Launch Pad (7 page)

“So let’s multiply that all out,” Bev said. “The number of potential dates at the party is equal to…?”

“The number of people at the party, four hundred, times the fraction I’d like, times the fraction that are single, times the fraction that would like me—a hundred percent on that last one. I get ten. But I’d stop after one. All you need is one good one.”

His comment struck her as more profound than he probably intended. But one good what? One good relationship? Or could it be one good job? Or perhaps one good scientific discovery to be remembered for? She wished she knew for sure. It seemed too hard to accomplish them all.

“I suppose,” Bev agreed after a moment’s reflection. “But let’s apply that to astrobiology. Imagine Earth’s trying to find a date with an alien civilization. Or at least some texting.”

“Huh,” he said. “The Drake equation is just a kind of interstellar dating equation, isn’t it? Intelligent life is just picky about what kind of star systems it shows up in.”

“Yes! You could put it that way. Makes more sense now? Not just a math problem?”

“Yeah.” He stood up to go, but turned back. “Yeah, it does. Thanks. Not all my teachers would make the extra effort like you did, especially talking about dating. But I got it.”

Bev felt a mild blush, and a sense of accomplishment. “Great. Can you send in the next in line?”

“Sure, Professor,” he said, grinning. “Happy to.”

If she were going to lose her research time today, she hoped the remainder of her students would have similar breakthroughs. She could calculate the odds, but she decided to remain optimistic and assume it would be one hundred percent.

As the student walked out, however, she realized she hadn’t caught his name, and that took the edge off her good mood. Just because she had a big enrollment didn’t mean she couldn’t make some personal connections, did it? She’d just have to make more of an effort. She could be good at this, and maybe be that one good teacher that changed lives. It would take more time, but Bev promised herself to try to get the names, even if it were just those visiting during her office hours.

O O O

Bev sat in her office rereading an email about a calibration issue with the Argus data that required the reprocessing of everything she had done to date. All the uncertainties had to be modified, and in her image reconstructions their values were critical in distinguishing what was real and what was noise. Any work done now would not be reliable. This would set her back a couple of weeks at least, although she could continue to test and optimize her code even though she didn’t have any actual reliable data to analyze. She felt weary just considering it.

Another email popped up. It was from Rodger.

Hi Bev,

Care to pop out for a drink tomorrow? Dinner, too, if you like.

Cheers,

Rodger

She stared at the screen and went into a little panic. Was he asking her out as a friend and colleague? Or was he asking her out on a date?

And why didn’t she have a local friend to talk with about it?

She read the message over and over, wondering what to do. She liked Rodger. Under different circumstances, she might be interested in dating him, and maybe more. But right now? Right now was for working her butt off to make sure she got papers published, grants funded, students taught, and got tenure. There would be time for dating later, but if she got distracted and failed at this job, well, that was disaster. It would break her heart more than she could imagine a man doing so.

Rodger was a funny, smart, talented guy. He could probably date all the time and still get tenure. He wasn’t going to wait, not the six years for tenure or for her.

But what if he was just being friendly? She could use a little break for a drink, even dinner. She had to eat, after all. There was a new sushi place, and she hadn’t had sushi in forever.

But, no. Better not to take the chance. Right now her attention had to remain focused like a laser beam on making sure she was on track for tenure.

Was she making a mistake? She did like Rodger. What was wrong with a little social life? She could do more than one thing at a time, surely.

No, she told herself firmly. There would be time for that later, when she had tenure.

The lonely part of her offered a wistful compromise. One drink outside of work couldn’t hurt, could it?

But what if she stayed for more than one? Or even dinner?

Bev’s thoughts bounced back and forth between her options, until she noticed that a half hour had passed. She smacked a firm palm down on her desktop.

Enough already! She could not afford dithering, and was mad at herself for letting it happen. She replied.

Hi Rodger,

I’d love to, but I’m at a critical juncture with my research and need to see whether or not it pans out. Give me a raincheck?

Thanks,

Bev

She hit “send” before she let herself rethink it again. There. It was done. Quick and painless. One thing at a time. One priority at time. No voluntary distractions. The ones that were part of her job description were bad enough.

She glanced at the clock and berated herself. Look at how much time I’ve wasted already.

Bev returned to her calculations.

O O O

All twenty-two professors in the department sat in the Fischer Room, where most of their grad classes were held, for the monthly faculty meeting. The room wasn’t ideal, as all the seats faced forward to where the department chair sat, leaving it difficult to see each other, but it was big enough without being too big.

Bev was starting to realize why faculty meetings were universally dreaded. It wasn’t that they were bad, exactly. They were, however, an opportunity for some to have a captive audience for their pet projects, to be forced to confront departmental politics, as well as to be in the spotlight, and not always in a good way.

She’d figured she had some leeway given how new she was, but there was an agenda item labeled “New Faculty Report” and she was the only recent hire in the astronomy department. Marty had caught her in the hallway and just told her to give an honest appraisal about how things were going when her turn came, and to try to take any comments or criticisms constructively.

Bev did not look forward to it. The other professors were not only her de facto mentors to give her construct advice. They were also the first group of people who would vote whether or not to award her tenure. Being totally honest might not be the wisest first impression in all respects.

She sat through the discussions about program assessment, a new electronics course for the upper-level physics and astronomy majors, and an announcement about the end-of-semester (formerly holiday, formerly Christmas) party, which would be held at the chair’s house as usual.

“What’s next?” Marty asked, adjusting his glasses to read his agenda.

“New faculty,” Rajiv, their cosmologist, offered, twisting his neck to look toward Bev.

On the spot, yes. She cleared her throat and sat up straighter. “That would be me.”

“How are things going?” Marty prompted.

