Celebration

Tragicomedy in three acts.  Dedicated to Stanislaw Wyspianski.

Characters:
All characters are employees of a Government Science Foundation. In particular,

Cedric -  member of upper management
Rooster -  member of upper management
First Year Rotator -  temporary employee
Second Year Rotator -  temporary employee
Permie -  permanent employee
Alice -  bright child, a daughter of the First Year Rotator

There are also ghosts of:

Vannevar Bush - sage and visionary
Linus Pauling - Nobel winning chemist
Richard Feynman - Nobel winning physicist
Kurt Godel - famous mathematician

and lastly

Ghost of Unfunded Investigator

Setting:
In the background there is a big brightly lit conference room in a Government Science Foundation. End-of-year party is in full swing and people are milling around. The scene is the area just outside that room, with dimly lit corridor extending in both directions. Two chairs and a side table, where characters come out to sit, talk and smoke e-cigs,  complete the setup.

Act I

Scene 1 Did you affirm?

(First and Second Year Rotators walk in with wine glasses in hand. They turn on e-cigs and sit down.)

First Year Rotator (strikes a conversation apprehensively) : The system of keeping track of our time is a bit weird, don’t you think?

Second Year Rotator (nonchalantly): Oh, c’mon. You just stamp, stomp, save, affirm, approve, accept, validate, commit, vindicate, submit and voila - it is someone else's job after that!  Two weeks of work are properly encoded in the system.

First Year Rotator: Stomp and vindicate?!

Second Year Rotator (laughing): Just kidding. These are my own inventions, this is just to keep you mentally alert when you mouse around. However, many of us have stand up desks just so that they can stomp around when going gets tough.

First Year Rotator (as if awaken from a dream): Yeah, yeah  but isn’t looking at the work that was actually done more sensible?

Second Year Rotator (brushes it away with motherly concern): Sense? What kind of attitude is this? This is not kindergarten, you cannot do everything with a single mouse click!

(They gulp down their wine, pocket their vaporizers and head back to the party.)

Scene 2 Diversity

(Permie and First Year Rotator come out and turn on e-cigs. They settle down, take deep drags and produce  dense clouds of nicotine vapor.)

Permie (announces while staring fiercely into space): Today diversity is the final frontier of our work.

First Year Rotator (confused): Huh?

Permie (with authority and emphasis): There are whole areas of science scarred by tremendous levels of underrepresentation. Women, minorities, veterans - they are all missing in action!

First Year Rotator (with a flash of understanding): And the other guys finally got tired of it?

Permie (confused): What other guys?!

First Year Rotator: The ones that are overrepresented. They must be laboring hard and complaining about it a lot.

Permie (annoyed):  Nobody is complaining you dummy,  except for us. You must have missed some training.

First Year Rotator (grasping for understanding): Don’t you have to tackle overrepresentation simultaneously with underrepresentation.  Isn’t it a zero sum game?

Permie: No it isn’t! Arrgh! I cannot work in this environment. Go talk to Cedric.

(They get up and go back to the main room.)

Scene 3 Procedures

(Cedrick and Permie get out for a smoke. Cedric has a fancy looking atomizer with adjustable taste and nicotine settings. Clearly leadership position comes with an additional stress level.)

Cedric (thoughtfully): Why is it always assumed that the default settings are zero?

Permie (desperately trying to connect to an unforseable direction in which this conversation is going): Well, isn’t it the most common case?

Cedric: I am thinking of the form 1512. It has 16 fields where employees report travel expenses. Shouldn’t we request that they actually put zero if it is a zero?

Permie (a bit flabergasted): If there is nothing to report they leave it blank, don’t they?

Cedric (with grim satisfaction): Exactly.

Permie (uncomfortably): Hmmm.

Cedric (after a brief pause and very sweetly): It is a good idea to fill in those missing zeros and I am glad that it comes from you. I will announce it during our stand-up meeting tomorrow morning and there will be a decade worth of data to back-fill.

Permie (whispers): Ouch, my colleagues will thank me for this!

(First Year Rotator joins them and starts puffing anxiously on the latest nicotine delivery system.)

First Year Rotator (looking at Cedric): Do we have some policies addressing scientific overrepresentation?

(Cedrick and Permie jump up.)

Cedric (alarmed): Watch what you are talking about! What overrepresentation?

First Year Rotator (evidently lost): I dunno. Like all these foreigners. (his voice trails off)

(Cedric and Permie who are both foreign born look uneasy.)

Cedric (as if passing judgment): Listen, (he leans over trying to read First Year Rotators' nametag) there is a 48-hour course in our training academy covering such topics. Lets go back to this conversation after you complete it and pass all tests.

(First Year Rotator looks forlorn and goes back to the party.)

Cedric (muses): Training, training and more training.

Permie (looking alarmed): Perhaps we should join the crowd now.

(They retreat.)

Scene 4 Ghosts of the glorious past

(Second Year Rotator and Rooster come out of the main room. They get e-cigs going and check  dimly lit corridor.)

Second Year Rotator (struggling for a conversation topic in the presence of his supervisor and choosing poorly): Isn’t our organization not quite what it used to be?

Rooster (taken aback as this in a few short years will be his legacy): Do you have anything specific in mind?

Second Year Rotator (suddenly worried): No, nothing special. But were we not more involved in the past?

Rooster (irritated): Darn!  Cedric is keeping everybody so involved that any more of it and we will have a revolution here! (he calms down and continues) You know what?  It is the year’s end. Let’s invite the ghosts of past investigators and ask them these questions. It can’t be simpler than that.

(Both Rooster and Second Year Rotator stand up,  blow  wispy clouds of nicotine vapor and whisper into the dark corridor)

Rooster and Second Year Rotator: Come out, come out wherever you are! Funded or declined, live or dead - the Foundation is calling you!

(They head back as faint echo bounces off the walls. Just when they disappear inside, the lights flicker strangely.)

Act II

Scene 1 Gatekeeper

(Nine-year old Alice who attends the party with her parent comes out of the room. She is bored and she tries unsuccessfully to remove the  wrapping from a nicotine patch  and  apply it to her knee.
Suddenly there is a motion in the corridor and four ghosts come into view.)

Alice (firmly): Who are you ugly things?

Ghosts (somehow stumped and not used to deal with the living): We were invited by the management.

Alice (laughing): Sure you were. Must be friends of the DJ.

Ghosts: DJ?? We are ghosts of past glory on a friendly mission.

Alice (dead serious): Identify yourself!

