Where do you see yourself in ten years? (8)

The final installment: a delusional vision of academic paradise.

[Previously: Parts 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, and 7.]

Back in Part 5 you had to deal with the second most annoying gimmick in fiction: the flashback. Now, to begin the final episode, we bring you the indisputably most annoying gimmick in fiction: the dream sequence. Keep calm. Don't let it disorient you. It's just a dream. It will be over soon.

If necessary, take a moment to prepare yourself.

Are you ready? Here we go...

* * *

My new office was fabulous. Carpet. Wood-panelled walls. A vast mahogany desk.

The best part, though, was what I did in the office.

I sat there, behind my big desk, running the most innovative, productive, successful scientific department in the world. And not just that, but the happiest. The world outside was a complete disaster, but here in our cozy little building, protected by impenetrable air defences, not to mention the renown and respect we commanded from all sides, worked the most motivated and fulfilled and joyous people on Earth.

How did I do it?

It was easy!

Brady and I were a perfect team. He was the guy with the charm and diplomacy and motivating pep talks. People almost welcomed a lull in their creativity, just so they could spend twenty minutes over coffee with Brady and emerge refreshed and energised.

He also knew actual science, and had great research instincts. He knew what were the best ideas to pursue, and the best directions to go in. Now that I was Head of Department, he had taken over my low-temperature lab, and re-purposed it to continue his old cryogenic research.

Prof Farmer was a more interesting case. He had been awarded funding solely on the premise that it would be extremely cool if he discovered a new force of Nature, because then it could be called “Farmer's Field”. Brady performed the miracle of convincing Farmer that not only was this intellectually vacuous but, even more impressively, that he should return the money to the funding agency. This was unprecedented! Everyone knows the fundamental rule of funding: never return any of the money.

As they like to say: you will never guess what happened next! 

The funding agencies were so impressed by this astounding act of intellectual honesty that they then made our entire department a national exemplar for scientific integrity, and awarded us ten times Farmer's original funding.

So, what did I do as Head of Department? I did what the best scientific leaders should always do: I stayed out of the way. My job was to be a hard-headed tough-guy jerk to all the university bean counters and bureaucracy-obsessed administrators, and protect my people from nonsense, so they could get on with whatever crazy science-y ideas they felt like pursuing.

It turned out I was very good at that. I could be a real evil bastard to anyone who threatened our department. As for doing science myself, well, I had to admit that I was useless at that. But that was fine! Under my wise leadership the department flourished, and I was a big part of making that happen, and that was enough for me.

Everyone was happy.

Then I woke up.

Everyone was not happy.

In fact, I have no idea how other people felt. For all I knew, maybe they were happy. They were certainly loving Brady. He had schmoozed the lot of them. He had them all fawning over him like groupies. Farmer's team were all behind him. My team were all behind him. Once he'd gone to talk to the College Dean and the Vice Chancellor and all those other higher ups, they were all charmed and loved him, too.

He wasn't anything special. He was just unusual. Normal, well-adjusted, kind, generous, personable people never make it in academia. We start with the undergrads, selecting for exactly the kinds of broken, twisted, freakish people who get high scores on exams. Then we embark on a programme of systematic abuse that is guaranteed to send any even vaguely sensible and self-respecting person running screaming out into the real world determined never to come back. It's easy to imagine what kind of warped dysfunctional sociopaths are left, but even among those we spend another decade or so weeding out any remaining tendencies towards rational thought or human empathy, before finally anointing them with a permanent faculty position.

The only way to get a half-normal human being into the upper levels of academic leadership are, it seems, by an insanely dangerous failed scientific experiment. The kind of thing that usually produces Spiderman or the Incredible Hulk but this time, miraculously, gave us a thing we could barely imagine: a nice person.

Everyone felt like we had been blessed with a divine gift.

Not me. To me he was a malignant virus against which no-one had any immunity.

You might ask: couldn't it just work like in my dream? Couldn't I leave him to do his thing, to love everyone and inspire everyone, while I reaped the benefits of the most functional and blissful department ever?

No. No I could not. He held all the power. If he turned on me, I was finished. There was no way to protect myself. There was no way to shore up support, because I had no support. There was no way to arrange the rules and the institutions in my favour because, in this horrible fucked up world, as perhaps is true deep down in all worlds, the rules and institutions were just a mirage. It was all about who was on your side, and everyone was on Brady's.

He had to go.

That said, my dream had taught me one thing. Its harmonious vision reminded me just how ridiculous Brady's position was.

Everyone might like him now, but it couldn't last. A gormless sap like that never succeeds in this world. I just had to bide my time and someone would come after him.

So I played it cool. I played that expansive wise leader from my dream. And I waited.

What happened when the university administration imposed nonsensical rules on us? Easy — Brady went off to argue with them, and everyone knew he took responsibility, so he would get the blame when he failed.

What happened when a mediocre professor pushed to get a job for their total zero of a protege? I made it known that I relied entirely on Brady's expert judgement, and if anyone was dissatisfied, they should talk to him.

What happened when the finance people told us that we had to fire some people? What a sad and regrettable situation it was! All we could do was try to keep our very best people — and Brady should select them.

At first this didn't look like it was working. He kept being successful at everything he did, and everyone adored him.

He had the brilliant insight that the invading forces would never allow any research that might lead to economic advancement, or technological superiority, or greater wellbeing. University research was glorious for political public relations, but it was important that it was completely harmless. Brady realised that the physics department was ideally suited to such a research landscape, and pivoted us towards Theoretical Physics. We were suddenly awarded buckets of funding. String theory, the interpretation of quantum mechanics, alternatives to general relativity, the multiverse — you name it, we were being paid through the nose to do it.

It was a Renaissance for our department, and it was all Brady's doing.

That was fine. I was patient. I could wait.

---

That’s the end, at least for now. If you’re sick of fiction, rejoice, because the next few weeks will be “non-fiction”, by which I mean my ill-formed opinions. In the mean time, if you enjoyed this, even just a little bit, please “like” and “share”. And regardless of your opinion, your comments are welcome. (Don’t worry, I will delete the ones I don’t like.)