this to happen,” replied the woman with long black hair and large brown eyes. “But the facts remain, something has happened here; and I can’t begin to explain it.” She put her coffee on the desk, shook her head, and rolled her beautiful eyes up to her friend. “Ivana, I’m a mathematician, after all.”
“The math is in front of you,” responded Livancic.
“That’s what makes it difficult for me. It’s clear, but there is opacity and doubt.”
“Doubt about your beliefs?” Livancic asked, hoping to find a sense of empathy or corroboration.
“No, doubt about the data. You have stacks of folders from your patients’ studies, and also these notes from this Doogie person. But where does it lead? Where is the correlation? Why is there so much advanced math from a person who has only a fifth grade education? And how does he link in with your other patients whom he’s never met?”
“Well, when Dr. Flores arrives, perhaps we can come to some sort of pathway or intersection,” Livancic answered, now wondering if calling her friend up from Southern California was prudent or necessary. She looked at the woman who diligently read over the documents and data from the other stack of folders, her large eyes moving quickly over the material like a human scanning machine.
Dr. Zelda Snow, professor of Quantum Physics and Mathematical Engineering at UCLA, was a woman ruled by equations and empirical data. Like most mathematicians and experts of the hard sciences, she didn’t trust guess work, hunches or intuition. Everything on the physical Earth could be traced back to a string of actions or reactions-natural, chemical, accidental or Man-made. And for every one of those actions or changes there was an equation, an algorithm or an identifiable process that could be traced, tracked, re-created or found through experimentation or observation. These were the parameters of truth in the universe, and they guided Zelda Snow more than anything else. Nothing was a mystery to her; at least, nothing she had seen or read about, so far.
This is not to say that Snow was an automaton, governed by a calculus of reality or rationality. She was a sensitive, funny and caring woman, as well. At home, she was not shackled by the irons of logic, not limited to boundaries of what was known or studied; in fact, she put logic on the shelf in order to journey through the labyrinths of her other love-fantasy reading. Along the cascading shelves of her vast library at home stood volumes of fantasy, science fiction, graphic and Manga comic books, and fiction thrillers. Perhaps even more than people, she loved mythical creatures like dragons, trolls, elves, dwarves, witches and warlocks.
She had read all the Harry Potter, Game of Thrones and Temeraire series more than once, but her all-time favorite was Tolkien’s The Lord of the Rings, and she showed it. Her smartphone’s ring tone was the Rings’ movie theme music; her dog was named “Bilbo”; and upon her left bicep was a tattoo of Tolkien’s Ring of Power, wrapped around her arm and blazing in red flame and gold. Within the band, the words ‘The One Ring’ glowed as if her skin itself was on fire. At home, away from life’s repugnant realities and the school’s never-ending faculty demands, she played fantasy and role-playing video games to unwind. It was a part of her makeup-in her blood-like her name. When she was 18 and a freshman at MIT, she officially changed her name from Josephine to Zelda, paying homage to her favorite Nintendo fantasy game heroine. Zelda Snow was no math geek despite how her colleagues at UCLA joked about her. She was the perfect example of sensitivity and substance, and adding those charms to her physical beauty and large mesmerizing eyes, it was difficult to argue otherwise.
Yet, at this point in her life, she too, found herself standing at the crossroads of reality and disbelief. She had studied Livancic’s data and saw the subject of that data, but she couldn’t wrap her head around the results of it all. The What does this prove?-factor had her stumped; and she hoped, as did her good friend, that Dr. Javier Flores and his patient could bring her the logic that she so craved.
Both Livancic and Snow broke out of their trances while gazing at the multitude of documents splayed out on the desk when a secretary stuck her head in the office.
“Dr. Livancic, your guests have arrived.”
“Thank you, Ina. We’ll be right out.” Both she and Snow eagerly went outside to the reception room to greet them.
* * *
I greeted Ivana with a warm embrace and a kiss on her cheek.
“Mmm. You smell wonderful,” I commented. “Is that Laura Bugatti?”
“Laura Biagiotti!” she laughed. “I’m impressed. You remembered my favorite perfume!”
“How could I forget?” I mused. “I met you while you wore that fragrance.” She hooked her arm in mine and swung me around.
“Javier, this is Dr. Zelda Snow.”
The first thing I noticed when I looked at the woman were her big, mesmerizing brown eyes. I offered my hand and she took it with a respectful smile.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Javier. I’ve heard much about you.”
“Oh really? Like what?” Snow demurred and glanced at Ivana.
“Don’t worry, Dr. Flores, it was all professional.” reassured Snow. “For now!” The women giggled at the joke, drawing out a big grin from myself. It was hard to pull my gaze away from Snow’s eyes; penetrating, full of intelligence, yet childlike as she gave me a quick, subtle look-over. A slight smile of approval pulled at the corner of her lips which Ivana seemed to notice, as well.
“And who is this handsome young man?” Ivana asked to refocus us. I spun to my own guest and wrapped my arm around his wide, round shoulders.
“Ladies, this is Doug Tuckman, but we know him as Doogie.” Both women smiled and shook hands with the cautious little man. The way he looked so dapper and shy made me imagine that I was presenting him to his first grade teachers.
“Doogie, you can call me Ivana.”
“I-I-I-I V-V-V ANA!” he bellowed happily.
“And I’m Zelda.”
“Z-Z-Z ZEL D-D-D DA!” Zelda walked up to him.
“So, you like space, stars and planets, Doogie?” I watched him nod excitedly, and soon they both struck up a small conversation in which Doogie was speaking in his original stuttering voice. In this small lapse of distraction, Ivana again hooked my arm in hers and we walked a few steps away.
“It’s good to see you again, Javier,” she said. “The last time was at the symposium in Monterey, I recall?” I nodded.
“About five months ago. Funny, I don’t remember you being so attractive then as you do now.” I beheld her as she blushed appreciatively, and for an instant, I thought she was feeling the same subtle tingle in her spine. It was sad to think that we have known each other all this time, yet we’ve never found a moment to look each other up since our last meeting, or give phone call, even a text. So, to look in her bright eyes after so long was rejuvenating. Her shoulder-length brown hair with reddish highlights, contrasted dramatically with Zelda’s long black tresses. Underneath her white lab coat, her red silk shirt clung nicely over firm breasts, tapering down a very flat stomach. Her dark pants were cut close, accentuating her slim hips, taut buttocks and long legs.
“You look great,” I breathed as I looked her over maybe a little too obviously. She blushed again, and stole an embarrassing glance at Zelda who was now looking at us, smiling.
“Well!” Ivana said quickly, waking me from my trance. “Shall we go to my office and discuss our strategy?” Both Zelda and I nodded our heads in unison. “As far as Doogie, he can wait in one of our patient activity rooms. I have one reserved just for him; there’s much that should amuse him there.”
“Doogie? Will you wait for us in another room? It won’t be long,” I asked.
“Y-Y-Y ES-SSS!” We took the elevator three floors up and walked down two long corridors to get to the patient activity wing, passing doctors,