First Ghost (with dignity) In my former life I was called Vannevar Bush, and these are ghosts of Richard Feynman, Kurt Godel and Linus Pauling.

Alice (firmly): Those names mean nothing to me.

Feynman's ghost (oozing ectoplasm profusely and clearly recognizing  the communication problem): What about your credentials? Show us your badge!

Alice (cool and composed): I can see through you Mister. You don’t have a body. Go away!

(Godel's ghost is visibly upset and mutters something in German, Pauling's ghost pops vitamin C like it is going to make a difference. It is a clear impasse.)

Scene 2 Famous and less famous

(At this moment Rooster and Cedric come out of the main room sucking on their e-cigs and they notice waiting ghosts.)

Cedric: Don’t we have procedures here? I do not want some untrained personnel intercept our visitors.  (he glares at Alice)

(There is a flash of recognition on his face as he sees Pauling and Feynmann’s ghosts.)

Cedric (respectfully): Dr. Pauling and Dr. Feynman, so to speak. How glad to see that you have made it here.

Rooster (hesitantly): I have summoned them. These are the ghosts of our past glory.

Cedric (with a hint of sarcasm): Funny, I do not recognize the other two.

Rooster: The bigger one is the founder of our organization and the other one is some mathematician (he also displays hesitation concerning the ghosts of lesser people.)

Cedric (darkly): Welcome,  welcome. But if you are the ghosts of past glory I am going to check on your past annual reports. They better be in order.

(all ghosts start pulsating nervously as the past glory involved greatly relaxed reporting rules.)

Scene 3 Chit chat with ghosts

Pauling’s ghost (with emphasis): No need for hostilities. We bear gifts of peace and future glory.

Cedric (with suspicion): What makes you think we need any help?

(He glances at Godel’s ghost who wears a t-shirt emblazoned with logo “Jersey  roots, global reach” and who glares at Cedric accusingly.)

Cedric (murmurs to himself): I do not like these Princeton snobs.

Feynman's ghost: Oh c’mon. We read the news. You can do better, much better in fact.

Rooster (asserting authorithy): Cedric! Lighten up, I think we got something good here.

Cedric (snaps back): This is all quite irregular. If Congress gets wind of it we will all be in trouble. Consorting with ghosts is no better than watching pornography.

Rooster (bows his head towards the ghosts): This is a birthplace of ideas and you are like four kings bearing gifts. We welcome you.

(He gestures toward the main  room but ghosts hate well lit spaces and they do not budge.)

Cedric (clearly annoyed by the religious innuendo): Pst, pst!

Rooster (excitedly): Oh please, do tell us what are you bringing.

Scene 4 The gift

Vannevar Bushs’ ghost (as he reaches somewhere below his waistline): It is a five and quarter inch dick, disk I mean (he becomes ghostly white from embarrassment), containing a document. This document is a rallying cry for the scientific community, a challenge, a vision, and a budget driver, (he runs out of breath) something that you call a solicitation.

(he presents an ectoplasm dripping disk to Rooster).

Cedric (bored): Solicitation? We have just a million of those.

Rooster (is getting more annoyed with Cedric.  He accepts the disk with some apprehension and continues with reverence): An old technology, but please, do tell more.

Godel’s ghost (barely comprehensibly): Do you know how schwer it ist fur a poltergeist to schreiben on eine diskette?

Vannevar Bushs’ ghost (with pride): This is not just a solicitation. This is a mother of all solicitations!  It will light a fire under your universities, raise the mood of your scientists, call the best minds from afar and bring rational thought back into the fold. We will ride the wave again! (he roars) We will ride the wave again!
(Godel and Pauling’s ghosts try to join in while Feynman’s ghost is giving high fives all around. One wonders what they think about the current line-up of programs at Government Science Foundation)

Rooster (who quite badly needs something to assert himself in the organization is clearly excited): Can it be? This sounds like an answer to our prayers.

(Cedric is deeply in thoughts and looks worried)

Cedric (with more than a hint of doubt): There are no compliance issues I hope.

(Ghosts look a bit puzzled but Feynman’s ghost reads the situation correctly.)

Feynman’s ghost (with a twinkle in his eye): No Sir, none whatsoever!

(Afterwards all ghosts disappear,  Cedric and Rooster stand in the middle staring at the disk.)

Act III

(Everybody gets out and all look at Rooster and Cedric. The batteries in their e-cigs are completely discharged and  nobody is smoking anymore.  For a brief moment their nicotine-free minds are in direct contact with reality. Everybody feels like this is history in the making although only Rooster, Cedric and Alice know what has actually happened.)

Scene 1 Plans

Permie (excitedly) What just happened? Alice is talking about some ghosts?

First Year Rotator: Ghosts?

Second Year Rotator (semi-seriously): Stranger things happened here ... we had mice once.

Rooster (solemnly and raising the floppy up in the air): This is a gift from our past heroes. A new solicitation, and it is the mother of all solicitations! (obviously there is not much more to say at this point and he also chokes from excitement.)

First Year Rotator: Wow! this is great, lets get it rolling.

(Second Year Rotator pulls out his laptop and starts fumbling with his 50-character password. There is a palpable spark of excitement.)

Cedric (decisively): Slow down, slow down my friends! We have procedures, chain of command (he takes the floppy from Rooster who stands frozen). Let me put it in the system and then we will discuss it some more. But you stay here and wait for the sign. Look at the big monitor, solicitation will first show up there.   (He wanders off to his office.)

Permie: Lets talk about the options. We really do not know what it is all about.

Rooster: No, we should wait for the sign. Wait for the sign (he repeats sternly), don’t be so hasty.

First Year Rotator (as always inquisitive): Who said to wait for the sign, ghosts or Cedric?

(Nobody remembers and they quarrel, Rooster says that these were ghosts but others point to Cedric).

Permie (with resignation): Ok, lets wait.

(all but Alice plug in their vaporizers into the usb ports in their laptops. Emotions settle as they commit  to waiting.)

Scene 2 Disaster

(The clock on the wall jumps ahead by a few hours. The sun will rise soon. Cedric returns with a worried look on his face. A cloud of nicotine vapor trails behind him.)

Cedric (reports hastily): I found an old computer and opened the file. The fonts were all too small and there were millions of compliance issues. Surely you were joking Mr Feynman (he adds sarcastically remembering Feynman’s ghost promises of quality.)
I did not bother to read it but tried to make the most pressing corrections so that it can pass administrative review. You would not believe it but I guess that these ghosts have never read the Grant Proposal Manual, even the oldest edition (he is clearly shocked by this).

