Twenty-Third Post / The Real World

It's strange that I should, over Spring Break, feel more like an adult than during a period of academic activity. I am experiencing the classic American 9-to-5 (though the 5 seems to be rather flexible, and sometimes the 9 when the 5 really gives way), and something like a working-man's home-life.

Work with my mentor is going well. We are enjoying ourselves and breaking ground, though our ethics differ on a few points. I cannot explain or elaborate because of the sensitivity of the project's details. But the home-life : last Thursday night found me and Alfonzo alone in the suite. What followed was highly unexpected; rather than threats of violence, outright violence or extreme introversion, I was met with a sort of casual acceptance.

I walked into the suite and found him watching television and drinking wine. He offered me a spot on the couch and polished off his already opened bottle of wine before offering me a new one. I accepted, and we spent the night as two long-lost Russian brothers might have; singing, swaying, and drinking.

The last time I was so drunk was when I was 8-years-old. As long as I have been drinking, Thursday was the first time my memory has drowned. Only patches of the night's late hours have stayed with me, but I managed to wake up in time to get back to work the next day.

I'd like to know where I can get more of that wine.

-Vlad

Twenty-Second Post / Home Can Wait

My plan had been to go home for Spring Break. My father seems to find my presence comforting, more so than that of my younger brother or older sister. Babushka would tell me, when I was younger, that I looked like my father shrunk up in water. While I've appreciated my advantage in his eyes, I have tried to be a good son to him and to exceed his expectations of me. I have been presented with a most promising opportunity, but I would have to stay in St. Louis for Spring Break to fulfill it. And though my father would appreciate my company, I'd like to think that this is the sort of decision he would make; my mother once mentioned that he delayed their engagement by three years when he was offered a position under Andropov, and I feel, also, that there are times when one's family must rest aside a greater goal.

We are going to smooth out the edges of the Abili-Compound, hopefully producing something that will meet FDA approval. Doing this inside of a week seems ambitious, but Donald (he insists that I call him Donald) has very high hopes for me. He's been told I have a flare for rapid computation.

I realize that my promise was to post here more often, but it seems like a truer calling has found me. If my family can wait, the blog can wait. There's work to be done.

-Vlad

Twenty-First Post / Muses

Moon afreeze and Sun afire,
Shall we shake or else perspire?
The fickle Wind and silent Earth
Won't inform morrow's attire.

They say it changes with the breeze,
And Twain said to wait fifteen,
But the waiting game is not my scene.
So, will I sweat or will I sneeze?


There are many changes afoot in modern science. Humans have built all that they can think of, and now turn to self-renovation. I, myself, was the unsuspecting beneficiary of that renovation, where before I counted myself as merely lucky. It seems that what happened in Kansas was only partially an accident.

If you had told me, in September, that there were a number of senior faculty members with an interest in me, I would not have been surprised. I was aware of the attention my work was attracting, and I could feel the subtle tug from each of the science departments on campus. Lacking the words to comfortably stray from numbers, I stayed in the physics laboratory. Many of the interested faculty were disappointed, but one resourceful fellow was not to be discouraged.

I was treated, through a series of dinner conversations and bribes to Bon Appetí­t workers, to a substance which stimulated a reorganization of my brain. The weeks passed and my brain grew and folded into itself, yet I knew nothing of it; self-consciousness, it seems, is a thing that can endure significant undermining. My inarticulate self was perfectly cohesive, and would not adapt to my brain's improved functions. And then came Alfonzo...

Alfonzo was not paid off, or informed of my state in any way. He knew no better than I did what would result from his attack and my consequent concussion. My identity blurred and lost cohesion, and the newer, better Vladimir leaked through the cracks. As I recovered, my new identity seeped down into the rearranged folds and embraced them. I awoke, a fully-functional improved person.

The bio-medical engineering school has been the most vehement in pursuing me, and I have only just learned the lengths to which they were willing to go. I have no allegiance to the physics department, and I owe my new skills to BME, so I have switched my primary major. I will be working on the very project that brought me about; the development of physically and mentally-enhancing compounds. We are building the AbiliBurger and so, rebuilding mankind.


The stomach rumbles
But the mind is starving.
Feed them both.

-Vlad