Rodger would make a joke, get everyone to laugh, and then breeze through this. Maybe she could try it herself. “Terrific,” she said, and took a pause to suck people in. Now the punchline, “I’m managing to get everything done in under eighty hours a week!”

They chuckled, thankfully, despite what she thought was a poor delivery. It was a joke other professors who weren’t deadwood could appreciate, or at least the ones who hadn’t been associate professors too long. They didn’t need to know it wasn’t actually a joke in her case, and she suspected it might not be a joke in theirs, either. She hoped not, or she’d be alone among them.

Bev recounted her progress and setbacks with her research, dealing with the recalibration issue in particular. Argus was a high-profile NASA mission, and in many respects her career would rise and fall with it. She reminded them how she was leading the first effort that had the potential to see what planets orbiting other stars actually looked like. She wished she had better results, and didn’t need to use the qualifier “potential.” After the Hubble and James Webb Space Telescopes people weren’t impressed with vague smudges in a circular shape, and she’d have to do better. The other faculty knew that, too.

She talked about her class, and told the story about her student, using a “Date Equation” analogy to the “Drake Equation.”

Ivan, a theorist, stopped her partway through her story. His eyebrows were lowered disapprovingly. “Don’t do that again. It’s dangerous to have the slightest whiff of anything sexual. You’d be better off learning to cover your ass first.”

She disliked being interrupted, but could not afford to alienate Ivan.

“But it worked,” said Bev. She was disappointed that her reply came out sounding defensive. Well, she should be able to defend herself, shouldn’t she? Of course, but she was junior and he was the one who would be voting for or against her in a few years.

“You got lucky,” Ivan declared.

“Are you sure you want to use that expression?” asked Marty, smirking. “It might be misconstrued.”

Everyone laughed at Ivan’s expense. Bev felt relieved, although she worried Ivan might hold it against her. She just wanted to do a good job. She didn’t want to prioritize covering her own butt over teaching a student. Maybe she should have a talk with Marty at some point about risks, priorities, and if she should worry about Ivan.

She decided to finish with her announcement about landing her first grad student. “Dino expressed interest in working with me, and we’re meeting later to get started.”

“Dino, the Italian?” Rajiv asked.

Bev thought “Dino” was sufficient as they only had one in the department. “Yes.”

“Hmm,” said Rajiv. “He came to me on Monday saying he wanted to work with me. We’ve already sketched out a project for him and he’s got background reading already.”

Bev felt like someone had punched her in the stomach. “Really?” was all she could say.

“Yes, I’m sorry to say. He said he had spoken with other professors, but had not found a satisfactory project.”

Well, that sucks, she thought. It wasn’t that he was the only student in the department who would be looking for an advisor. It was just that she’d already started making plans for the projects they’d do together. She’d mentally committed to him, but apparently he had not committed to her. She felt betrayed, and would have to continue to work by herself.

Aloud, she said, “Okay. Then I don’t have any students working with me yet to report. I’m done.”

She waited for everyone’s attention to leave her and stewed a bit until the meeting finished.

At least she’d have a little more free time without Dino to train. Maybe she could continue to keep it to under eighty hours a week.

O O O

Bev walked into the classroom auditorium, down the stairs, and up to the computer console. She set up her displays, links, and waited for the appointed time to begin. She had only this one lecture left before the Thanksgiving break, a sorely needed break that would let her finish preparing the last week of lectures and write a final exam.

Her colleagues had warned her that attendance would be poor on this date, especially late Tuesday afternoon, no matter what policy she had about absences. They were right. Only about a third of the class was in attendance, and she considered cancelling on the spot.

Then she caught sight of the student with whom she had discussed Drake and dating. He sat in his usual spot in the second row, blonde-hair pocking out from under his baseball cap. It wasn’t just about the quantity, she mused. Quality counted, too. She felt she had made a connection with him, even if she hadn’t tracked down his name yet. She promised herself she would give the best lecture she was capable of, and get as many of her students as possible to have a transformative experience.

“Okay,” she said clapping her hands together. “Let’s get started.”

Bev reminded them about the final exam schedule and the review session she’d hold, and then brought up her first slide.

“Are we alone in the Universe?” she asked, echoing the rhetorical question on the screen behind her. Or the question that should have been there.

A couple of students started giggling and pointing. Their commotion spread out until all the students were whispering to each other.

What was going on? She gave herself a quick glance and saw that her clothing seemed to be in order. She turned to look up at the slide, hoping her files hadn’t been hacked with porn. Or worse.

At first it looked fine, but then she caught it.

Her first slide didn’t quite read as she’d intended. Instead it read, “Are We Alone in the University?”

Bev had obviously been up a little too late working on that one. She hoped there weren’t other obvious mistakes. She gave the students a rueful grin.

“Okay, you’re all awake and paying attention. I guess that we all feel alone from time to time. You guys are away from your families, although I hope you get to see them for the holiday. We’re obviously not alone literally, all sharing this space in the classroom, this experience today, even if many of your classmates skipped out on us to go see their families.”

She realized she was rambling and straying too close to some personal truths she didn’t want to face. At least not right now.

A girl wearing too much make-up blurted out, “Can we all get extra credit for coming today?”

That almost made Bev snort. How entitled her students were!

“No,” she said quickly. “Your reward is a valuable learning experience your absent classmates will have to go without. You’re already getting something extra they won’t.”

After that, she had better deliver. In many ways this lecture was the ultimate lecture of the class, at least it was philosophically and to her personally. It was one of the biggest questions humans could ask, and one she hoped she’d see answered within her lifetime.

It was her job to get them to consider that today, for at least an hour, without worrying about grades, which were really not that important in the grand scheme of things. Einstein didn’t have particularly great grades after all.