Permie (interrupting) Did you save a copy of the file?

Cedric (exasperated): Well, the system was very suspicious of it and it refused to save it.

Second Year Rotator (greatly agitated): Did you e-mail it to yourself?

Cedric (annoyed): I tried but Outlook did not like the file.

First Year Rotator: Did you put it in Dropbox?

Cedric (with finality): Don’t you know that Dropbox in not legal in our organization? Have you heard of North Korea?!

Rooster (trying to calm everybody down): Ok, ok, lets read the floppy again.

Cedric (whispering): Well, that is the problem.

Alice (very loudly): Sir, sir, we can’t hear you!

Cedric (repeats louder): Well, that is the problem. I do not have the floppy anymore. I seem to have lost it. (he says it in an oddly disarming way.)

Scene 3 Aftermath

(There is a faint beep of e-cigs indicating full charge and everybody starts smoking again. The night is nearly over and the mood lifts slightly as clouds of nicotine vapor fill the air. There is a feeling that something odd has just happened, but nobody quite knows what it was, and the reality takes over and slowly pushes it aside.)

(Alice is the first to notice some movement down the corridor.)

Alice (firmly): Who are you?

(Ghost of Unfunded Investigator emerges from darkness. All the declinations gave him rhinoceros’ skin and he has multiple scars from reviewers’ insults.  He barrels forward unfazed.)

Ghost of Unfunded Investigator (in a deep booming voice): I am the Ghost of Unfunded Investigator. I appear to those whose projects have been declined. It is hard work these days (he adds it as if he was blaming somebody in the present company).

First Year Rotator: Why are you so angry?

Ghost of Unfunded Investigator (incredulous): Who do you think I am? Mickey Mouse?! I am permanently pissed! I represent people who are responsible for 90% of the scientific progress and who get abused at every turn of their career.

(First and Second Year Rotators get quiet and thoughtful while Permie looks like he has heard it many times already)

Cedric (annoyed): Listen buddy, in any case you are in the wrong place, we do not apply for grants ourselves.

Ghost of Unfunded Investigator (with an air of finality and laughing devilishly): You are wrong, you are so wrong! Life is a one big funding competition. And you know what?  you did not make the cut! You just blew it (he howls unpleasantly).

Permie (with concern and agitation): What will happen to us?

First Year Rotator (stunned): I just started here. I did not even finish my training.

Second year Rotator (with anxiety): Are we being punished?

Rooster (with regret): I should have been more assertive.

Ghost of Unfunded Investigator (as if talking to children): Stop whining! Nothing will happen to you. I am here to help you to forget  and to heal.

Rooster (surprised): Really? Thank you very much!

(There is a moment of eerie silence and everybody watches as the Ghost of Unfunded Investigator pulls out a small keyboard and starts playing a simple tune. People begin dancing and swaying back and forth with the rhythm as if hypnotized.)

Ghost of Unfunded Investigator (playing and singing, see here for the studio recording):

Oh where, oh where did my floppy disk go,
what is wrong, what is wrong with my data flow,
data is polluted, floppy got deleted,
we will now lay low, lay low
we will now lay low, lay low.

(this repeats endlessly, each time fainter and with some echo)

(The music is soothing and the lights in the corridor turn on. Everybody slowly sleepwalks to their offices as the new day begins.)

Eastward or Westward?

“Off with his head!” barks the presiding judge pointing at the defendant Antonio Pigafetta, chronicler and navigator of the first circumnavigation of the world by Ferdinand Magellan. He is one of the eighteen  survivors of the original crew of 270 that embarked three years earlier on the record-breaking journey. “You were sloppy in your duties and your log at the end of the voyage is off by one day.” “Where did you loose this day!” he roars, and Pigafetta lowers his gaze in defeat as indeed one day is missing from the ship’s log.

“Excuse me your Excellency,” a confident voice from the audience reaches across the aisles, “there is a simple mathematical explanation.” Young  men who just uttered these word steps out of the shadows and continues. "Captain Magellan was sailing as if chasing the Sun setting in the West,” he says, “and each of his days was imperceptibly longer because of that”. “In the end, when Your Excellency have seen that many times the Sun setting over the western horizon, upon coming back Pigaffetta recorded one less such event on the account of following the Sun all the way around the globe.”  “Voila!,” he concludes gallantly to the stunned court.

When a mundane event of garroting an incompetent navigator evolves into the discussion of planetary motions it does not go unnoticed. The demonstration of   mathematical thinking that occurred that day lit a fuse that little over a hundred years later led to the creation of the Royal Society and the explosion of creativity in mathematics and physics that followed.

The phenomenon explained to the court had power to surprise nearly 350 years later when Mr. Fileas Fogg, a disciplined man of supreme self confidence, made a wager that he will rely on public transportation and travel around the world in 80 days. The choice of eastward direction shortened his days and upon the completion of his journey gave him, as if by a miracle, an extra day which won his bet and turned his life around in the process.

These days mathematics may be in retreat and shrouded in the fog of incomprehensibility but the phenomenon of gaining or loosing a day when one travels around the globe can still inspire.

For those travelers who embark on a journey around the globe  we have the following recommendations:

If you are sad, depressed and feeling as if you are constantly falling behind, we suggest westward direction. The lost day will provide a burial ground for  your failures where you think  that the success was just behind the corner. Rather than beating yourself you will blame Nature for stealing this one day that could have made the difference. You may finally realize that rather that than running blindly ahead all you need to do is to stop.

On the other hand, if you feel powerful and omnipotent, full of ideas and confident, then travel eastward. A gift of an extra day  will be yet another opportunity to do something nice or important, climb another mountain or prove a theorem. An extra day will fuel your sense of well being and propel you forward for even more conquests and adventures.

Sadly, mathematics offers less to those going North or South and we have only one advice: dress warmly.

The end is near

This is a continuation of my uncle's diaries which started here. The last installment was here.
--------------------------------

The news is out - victory is at hand. Capitalist pigs are on their last legs and up against the wall, and our verking environment is better than ever. It is really a great moment to celebrate and comrades were overheard singing this song. However, our Party is wary of this. Every victory carries germs of a future defeat and comrades ought to be insulated against it. There are several ingenious ways in which the Party helps us to mature and reach a higher alert level.

