts 1 and 3. And here’s a great big Table of Contents.]
To recap: Pete was a businessman searching for investment opportunities at a scientific research institute that was housed on a luxury cruise ship, where all of the scientists had shunned him at dinner because he was a shallow capitalist, and now he was in his cabin sadly following a moronic journalist's advice to finally get some reception on his phone, when there was a knock at the door.
When he opened the door a nervous and furtive scientist slipped into Pete's cabin and quickly shut the door. He said, “My name is Dr. Hans Groper. I need to talk to you,” but then all he did for two minutes was pace the cabin wringing his hands.
Pete prepared himself for a shocking exposé of this so-called research vessel. He already knew about the contagious viruses research deck, which was so secretive no-one had any idea what manner of terrifying diseases they were researching, not even the people on the vaccine research decks above and below.
In the minutes before the scientist arrived Pete had acquired a data signal on his phone and found several gushing articles from the flaky journalist Harrison Bottleneck, describing this ship as the greatest concentration of the greatest minds in the world, including a total of six geriatric Nobel-prize winners, who were all overturning and shattering and confounding and performing no end of other metaphorical violence to current scientific paradigms.
Then he dug further, and found rumours of scandal. No-one knew where in the world the ship was located. Some thought the reason was that a virus had escaped. At first no port would allow the ship to dock, but then the reports of contagion and death became so serious that the military apparatus of seven different nations were sent to hunt the ship and obliterate it, possibly with a thermonuclear device. That would indeed be a good reason to go into hiding.
Given the number of people Pete had seen casually science-ing at the pool, he found tales of mass disease and death unlikely.
The next scandal he found was even juicier: rumours that the research ship was funded by a cabal of billionaire sex pests, who used it as a massive floating palace of vice. They had even obtained additional support from multiple national science funding agencies for what was openly referred to as a “carnal pleasure lab”. According to one article the lab occupied the entirety of what was re-numbered Deck 69, and lab members had a standing reservation at the main swimming pool every Tuesday afternoon. Initial efforts to suppress the “carnal pleasure lab” rumour were put on hold when it was found that the sordid publicity generated oodles of extra cachet with the public, and a phenomenal increase in visiting researcher applications. Now that Pete thought about it, the ratio of male to female scientists was alarmingly close to 1950s levels. Did it make the rumour more or less credible that he had failed to see any signs of this lab's purported research “subjects” – neither women, nor children, nor animals?
The third rumour was even more preposterous, but Pete suspected it contained a grain of truth. There had been an acrimonious split among the institute's directors, and two of them had left to start a competing institute. The level of rancour was clear when the new institute was housed on a refurbished 17th-century pirate ship, which was propelled by two vast turbines adapted from a nuclear submarine, and had been sighted zooming through the oceans of the world, in search of its bitter rival.
The reason Pete knew that this rumour was at least partly true was that one of his fellow businessmen was currently searching for investment opportunities on board that very ship.
Pete's investigations got no further, because it was at that point that the scientist Hans Groper appeared at his door.
When Hans ceased his pacing and sat down on the small chair next to the small desk, he said, “How much do you make each year?”
Pete blinked. “I'm sorry?”
“How much money do you make a year? You've turned up here to invest. You must make a lot of money.”
“Uh. Well. Uh. I. Uh.” Pete, as previously noted, lacked many of the essential qualities of a good businessman, and one of them was the insatiable urge to boast. Hans was confused, because scientists share the same trait.
Fortunately, his annual earnings could remain the exclusive knowledge of his tax return, because before he could come up with an answer the scientist began to cry.
“You need to find me a well-paying job!” Hans wailed. “I'm destitute.”
“You live on a luxury cruise liner.”
“For now! For now! You don't know what it will be like when my fellowship ends and I return to my university, and my home and my family.”
Pete ventured, “You'll be happy to see them?”
“You don't know how we have to live! A tiny little house. One car I'm struggling to pay off. Not even a fancy car, just a regular family four-door sedan that I can only afford to replace every five years. The house has only just enough rooms for us each to have our own bedroom, and of course a work office for my wife and I, and a home gym. You wouldn't believe how small the pool is. The kids want us to get a bigger one, with a diving board, but how will we ever do that and still send them to private schools?”
“That doesn't sound too bad.”
“Only because my wife has a proper job. Can you believe it? She earns at least twice what I do! Do you know what that feels like? That's almost worse than when I find out how much all my ex-students make. I try to shame them for quitting academia, but at the end of the day, it's me who has to limit himself to one case of good champagne per year. I want out!”
Pete had come to this research institute hoping for a way to fortify his ideals by being in contact with dedicated truth seekers, but now the first one he had talked to inspired him to a plan of unscrupulous deception.
“Fine. I can get you a high five-figure salary. But first you have to help me.”
“Anything!”
“I want to know what's happening on this ship. Is there fantastic research, or not?”
“Not from me. I've invented a new particle and I have a two-year fellowship to come up with a name for it cool enough to get me a book deal. Maybe try the guys in the lower deck trying to do fundamental science research with a revolutionary new kind of vibration-isolation system.”
“Vibration isolation? On a ship?”
“That's what's revolutionary about it.”
“Hmm.”
“Or you could try to find the Welsh whizz-kid.”
“The Welsh whizz kid?”
“Child genius from an impoverished town somewhere in Wales. They spirited him here and the moment he arrived he freaked out because it was the first time in his life he encountered direct sunlight. No-one's seen him since. The rumour is that they're doing psychological experiments on him.”
“More rumours! I want to find some science.”
“Maybe you should try the Nobel Prize winners?”
“Where are they?”
“They keep to themselves in the luxury forward cabins. They say they won't talk to anyone who isn't as smart as they are, but I'm sure they're open to investment. Their jacuzzi needs an upgrade.”
“Perfect! I'll talk to them tomorrow.”
When Hans left Pete noticed that while they had been talking a large number of notes had been pushed under his cabin door. He flicked through them. None were important — just more scientists asking for a high-paying job.
Before he went to bed he wrote an email to his colleague on the “pirate” ship, asking if they had any idea what was going on. Then he displayed impressive discipline by going immediately to bed and refusing to check his email, or look up anything else for the rest of the night. Eventually he even went to sleep.
That’s right! In the next episode you will — hopefully — get to meet some Nobel Prize winners. Wow! I’ve met some Nobel Prize winners myself, and it is indeed extremely exciting, but also, I should make very clear, a profound and moving experience, and certainly not — I cannot stress this enough, absolutely not — the inspiration for anything in the next episode. With that out of the way, here’s Part 3.
Dr. Hans Groper - love it! Some of these character names are worthy of Pynchon.