Not to mention ice cream, too.
She set aside her notebook to look up a seasonal flavor list for the nearest Salt & Straw location, then scrolled through the latest additions to STEMinist Online’s post about the Fermilab scientist. A user named DataDominatrix, who identified herself as having worked at SVLAC a handful of years ago, theorized that this same man might’ve changed labs and managed her during her tenure on the research campus, given that her work on time crystals had ended up in his first-author papers, while another woman posited that he might be the supervisor who’d appropriated her data on the hardness of random quantum circuits. Erin read with interest and a giddy rush of outrage on behalf of her fellow STEMinists—and her weekend actually closed out on an optimistic note; she had an ice cream date set for next week with Bannister and she’d sent the details of her LIGO research to Richard Hall even earlier than expected. But as for Monday at the lab…
She booted up her computer in the Modern Physics bullpen to find a new item on her calendar for the day:D.O.E. After-Action Sync. She had a nine o’clock meeting scheduled in the Manzanita conference room with Dr. Nadine Fong, Dr. John Kramer, and Dr. Ethan Meyer.
A sudden jitter of anxiety hit her stomach. She’d gone too far last Friday. She knew that. In attracting notice from the United States Office of Science and securing its consideration for research funding, she’d broken through yet another barrier to her success, just as she fought to do every day while navigating the lab’s internal politics and shouldering her way up her field’s supposedly meritocratic ladder. But her pride in the achievement was… flat. Barreling past the hurdle while also executing her revenge had left collateral damage behind. Real damage—to people.One person.Public damage. It was a line she shouldn’t have crossed.
Nadine—and maybe Human Resources—was finally stepping in.
She grabbed a sudoku sheet. She tried to breathe. Maybe sudoku really was better than caffeine for clearing brain fog, as Bannister said—but this wasn’t brain fog. This was panic. And it didn’t matter if she solved her puzzle at her desk, or if she hyperventilated in the bathroom. Because when the morning ticked on to nine o’clock, she had no more time for either option.
She stood tall. Despite the exterior temperature and the heat beating in her throat, she zipped her utility jacket up to her chin. She walked into the conference room.
Meeting:D.O.E. After-Action Sync
Day/Time:Monday, 9:00 a.m.–10:00 a.m.
Location:Manzanita Conference Room
Required Attendees:Dr. Nadine Fong, Dr. John Kramer, Dr. Erin Monaghan—
—and him.
Against all odds, his Monday wasn’t beginning in Dr. Kramer’s office—where it also could’ve ended. After last week, he wouldn’t have been surprised if his supervisor had called him on the carpet this morning, told him to pack up his desk, scrub the internet clean of every mention of his name in conjunction with Dr. Kramer’s work, and be ready for a security escort off campus by noon. Ethan would’ve complied, of course. Instead, he was summoned to a meeting. Including Erin Monaghan. Which wasn’t a much better alternative.
He entered the conference room to find his rival already seated at the central table, busy on her laptop. Ostensibly busy, at least. She must’ve heard him come in. He thumped the door closed. She didn’t look up. But the glare from the overhead lights on her glasses shifted.
He took the chair farthest from her spot. She continued to study something on her computer. The building’s air conditioning hummed. He tapped a capped pen against his palm. The flare on her lenses shifted again.
He waited.
Drs. Kramer and Fong joined them eventually. His supervisor dropped a briefcase onto the table, rattling the laminated wood and freezing Ethan’s pen mid-tap.
Then:
“Congratulations, Meyer.” Dr. Kramer’s mouth was thin. He pulled out a chair and examined Ethan over his steepled fingers.
Thank youdidn’t seem appropriate, somehow.
He stayed silent.
Fong settled into an adjacent seat; the bulge of her belly barely fit between her chair and the table. She smiled at Erin. “Secretary McCandless and Dr. Richard Hall from the Office of Science were both impressed with the findings from SVLAC’s current research in modern physics. In particular, the work from our two departments.”
“McCandless read the first page of an internet search on relativistic mechanics and quantum mechanics during the weekend. Now she’s an expert,” was Dr. Kramer’s addition. “Quantum gravity appeared in her list. The majority of the research is coming out of China and Eastern Europe, which apparently alarmed her.”
“She’s right that the current geopolitical situation can’t be ignored. Secretary McCandless’s position is a political appointment and, although it was admittedly cursory, her initiative to identify the vanguard areas of work in our fields is admirable. Dr. Hall concurs that the United States’ National Labs should keep pace with the frontier, too.”
“Like a new space race?” Finally, Erin closed her laptop.
“Yes. Since knowledge is power in the Information Age, the Office of Science has authorized immediate, generous funding of”—Fong named an amount that topped even the Eischer-Langhoff grant—“to SVLAC for studies on quantum gravity. The government won’t put out a call for proposals. It’s simply authorized the funds, with an end-of-year report on our progress and results determining whether the contract is renewed for another period. Oversight is minimal. While the process is unusual and bypasses our standard procedures for calculating the urgency of SVLAC’s projects, the federal quantum gravity research study is now the highest priority for our departments.”
Erin’s elbow slipped off the table.
Ethan dropped his pen.
“Now, I’m starting my maternity leave later this week, and for the next ten months, Dr. Kramer will be—”
“At CERN.” Dr. Kramer leaned back in his chair. “Van Buskirk will provide minimal managerial and fiscal oversight of the Quantum group for the duration of my absence.”