More with less

Yes, we may be winning but nothing squashes the celebratory mood like throttling resources. The Command Center was put in charge of the process and they cut the Botany Unit by a whole 10%. However, quite generously they let us choose what to eliminate. Comrades are spending countless hours sipping borscht and mulling over the options.
The obvious idea is to shut down a couple of Farming Outposts. The Botany Unit runs eight of them and suddenly it feels like a lot. Botany and farmers existed for thousands of years but Farming Outposts are a novelty that is only several decades old. Quite frankly that is the only thing in botany that would not have happened if not for the Ministry of Everything and that is a reason for considerable pride.
In the old days farmers were working in solitude and misery. Our Farming Outposts gave them an opportunity to mingle, kick back and talk things over. After shaking off initial suspicion the farming community embraced the concept and now they cling to Farming Outposts like barnacles.  Every Farming Outpost has some fanatics that will swear that it is the best thing on the planet. The Party has  a more somber view of these facilities and certainly some of them could freshen up. A Central Committee member commented a while ago that "The comrades running the Corn Outpost are very complementary about themselves; indeed, I wonder that they are not in a hospital somewhere: wrenched arms from incessantly patting themselves on the back.”  Others are complaining about the Underground Farming Outpost - whatever these comrades are doing does not amount to much and it costs a lot. "Have they ever grown anything?" Party members ask with anxiety.  Lastly,  the Potato Farming Outpost is hovering on the brink of irrelevance because nobody seems to care about it except for a few senior comrades who remember it from better times.
It is a tough time and we do our best sowing fear and panic in the farming community in case the Party decides to deal with the wreckers harshly!

Compulsive and unnecessary?

Marx and Engels stated in the Communist Manifesto that the “...bourgeoisie ... rescued a considerable part of the population from the idiocy of rural life.” While these words do not cast a shadow over the field of botany directly, the comrades in the Botany Unit were always saddened by the fact that they were on the sidelines of the class struggle and revolution. In the quest for more appreciation and involvement,  and in line with the founding fathers' view of rural life, the  Botany Unit took initiatives that led the botany-trained farmers towards loftier goals that do not involve growing any plants, but rather, processing them. Many comrades worry about it a great deal - someone has to grow the damn stuff after all!
As if this was not enough, the carnivores running the Command Center seem to know something about the farming community that can be exploited for their purposes. Most of its members are phenomenally compulsive; they will do their job anyway, and do it for nothing!  If there is anybody that can absorb austerity and cuts with a shrug it is the beloved farmers supported by the Botany Unit. Who needs the enemies with friends like that!

iTrick

The other way in which the Party tries to wipe the self-congratulatory smiles from our faces involves the newest technology and it is called iTrick.  To be allowed to use iTrick takes a considerable amount of training, and it is quite surprising what one gets in return.

Countless studies showed that comrades who at any given time know what they should be doing, how to go about it and what they have done in the recent past have a high level of personal satisfaction and significant degree of comfort and security. iTrick is a product of a lot of research that aims at shaking these foundations. It is not easy to describe what iTrick is, particularly given that so few are allowed near it. In a nutshell, it is a new way of handling information which is compatible with the rest of the Party units. It utilizes homing pigeons rather than runners and these unruly birds are a part of  the issue. Comrades huddling under the umbrella of iTrick are reportedly shrouded in a dense fog of uncertainty regarding their environment and they are  profoundly disoriented. iTrick originated with detailed studies of how to make workflow faster and more accurate, and how to increase the amount of available information and put it at the fingertips of rank-and-file comrades. The Ministry of Everything and the iTrick designing team came up with a long list of the most desirable features and worked hard to make sure that the final product missed most of them. iTrick makes a walk in the park resemble the siege of Leningrad but the Botany Unit welcomes this new challenge. As always, the Party knows how to keep the fighting spirit up!

Government Kitchen

Tom Sietsema is my favorite Washington Post food critic. In this posting
he describes a few restaurants that did not make the “Top Ten” pantheon this year.
Inspired by his writing I ventured to the Government Kitchen - my favorite dining location and a five-star destination. Together with my companion we headed there for a meal  to reaffirm our long standing commitment to this establishment.  Yet the experience left us puzzled and wondering whether the Government Kitchen still belongs to the “Top Ten”.
Here is how it went….

One thing about the Government Kitchen - the place is not graced with great looks or good ambiance.  This is not where you go for a romantic dinner but rather to spread your wings and to broaden your experience. However, the rumors have it that the Government Kitchen is relocating to a new building.  Could it be the change that will raise the dining experience to a new level? Unfortunately not, as this is the last of the designers concerns. Titanium bars will keep the hoi polloi out, reinforced glass will provide protection from explosives and armed guards will be performing full cavity searches if their suspicion is even slightly aroused. Perhaps not as stimulating environment for a diner as one would hope for. For that reason we are planning our visit before the move to see the Government Kitchen naked, vulnerable and taunting her enemies with an underground garage that  is still open to the public!

But let us concentrate on the  meal. Government Kitchen has a lot to offer but on this occasion we settle for a five-course prix fixe meal on the 10-th floor. It is a pricey affair, about 1.3 billion dollars, with about  a third of it being a mandatory tip for the administrative staff.

These days the Government Kitchen gives a lot of attention to the  local ingredients and domestic personnel and we are full of expectations. The first course is Physics and of course Higgs boson is the most anticipated ingredient. We poke in our plates but there is no sign of Higgs. Finally, a staffer with a German  accent explains that Higgs is a foreign ingredient and she offers Higgs infused oil as a closest approximation. A great disappointment, as on our recent trip to Europe we noticed poached Higgs, marinated Higgs, and Higgs dried and stuffed with neutrinos being available even in roadside inns.

The next course is Astronomy. It is an interesting interlude as the serving includes only one very expensive ingredient being farmed in northern Chile. In the end it might be pretty  tasty but at the moment it is still not quite ripe and our server assures us that it needs at least a decade to fully develop. For that reason the dish feels stringy and rather bland, clearly missing companion pieces that would make it whole. Yet most possibilities  for these companion pieces were sacrificed to bring up the main dish and the menu includes a long list of items that  will not be  served anymore in this century.  Thus we are gnawing dutifully on the Astronomy offering trying to imagine it in full glory while residual  sand  from Chilean desert grinds between our teeth.

