The Scientist

“How was work today, Daniel?” the waitress at the pub asked politely. He rubbed his eyes.

“It wasn’t a good day, Terry,” he said. “I need a drink. Can I get a drink?”

“Of course. You want dinner too?”

“No, not yet. I’ll let you know when I want food. Right now, I want a drink. And make it strong.”

“Alright, Daniel. Can I tell you something? I know that you’re frustrated, but I also know you’re right. You’re such a smart man. I’ve known you since you were a little one, and I think it’s great that you’re taking after your father, being a scientist.”

“Thanks Terry. I just need some progress. You’ve no idea how stressful something like this is.” “Oh, I’m sure I don’t. I’ll be back with your drink in just a bit.” Terry walked off quietly, trying to give an encouraging smile towards Daniel. He caught a young woman about his age looking questioningly at him. She stood up and walked over to him.

“Hello. I’m Catherine Thomas. I don’t mean to intrude, but . . . I heard you’re a scientist?”

“Yes, I’m a scientist. My name is Daniel Caldwell. Why?”

“Oh! I am a scientist, as well. Are you working on a theory?”

“Actually, yes, I am. I’m working on proving the theory of the expanding earth. What are you working on?” His eyes softened, interested. A laugh escaped her throat.

“I guess we’re on opposite sides, then. I’m working on the theory of plate tectonics. We’re trying to get the world to open up to it.” Suddenly, Daniel’s eyes hardened again. “So, Daniel . . . I think it would be great if we could have a conversation about our theories. Here’s my business card. Do you think that would be possible?” “Oh. I’ve got my business card here, as well. Ahh, here it is. I suppose if I need questions answered about the plate tectonics theory, you’ll be the person to call. Thanks.” He knew this wasn’t going to happen. Daniel personally held a grudge against any scientists supporting or investing in the plate tectonics theory. He knew now that it was a reasonable theory, and he desperately wanted to prove it wrong- to find a fault with it. He had personally invested five million dollars in the expanding earth idea- his whole life savings. At the time, he had so much faith in it, that he just couldn’t pass it up. That was when he was twenty three. After two years of no progress in proving this theory, he began to question it himself. He found mistakes in it, and every night he prayed that he was just imagining them out of insecurity.

But he did want to call Catherine. There was something about her eyes. They were the color of basil, but almost transparent. It was almost as if it was watered down green food coloring. They pulled you in, interested you. And she had a nice smile . . .

He snapped out of his daze once Terry returned with a glass of scotch. “Thanks, Terry. I think I’ll have dinner at my house tonight. Thanks for the scotch.” He stood up, tossed a tenner on the wooden tabletop, and chugged his drink.

On his way home, he pulled Catherine’s business card out of his pocket and examined it. He traced the black printed digits with his finger, committing them to memory, while thinking about those transfixing eyes. Maybe he would call her. About plate tectonics. Yes. Plate tectonics . . .