|
Kevin Allen's Malcolm: The Meeting
By Mr. Chaos
Ian Malcolm briskly walked past the display booths. He hated being here. He should be back at University, tackling his newest puzzle. He never called them problems; the word didn’t belong in mathematics. If something is a problem, it usually meant that it was something that was a mistake, an obstacle that didn’t help you. He’d never tackled a difficult formula and idea and not learned something that helped him. It was a quest, a mission.
So, instead of being on his newest mission, he was trapped at a Science Convention, where snobby socialites worried about the little things and spend more time worrying about their next grant then if what they were doing helped mankind. That was the difference between him and them. Everything he did helped, it was meant to show people the world.
Then there were his colleagues. They were interested in the bottom line. During the last century, most discovers were about products. Sure, a few were showed everyone things they had only dreamed of. But most of it was ego. Ian thought back bitterly to the moon landing. That had been a wondrous event, something that had taught us about space. The thing was, most everyone forgot that it was a result of a President and his ego. That had tainted it for him.
He paused, looking at one booth. It was an All-Natural Remedy booth, filled with all the things that 10 years ago people would have laughed at, hippie nonsense. But now, with the 80’s slowly fading away, people were interested in what these “new” ideas. He snickered as he took a look at one bottle of pills. “Oh look, it was made of plastic! And we all know how natural plastic is! Hypocrites.” Ian shook his head. He loved how quickly our souls were sold.
“Dr. Malcolm?”
Ian sighed, his shoulders slumped. He had hoped he would be able to avoid making some silly small talk. Normally, he would love to talk to people. Problem was, these weren’t people, they were close-minded scientists. And Ian dealt with some very radical things. That was one thing he admitted the average man had over scientists: They could accept change.
“Yes…?” Ian said, turned to confront his “attacker”. He looked down to see a small man. He was old, his hair white like snow and his face creased with a lifetime’s worth of wrinkles. He wore a fine blue suit, the kind people with money and little sense wore. He leaned against his cane and smiled.
“We haven’t meet….”
“Yes we have, just now.”
The old man nodded. “Of course. Anyway, I was hoping to talk to you about a project my company is working on….”
“Here it comes.” Ian thought, his mind already forming an escape plan.
“…and I need your help.”
“There it is.” Ian shook his head. “I am sorry, but I have a full plate, what with my research and rejecting other offers. Have a good day.” With that, Ian turned and began to walk away.
“Pity. I guess I’ll find another who will…..”
Ian was ahead of him. “I don’t care what the perks, money or changes to the world it brings, I am too busy.”
“…be as versed in the Chaos Theory as you.”
Ian paused, an internal battle waging in his head. Should he keep moving, and in the end save himself a potential headache? Or should he allow his curiosity to play. He rolled his eyes and turned.
“You have 3 minutes.”
Ian followed the old man to his booth, a plain white one, hidden behind some larger booths. Ian sat down as the old man pulled out some papers.
“Are you familiar with the film, “The Lost World?””
Ian nodded. It was the famous film PBS showed whenever they talked about dinosaurs. Two clay beasts, horrible made, running around biting each other. Sadly, it was the best thing they had to a real dinosaur.
The old man seemed to read his thoughts. “I am amazed that every person in the world is fascinated with dinosaurs, yet they never saw one. Such great faith. I mean, there are more people that believe in the great lizards then god.”
“Well, there are bones, fossil records….”
“And there are stories, wall carvings and temples. The fact is, we believe in these things. That is where I come in.” The old man leaned in close, as if he were about to tell Malcolm the secrets of life. “But I am about to change that. I can’t tell you how, but I am working on something that could change the way we look at the world.”
Ian tried hard not to roll his eyes. He had heard this song and dance before.
“So, what do you need me to do? I’m not a paleontologist, I am merely a mathematician.”
The old man laughed. “You sell yourself short. You are a Chaotician. And that is what matters here. Am I correct in thinking that the Chaos Theory can help in predicting what a system will do?”
Ian nodded. Among other things, Chaos theory had bee known to help predict what a system would do.
“Ah, then I have picked the right man. I would like you to take a look at some plans, and tell me they will work.”
Ian sighed, taking the papers and putting them in a briefcase. He had long learned it was better to just take the papers and run. Half the time they would never even call him again. The other half usually didn’t care what he had to say. They merely wanted to use him as another footnote to make their plans appear better.
“Goodbye Mr…..”
“Hammond. And I will see you soon.”
Ian headed for his car, and tossed the papers into the trunk. That would be the last time he saw them, as well as the old man.
How wrong he was.
7/30/2003 5:23:22 PM
Comment on this fan fiction!
|
|
|