The next two courses are  Chemistry and Materials. This is supposed to be the pinnacle of our meal, partly because nearly all chefs are chemists. They all come out and sing us “Happy Birthday” to erase less than the perfect impression of the first two courses.  All is well until the dishes show up and what a surprise! They are nearly identical - same spices, same ingredients and the same chefs as it turns out. Ouch! It looks like Chemistry and Materials are just ploys to charge for a five course tasting menu while providing only four  courses.  The food is acceptable but lacks novelty and a grand vision. And did I sense a microwave oven being used to infuse heat into our meal? Is that possible?
The backbone of the dish is a set of rather stale solicitations spiced with diversity and broadening participation agenda.  Definitely not enough for a Michelin star!

For desert we get Mathematics. From the distance it looks attractive but upon closer examination the ingredients  are not particularly fresh and many are past their prime. Desert is a piece that ties the meal together and brings you back for more but this is where the Government Kitchen decided to "go on the cheap" and it is a disappointment. The taste of desert is determined not  by what is  in it but more so by what it is missing - an interesting idea but perhaps not one to be adopted by a pastry chef. A staffer explains politely that Mathematics absorbed a brunt of sacrifices to make the remaining courses better, and helpfully comments that mathematical ingredients have the longest shell life  and some actually never go bad. "But many of our customers do not last till desert," he adds sadly "and so this is where we decided to economize.” His apron emblazoned with names of chemical elements is a clear statement of where his sympathies are.

We pay about fifth of our  budget for this meal and wonder whether it was really worth it. Top chefs are leaving the Government Kitchen in droves and formulaic and tired cooking takes hold of a place where discoveries used to begin. Just when we finished mourning an opportunity for a great dessert that could have saved the meal and redeemed what was overall a pretty shaky experience we are struck by a realization of a colossal lacunae that makes all of the above faults feel like minor imperfections.  What the hell happened to the wine pairings?!?!?

This is not a joke

Declining budgets, dwindling levels of support and nostalgia for the
past glory - this is the new reality facing  government funding agencies.
So after getting most out of the interdisciplinary research, some agencies
embraced broadening participation as a new way to quicken the pace of
discovery. By accepting projects originating from outside the dusty
halls of academia and dramatically enlarging the reviewing community
we opened up to the collective wisdom of the entire humanity.

The panel

The scenery is simple: windowless and overheated room harboring a
proposal evaluation panel in the Government Science Agency.
The Program Commander  introduces the next proposal under review. It
is titled “Roundhouse kick and  the Riemann Hypothesis” and the Principal
Investigator is Chuck Norris. There is a palpable sense of excitement
among the panelists as the Program Commander guides the panel through
carefully selected questions.
"What are the mathematical credentials of the Principal Investigator?” he
begins in a voice that carries a hint of doubt.
The panelists are taken aback and rally for their hero.
"Chuck Norris counted to infinity - twice” is the first response.
"Chuck Norris can divide by zero” adds another, while the third says with grim satisfaction
"Chuck Norris can win a game of Connect Four in only three moves.”
Lastly someone says "Chuck Norris knows the last digit of pi.”

Pretty strong pushback! The Program Commander takes another tack
"How about his track record?” This is another tricky question but the
panel is ready.
"When Alexander Bell invented the telephone he had three missed calls from Chuck Norris” comes an instant riposte.
"Chuck Norris has already been to Mars; that’s why there are no signs
of life,” one hears from the back of the room.
"Chuck Norris destroyed the periodic table, because Chuck Norris only
recognizes the element of surprise” another voice cuts through the noise.

Reviewers make good points but this is not quite relevant so the Program
Commander zeroes in on details.
“How about his publications?” he asks implying a potential weakness.
The response is stunning.
"Chuck Norris doesn't actually write books, the words assemble themselves out of fear.”
Program Commander does not know what to make of it, so he blindly plows through with
"Ok,  and what about his scholarly activities?”
"Chuck Norris doesn't read books. He stares them down until he gets
the information he wants,”  one of the reviewers points out helpfully.

The picture that emerges is pretty awesome and the Program Commander
starts getting infected with the panel’s enthusiasm.
“Do you think that the Principal Investigator has what it takes to
resolve the Riemann Hypothesis?” he asks with barely masked excitement.
"Some magicans can walk on water, Chuck Norris can swim through land.”
Powerful imagery lingers in the air  while another reviewer adds
"In the Bible, Jesus turned water into wine. But then Chuck Norris turned that wine into beer.“

“Holy cow!” exclaims Program Commander unable to hold his emotions any
longer.  The atmosphere relaxes and someone jokes
"Chuck Norris doesn't churn butter. He roundhouse kicks the cows and
the butter comes straight out.”

It is time to wrap it up.
"Do you feel that the Principal Investigator can commit enough time
for this project?” is the last question.
"Chuck Norris does not sleep. He waits,” is an answer that closes the
discussion.

Interlude in the Command Center

Somehow the Command Center gets the wind of the Chuck Norris' proposal
and this spells trouble. Command Center is a bureaucratic body whose sole
interest is in enforcement of various procedures which they generate
with insatiable enthusiasm. They start rooting in the project and
invariably find some problems. First of all  the project is submitted
to the Group Discovery Program which requires a group of three not a
single person. Secondly, they detect a hint of plagiarism. Indeed, one
of the statements in the  proposal is

In mathematics, the Riemann hypothesis, the idea that the Geo Riemann
(1859), and the siege of the nontrivial Riemann zeta not all the
heritage half.

This appears to be the  Google-translation of the the first sentence
of Wikipedia entry on the Riemann Hypothesis.   First into Maori, then to
Afrikaans, and then back into English.

Command Center will not have it. Return without Review is their stern
recommendation.

Panel debriefing in the Mathematics Unit

Program Commanders sit around the large table discussing their
options. Return without Review is a slap in the face and one of the
most obnoxious forms of interaction with the scientific community.
As if this is not enough, in the morning everybody in the Mathematics Unit
received an e-mail from Chuck Norris containing a picture of his
shoe. It is a bit puzzling until someone explains:
"What was going through the minds of all of Chuck Norris' victims
before they died? His shoe.”

As true scientists the Program Commanders focus on mathematics. "How
do you think he is going to solve the Riemann Hypothesis?" someone asks.
"Chuck Norris doesn't flush the toilet, he scares the shit out of it,”
one of the Program Commanders responds. Zeta function
is helpless against Chuck Norris' powers! It must surrender a rogue
zero, or pledge that there aren't any. Even "Death once had a
near-Chuck Norris experience.”
This project is certain to succeed notes another
Program Commander.  "If at first you don't succeed, you're not Chuck
Norris.”  Others agree. "Chuck Norris eats lightning and shits out thunder.”

