Lemuria, Burt Clinchandhill [adventure books to read .TXT] 📗

Sylvia took a deep breath. “It’s just that I have a strange feeling about it all.”

“That’s only because you looked him up on the Internet.”

“So what,” her mother urged. “You read it yourself. He’s an eccentric, self-centered, self-absorbed, egomaniacal person.”

“With a lot of money to give away.” Jennifer laughed. “I can tell you like him already. But seriously, Mom. I’ll be fine, and I promise you that I won’t commit to anything. Trust me.”

“I trust you, darling, absolutely. I’m just not so sure about him.”

Jennifer rose from her chair, walked to her mother, and from behind, hugged her in her chair. “I love you, Mom.”

“I know, dear.” Sylvia took her daughter’s hand and squeezed it tight.

“But I gotta go now, Mom.”

“It’s a five-minute drive.”

“But I don’t want to be late. I’ll be fine and back in a few hours.” She bent over and kissed her mother on the forehead before taking her bag from the table. “Love you,” Jennifer shouted as she walked the garden path to the front of the house. She got into her car—a white 2016 Chevrolet Spark that she’d bought solely because of the two black stripes across the body. In under a minute, she turned from Livingstone Street onto Whitney Avenue.

She considered herself lucky that her meeting was this early in the afternoon. At the end of the day, Whitney Avenue was filled with cars from people trying to get home after a day’s work at Yale University. After a few minutes, she turned onto Prospect Street. She drove slowly, searching for the building. Almost at the crossing with Canal Street, she saw the modern, yellow brick building with the sign that read, ‘Logynous Laboratory New Haven.’ The staff had told her to park in the back, so she turned onto the premises and parked behind the building. As she walked back to the front, she realized the lab was directly across from Grove Street Cemetery. The oldest burial ground in the U.S. where, during her breaks from college, she’d liked to wander, looking for the graves of famous people like Glenn Miller, Eli Whitney and Noah Webster. The historic landmark was designed as a ‘city of the dead,’ with named streets, avenues and cross streets.

Jennifer had always thought the cemetery was completely surrounded by the Yale University campus, and wondered how a private lab facility fit in. I guess money still opens every door. Through the entrance, she went to the only deviation in the otherwise speckless clean white hall. A transparent video screen on a concrete column showed a projected woman.

“Hi, my name is Lea. Can I help you?” the avatar spoke.

It took a moment for Jennifer to adjust to speaking to a computer animation. “Ah, sure,” she stammered a bit. “I have a two o’clock meeting with Eldin Mulder. My name is Jennifer Porter.”

The avatar looked down a short moment as if looking at a paper or a screen. “Yes, I see it here. Do you have any identification with you, a driver’s license, perhaps?”

“Sure, one moment.” Jennifer searched her bag and presented the card.

“A bit closer, please?” Lea asked, and Jennifer held the card up to the screen. After the sound of a camera shutter, an image of her card appeared on the screen and moved to the top right corner. “Thank you. Now, if you please sign your name over here.” On the screen appeared a paper-like form that mentioned Jennifer’s name, her entry time, and a copy of the picture from her driver’s license.

“On the screen?” Jennifer asked.

“You can draw your signature with your finger on the screen, in the square, just below your name.” Jennifer drew her signature on the screen where it appeared. “Thank you. Now, if you walk behind me into the corridor, take the elevator on the right to the second floor. Someone will be waiting for you there.”

“Thank you.” Jennifer started walking toward the elevator. After a few steps, she turned to see if Lea also had a backside. Two front sides, eyes in the back of your head. That might come in handy. She took the elevator.

When the doors opened on the second floor, a young woman, dressed in a white lab coat, greeted Jennifer with an outstretched hand.

“Hi, I’m Deborah. You’re here to see Mr. Mulder?”

“You’re a real person,” Jennifer replied. “And yes, I am.”

The young woman smiled as Jennifer shook her hand “I’m sorry, but he’s rounding up a meeting at this very moment, but he’ll probably be with you in about five minutes. If you will, please take a seat.” She pointed to a white leather couch opposite the elevator.

“Thank you.” Jennifer stepped toward the couch and sat down. Next to the sofa, a small table was filled with magazines, and she browsed through them. The Journal of Human Genetics, Nature Genetics, Genetic & Genomic News and Genetics Time Magazine. She picked up the last one, and as soon as she took it, she heard a loud voice from the hallway to the right. She recognized the voice as Mulder’s. At first, it was hard to make out, but when it came closer, she clearly understood that it was an intense discussion. She quickly leaned back in her chair and opened the magazine, put her head behind it and pretended to be focused on her reading.

“You can’t do that. There are procedures,” she heard a man yell at Mulder. “These things take time.”

Then Mulder called out again. “Of course, I know the procedures, and do you have any idea how much time these procedures take? It will be a wonder if we get anything done in our lifetime. I’m afraid I can’t wait for that. I can keep you informed, but that’s it.”

“I still think you’re making a mistake.” The other voice sounded fierce. “You can’t possibly fathom the implications. There’s no precedent.”

“Of course there’s no precedent. That is precisely the reason why we’re planning this. Listen, there’s no need to worry. We did the math. We’re good.”

Jennifer felt