 Mathematics is full of objects unwilling to reveal their crucial
 properties and relations. For centuries mathematicians gently coaxed
 these secrets out of them and as a result were steadily falling
 behind the societal expectations. It is time for a change!   Chuck
 Norris and his signature roundhouse kick is the new way to get things
 done!

There is more to say and discuss but it is clear what needs to be done. Program Commanders decide to defy the Command Center and fully unleash Chuck Norris - the most powerful tool of modern mathematics.

History of a certain idea

Hello, let me introduce myself - I am an idea. I am one of many, very
many in fact. The world of ideas dwells on complexity and abstraction
and is far more complicated than the physical world. Every idea needs
a live host to thrive and I am looking for a human host. Most of the
inhabitants of the world of ideas are strange and aloof and not
suitable to be hosted by humans.

In good old days the world of ideas was much bigger, there were ideas
about  ideas, ideas not agreeing with themselves and much more. It all
came crushing down when the idea of all ideas not agreeing with
themselves came along and got stuck wondering about itself. This is
when the Management of Ideas was created and since then only the
simple ideas - ones speaking about physical world - are allowed.

Some think that life of an idea is simple: we get a host, reveal
ourselves and if all goes well we get implemented. Nothing is further
from reality! Most ideas get rejected outright while some get nibbled
by the host’s mind and stay in limbo neither rejected nor
implemented. Eventually the Management of Ideas yanks them back after
some default time interval. In the end, the implementation rate is
pretty low and this leads to fair amount of bitterness. In fact some
radical ideas petition for the change of the host species but this is
just margins. The fact remains that for ideas like me, humans are the
only game in town, and implementation is the only chance for
fulfillment.

As we glean into the physical world, there is growing feeling among
ideas that some of us should be implemented and the sooner the
better. Unfortunately, the Management of Ideas operates mostly in the
crisis mode and there is not much strategic thinking on how to
gradually improve the quality of the host species, that is humans, and
ramp up the implementation rates.

Most complaints within the community of ideas center on the host
selection and quality.
First of all, the host selection. It is random and for that reason
most ideas are not implemented. Still, defenders bring curious
examples indicating that putting all ideas in minds of only 1% of
humans could be unwise.
At the International Congress of Mathematicians that just ended in
Korea, one of the plenary talks was given by a textile company manager
who became a host for an idea for a solution of a particularly
daunting mathematical problem, quit his job and got a university
appointment instead. Quite a story I would say!
Even more bizarre event happened just a year ago. A three year old
girl became a host for an idea of a thermonuclear reactor known as
tokamak. The girl, intelligent and willing, implemented successfully,
but lacking the ability to write or describe technical details,
decided to convey the key ingredient, the shape of the device, via a
convoluted dance with an appropriate music background. The resulting
youtube video went viral but the connection to tokamak was quite
obfuscated. Nevertheless it has launched her career, unfortunately not
as a nuclear scientist but as a video performer and her subsequent
films while widely successful and commercially profitable were
unrelated to science.

The main problem though, is that the random host selection is at odds
with practices of most funding agencies.  They  favor bald men
over women with high-pitched voice by a hundred to one ratio in spite of
both groups being roughly of the same size. And of course under no
circumstances they would support toddlers.

My second complaint is the quality. Most ideas are not stupid and they
can tell bad ideas from good ideas. The Idea Management has a different
view and they feel that it is up to the host to tell these two
apart. Easier said than done! All large organizations: military,
political, religious and governmental are just magnets for bad
ideas. They all have high ranking members with stunningly low idea
implementation records. One bad idea may take such entire  mind by
storm and if the host has high enough decision making capacity it is a
disaster in the making. It is enough to look at the history of the last century
to see this dangerous pattern.

And finally, the timing. Ideas live forever, but their utility changes
greatly. I have seen a great idea of building a fire from a single
piece of wet wood and a concoction of human waste products. It would
make a killing 10,000 years ago and be implemented hundred-fold but
today no human wants it even for a party trick because harvesting of
the necessary components is kind of embarrassing.

But enough of this whining! I got my host selected, I am jumping him
tomorrow, reveal myself in the mandated time window of 24 hours, and
hopefully implement. My host is some mathematician with initials TT
and I am a mathematical idea so for once it looks like all stars are
aligned.
You can’t imagine how happy I am! Getting a host is a really big day
in a life of an idea. I think of it as bar mitzvah but friendly ideas
indicate that many compromises lie ahead so it is more like
bris. Whatever, bite me, I am soooo excited!

On the day of my appointment I materialize at a large conference where
my host is an invited speaker and I perch on the doorframe like some
bloodthirsty tick waiting to pounce. Not a pleasant metaphor, but that
what host jumping really is. When TT is passing by I lunge
desperately aiming right between his eyes and smoothly enter his
mind.

Holy cow! This is like some frigging Iwo Jima! The place is just
packed with ideas, hostile and angry as hell and fighting for
priority. I can’t imagine how the guy is even able to
function!
I have a narrow window to implement myself and it looks
truly awful. I look around and see a bunch of really great ideas, some
of them already on the second and third implementation extension (and
these are not easy to get, mind you). I hide behind medulla oblongata
and plan my next move. The competition is formidable but perhaps there
is some chink in their armor.  Indeed, the Idea Management has its own
Freedom of Information Act that requires that ideas announce their
implementation schedule. I check it out and I see the light in the
tunnel. Seven ideas plans to reveal themselves during TT's making out session with his wife. Ha, ha, as this is going to end well! The the next thirty plan to unveil while TT is in the shower. Gimme a break, what a bunch of losers.

I look deeper and I notice a reason why TT does not show much strain
of what is going on in his mind. The respite comes from the fact that
curiously about third of the ideas that TT is hosting concern Candy
Crush. Clearly TT  thinks that Candy Crush is a game of skill rather
than dumb luck and I decide to time my unveiling at the moment
when he completes level 350, one of the hardest in the game. His mind
will be buoyed by this success and swimming in adrenaline and
seratonin. I am more or less committed, but still wonder about the
soundtrack. Most ideas prefer to have a good music when they reveal
themselves. The choices range from total cliches like opening passages
of Beethoven’s Fifth to more risky ones like “I want to fuck you like
an animal” by Nine Inch Nails  (which reportedly aided the
implementation of the idea for Crispy Creme franchise.) I settle for a
total silence, it should be great after listening to Candy Crush music
for hours.

Twenty three hours later TT conquers level 350 after a marathon
session and having spent a fortune on extra lives. He is flummoxed why
his superior knowledge of just about any branch of mathematics is of
no help in this effort but when the total silence engulfs everything I
feel his great mind gently nibbling on me. It tickles a lot and I try to
stay still as suddenly with great “harrumph” he swallows me whole and
I am set in stone for eternity. As I dissolve into nothingness I hear
angelic voices singing Implementation! Implementation! (to the tune of
Handel's Messiah) and golden letters spelling  “Partially supported by
the NSF” float into view and provide the ultimate imprimatur of
excellence.

Organ concert

Communication is the essence of life.  Unfortunately, most of it is so specialized that it comes across as something akin to white noise.  So when mathematicians finally translated language of the body it was just another brick in the pyramid of knowledge. What came as a shock was not that such “body language” exists but what is being said and for what purpose.  The first transcripts obtained just before  the International Congress of Mathematicians 2014 commenced in Seoul reveal insidious and conniving nature of these communications.

In a Korean restaurant

"What is going on? Why is He shoving it all in?” says Stomach with  agitation, "It is 3 in the morning…”
Eyes perk up, "Yep,  looks like a Korean dinner.” “Korean?” yells Left Knee, “It does not make any sense!”
"Quiet, Organs! It is a Korean restaurant because we are in Korea. Sorry for keeping you in the dark. This has been in the works for weeks,” says Brain sternly.
"Bloody travel budget. They should have  zeroed it long ago. I am not a spring chicken anymore” moans  Heart,  Brain’s confidante.
Stomach starts moaning loudly, “I can’t take it anymore. This is clearly beyond the scope of my responsibilities.” He starts contracting slightly and yells “Pancreas, Pancreas, what about you?”
Pancreas stirs as if from a deep sleep, "Mamma mia! I am still in a different time zone. Do not count on me. Can someone do something?”
"I can give Him diarrhea… That will slow Him down a bit,” answers Lower Intestine resolutely, but the Right Knee starts hollering immediately "I beg you not to. If he has to run to the john, I swear I'm gonna buckle. It was a 16 hour flight and I am so sore.”
“And it looks like a welcoming reception, diarrhea would not be cool” add Eyes, “He is here in official capacity.”
“Ok, ok,” says Lower Intestine, the most goofy organ, “just passing through then.”
“Me too, me too,” yells Left Kidney, “If He starts boozing it up I am quitting."
All of the Organs are jumpy and agitated and then Penis decides to throw a log onto the fire. “I want to get out,” he says “for a massage with a happy ending,” he concludes with his usual blunt and selfish attitude.
“Shut up, you idiot”  all the Organs yell, "you're gonna get us in real trouble."  “We will end up in North Korea,” panics Left Buttocks, who is longing not to sit anymore.
Brain finally loses patience. “Why do I have to work with such a bunch of losers?” “Can’t you just do your job and be quiet?”
All Organs cower and try to rest.

Taxation

Later that night Brain holds a whispered conversation with Heart on the side and a decision is made. An all-Organs meeting is planned for the morning. With the first rays of sun on the horizon, and still a bit spacy from the change of environment, the Organs do a mandatory roll call trying not to wake Him up.

 “Listen up, Organs!”  starts  Brain “I know that the last few years were tough, and the resource supply was flat.” Brain pauses thoughtfully and continues, “Together with Heart we came up with a new scheme for dividing crucial resources - oxygen and blood.” Organs sit quiet as mice under a broom while Brain continues, “each of you will get 90% of your allotment, and the rest will depend on your involvement with extra projects and initiatives.”
“Like what?” says Left Knee “should I shave and try to look pretty?” Organs are chuckling and there is a bit less tension in the body. “Well,” says Right Kidney, “together with Pancreas we can make Him piss green. Would that qualify for my missing 10%?”
“I can make Him piss red anytime,” says Liver sarcastically.
“Shut up, Liver” barks Brain “I've had enough of this nonsense.”
“The idea is to be collaborative and multidisciplinary,” explains Heart, “and not to freak Him out by messing up the color of his  pee.”  “We work for Him, but He is working for a higher purpose.”
“They would not send Him that far otherwise,” he makes an educated guess, "and they are bankrolling all this food that He is tormenting us with,”  Heart continues like a good bureaucrat.
“I sort of like kimchi,” grumbles Stomach. “And I love bi bim bop” adds Throat.
“Oh, be quiet” yells Brain.
Organs are stirring restlessly, “is there anything in particular that you guys have in mind?” they venture collectively.
“Plenty,” says Brain, “you name it - climate change, internet security, clean energy.”
“I am clean energy,” exclaims Penis.
“Shut up!” yell Organs. “Try some regular diet instead of testosterone,” Brain adds.
“Nobody can do a better job at what I do,” says the Left Kidney, the bravest of all Organs, “not even Right Kidney, but I am not sure about climate or internet security. Isn’t He supposed to worry about it?”
“I am glad you said that,” Brain is on the verge of his usual lecture, “are you all familiar with the term 'vertical integration’? "We are all supposed to help,” Brain mercifully cuts it short.
“How about removing booze from His bloodstream?” says Liver sourly, the most pessimistic of the bunch.
“That is just doing your job,” exclaims Brain triumphantly, “and that does not cut it anymore!”
“Then have NSA remove alcohol from Him, while I decrypt Al-Quaeda   messages,” says Liver and shrinks visibly.
“No sulking and hysterics Organs” Heart admonishes sternly, “we are in this boat together."

One body and two minds

“I am not what I used to be,” Brain admits somberly, “and this 10% tax idea is really from Him.”
“Yeah, the idiot does not even eat lunch anymore,” mumbles Stomach. “And he quit smoking,” both Lungs squeal excitedly.
“Ok, Ok” Stomach takes charge, “the bottom line is whether we can survive on 90% of the blood and oxygen supply, and for how long.”
“Not just survive but thrive,” Left Kidney jokes and this brings  up painful memories.
“Sure we can,” says Pancreas, “it is just a matter of cutting off everything else.”
“I hope you are not talking about me,” says Penis, who usually does not pay much attention to anything. “Shut up!” all of the Organs yell, as usual. “But that’s an idea,” mutters Brain until  Bladder, who was quiet until now, starts screaming. “Do not even think about it!!” he roars,  "Hey, Penis, signing His name on the snow is our coolest trick, isn’t it?"  "Whatever," says Penis who thinks better of himself.

They get quiet and ponder for a while. “Let just stop growing His hair, take a bite of some of His tasty brain cells, and lower His testosterone level” Stomach proposes constructively.
“That will make Him crazy,” both  Lungs  giggle, “and with minimal effect on our operation.”

At this resolution Organs relax and finally stop fighting. An uneasy truce gives a ray of hope for this body,  at least on a biological level.

Treasure Trove

As the correspondence below indicates, we might be at a cusp of one the greatest scientific breakthrough of this millennium. Stay tuned!

———————————————

From: Ejiro Alabi    

Dear Sir/Madam,

This letter is not intended to  cause any embarrassment but just to contact your esteem self - following the knowledge of your high repute and trustworthiness.

I am Ejiro Alabi, the eldest son of the late Minister of Science who died two years ago today. If you are conversant with world news, you would understand better, while I got your contacts through my personal research. Please, I need your assistance to make this happen and please; do not undermine it because it will also be a source of upliftment to you. You have absolutely nothing to loose in assisting us,  instead you have so much to gain.

The then head of Ministry of Science, Colonel Oputa Alabi transferred to my custody a large wooden chest containing scientific ideas that in proper hands will solve the problems of Humanity forever. You must have heard over the media reports and the Internet on the recovery of various huge sums of money being found in my country and given away through angel investing. My Father’s treasure, although related, is quite different. It is a scientific Treasure Trove obtained by multitudes of incarcerated scientists who were for years laboring in harsh conditions under my late Father's watchful eye. Let this sad truth not stop you from seeing a magnificent outcome to this end.

Please my dear, I repose great confidence in you and I hope you will not betray my confidence in you.   This arrangement is known to you and myself only. So I will deal directly with you. Please rest assured that the modalities I have resolved to finalize the entire project guarantees our safety and the successful transfer of the ideas and discoveries. So, you will be absolutely right when you say that this project is risk free and viable. If you are capable and willing to assist, contact me at once via email with  your contact details.

Also this transaction demands absolute confidentiality. On no condition must you disclose it to anybody irrespective of your relation with the person. Remember, Loose lips sink ships. I am looking forward to your urgent and positive response.

Best Regards,

Ejiro Alabi

———————————————

From: Celine Rostbraten, Government Science Foundation of America.

Dear Ejiro,

what a great news, I am burning with excitement!  I am sure that it did not escape your attention that my beloved country no longer cares much for the scientific research, particularly in the realm of mathematical and physical sciences. Things got so bad that I fear that we have no minds that could take the theories and ideas from your esteemed Father’s Treasure Trove and forge them into Humanity saving applications. Also, I might add that as a former scientist I feel uneasy about your Father’s treatment of the scientific workforce, and I have some qualms about furthering discoveries obtained by such methods. Could you please address my concerns in your forthcoming letter?

Sincerely yours,

Celine Rostbraten

———————————

From: Ejiro Alabi

Dear Celine,

you are a true scientist and your heart is in the right place!  We live in topsy-turvy world and my beloved Father was always torn between serving Science and helping the scientific community. He was a determined and strong-willed man but please rest assured that the scientists that worked under his tutelage are for the most part doing well and are happily kicking around.

I share your worry about America’s divorce from rational thinking and lack of interest in scientific discovery. It makes me very hungry to thing about it! Perhaps as a compromise you will let my scientific crack team to take care of the developments leaving sweet fruits of our labor for you to consume? What if, for a small fee, rather than give you access to the scientific Treasure Trove that my beloved Father collected, I will present you with freshly minted science of the highest caliber? Wouldn’t it be worth a few millions of american dollars?

Yours Truly,

Ejiro

———————————————

From: Celine Rostbraten

Dear Ejiro,

your generosity overwhelms me, and I am struggling for words. At a risk of being too forceful and direct let me respectfully ask you what exactly would be the deliverables that you promise so gallantly and what would be the exact cost? Part of the problem with doing research in America is that it is so dreadfully expensive. For every american dollar that goes to the scientist, postdoc or a student there are two american dollars that go to some shadowy university official whose role in the project cannot be easily explained. For that reason we are getting more and more frugal and our resources are quite limited. Furthermore I am not sure if the State Department would issue a bank draft to cover your costs. Sadly we live in a divided world.

As ever,

Celine

———————————————

From: Ejiro Alabi

Celine!

you are a tough negotiator but I would not expect any less from you. My proposition is very simple. Ten spectacular scientific breakthroughs based on my late Father's scientific Treasure Trove. Each discovery will be followed within six months by a publication in a major professional journal with considerable impact factor plus a full page research announcement in Science, Nature, or equivalent. Each discovery will acknowledge participation and support of the Government Science Foundation of America.
How does this sound? Isn’t it worth  $1M (one million) of american dollars?

Yours,

Ejiro

———————————————

From: Celine Rostbraten

Ejiro!

I cannot believe my eyes! Here in America one million american dollars does not get you far, and certainly would not bring a scientific breakthrough! You are an angel!

I see a great future ahead because I have excellent news that I am about to divulge to you. It will allow to put your team on the job as we speak and to broaden the scope of this project simultaneously. I hope that your scientific team would welcome additional challenges. 

I am so excited that I do not even know where to start, but let me just say that something  miraculous has just happened.

A week ago I went fishing with my dear fried, the youngest daughter of the late Secretary of the Treasury. We travelled to her cabin in Adirondacks and while searching for fishhooks and worms we came across a very old metal chest buried in the toolshed. After some effort we managed to open it and we found out that it contained bricks of hundred dollar bills with the total amount of exactly TEN MILLION AMERICAN DOLLARS!

The money is completely off the books and we suspect that my dear friend’s late Father just fancied to have it lying around.

It is pure serendipity that now this good fortune can be used to advance the scientific ideas from your esteemed Father's scientific Treasure Trove.  The daughter of the late Secretary of the Treasury fully approves this plan since the discovery, while completely innocent, may cast an unwelcome light on her late Father's activities.

Will you be so graceful to accept 10% of this sum (ONE MILLION AMERICAN DOLLARS) for the support of your scientists and to cover your personal efforts in bringing the ten forthcoming scientific breakthroughs?

I am reserving the rest of the money for scientific projects of our joint interest.

Yours forever,

Celine

———————————————

From: Ejiro Alabi

Celine dearest!

I would have never guessed that such fortuitous events can happen outside my own country! We are truly blessed and the future of Humanity is with us. I would have loved to whisper sweet nothings into your ears but the responsibility is a heavy burden with me.  

Godspeed,

Your faithful
Ejiro