Flight to Paradise Ch. 14

"If we're lucky. Greg says anytime, including right now, works for him."

He smiles. "That guy is a go-getter."

"I think he's just bored selling vid screens and washing machines. I don't understand why humans waste so much of their potential. Why isn't Greg working somewhere where his intelligence can be put to good use?"

"He's probably wondering the same thing. So, after Everett has time to wake up, we'll set it up. Will you handle that please?"

"My pleasure. Anything else?"

"No, except to thank you for talking with me last night. I enjoyed it, and you were a big help."

"I just helped you to see what you already knew. But you're welcome all the same. I always enjoy talking with you. You now know what you want to do with regards to Kate?"

"Yes, I do. I even know when, more or less. I'll know the right moment when it arrives." He's about to say more when he hears a loud retching cough emanating from Everett's room. "Jesus! Does he always do that?"

"Mornings are hard," she says, having heard the sound of Everett over Mac's link.

"Is there nothing they can do to help him?" he asks as Everett coughs and gasps.

"Yes, but he refuses the treatment. He says the medicine makes him feel stupid. It won't halt the progress of the cancer, only treat the symptoms. It is a heavy narcotic that suppresses the body's auto-reflexes and one of the side-effects is sleepiness and slowed reactions."

"Is there anything I can do for him?"

"I suggest just leaving him alone until he emerges from his room. In an hour or so the worst will have passed. He's stopped pinging me until after..." she says, letting the sentence die. "It sounds as though it has gotten worse though."

"But you can help him?"

"No, not Everett," she says sadly. "Maybe others like him, in a few years. The odds are billions to one that I will discover a cure in time to help Everett. I may never discover a cure. But if I can develop a genetic vaccine, perhaps I can prevent others from having to suffer as Everett does."

"Genetic vaccine, like the one for Alzheimer's?"

"Yes. And Parkinson's and Multiple Sclerosis."

"Jesus," he says, gritting his teeth in sympathy as Everett suffers from a particularly nasty bout of coughing. "I hope you're right, Dana."

"So do I," she says, the sadness in her voice tearing at him.

"Is that bacon I smell," Everett says as he wanders into the kitchen. He looked drawn, pale, and exhausted, but his eyes are bright.

"Yes it is," Mac replies, grinning over his shoulder at Everett.

"But you're my guest. I should be doing that."

"I woke up first so..." Mac says pushing eggs around. He'd made a quick survey of available items in the kitchen while Everett struggled to breath in his room. He found a good supply of food, except for breakfast items. Everett appears to eat only cold cereal, but a quick trip the nearest market had netted him more eggs, bacon, and instant pancake batter. Eggs and bacon today, pancakes tomorrow.

"I normally just have a bowl of cereal," Everett says, leaning against the door as another, though less wet sounding, cough racks him.

"Yeah, I noticed. But I like real food," Mac says before striking a bodybuilder pose with a comically fierce look on his face.

Everett begins to laugh, a laugh that dissolves into a cough. "Don't make me laugh," he says, waving a hand at Mac. "Not until I get all this... shit... coughed up. I know you heard me this morning. The dead can hear me. I didn't think of that when I invited you to stay. I hope I didn't disturb you."

"Well, to be honest, you did, but not in the way you might think. Professor, let the doctors help you for God's sake!"

"Those quacks?" he exclaims. "They don't know what to do other than stick me full of needles. When I first found out, I did everything they suggested. Didn't do a damn thing. Once they admitted there wasn't anything they could do other than make me comfortable, they left out the part that being comfortable means not knowing what's going on. I tried it for a while. But sleeping sixteen, eighteen hours a day? Forget that! Or worse, sitting there wondering what it was I was just doing. No Mac. The price was too high. Now, aside from coughing my lungs up every morning, I'm, more or less, me."

Mac looks at Everett for several long moments. "Well, I give you credit for one thing. You're a hell of a lot tougher than you look."

"And don't you forget it!"

"Gregory Ryder, Professor Everett Dill," Dana says over the ping, making the introductions. "Professor, Greg."

"Nice to meet you Greg," Everett says.

"Professor Dill! The pleasure is all mine, sir. I can't tell you how honored I am to speak with you."

"Well, thank you Greg. That's very kind of you to say."

After an awkward pause Dana speaks as Mac listens in, saying nothing and letting Dana handle the meeting. "Professor Dill will be flying down to Dallas in a couple of weeks to install the computer systems, and since you agreed to help, I thought it might ease things if I were to introduce you first."

"Yes. Mr. McMillan said you'd be flying down. I'm, uh, looking forward to watching you work and... uh... helping where I can."

"Dana and Mac have told me about you, and I've seen your resume and curriculum vitae. Impressive grades Mr. Ryder," Everett says, falling easily into his Professor Pickle persona, a persona that fits him like comfortable sweater. "I suspect I will find your help quite valuable."

"Uh... thank you, sir, Professor. I certainly hope I can live up to your expectations. I'd planned to attend Oregon State, but you retired before I could complete high school and..."

"OSU is still an excellent university, Mr. Ryder."

"Yes sir. But, well, so is the University of Texas, and much closer to home. So, when you retired..."

"Mr. Ryder," Everett says sternly, "you mean to tell me that you were planning to attend OSU simply because I was teaching there?"

Mac can feel Greg's nervousness pouring through the link as Everett looks at him and grins, causing him to chuckle and shake his head.

"Not the only reason, sir," Greg finally says. "As you stated, OSU is an excellent institution, but I wanted to learn about computers and robots, and I thought that if I was going to learn, I might as well learn from the best."

"Mr. Ryder, I sincerely hope you are not trying to flatter me in the hope that I will go more easily on you when I arrived in Dallas. I will expect you to put forth your best effort."

"No, sir! The textbook we are using at UT is written by you. So, someone other than me must believe you have something to share as well."

Mac listens for a few minutes more as Professor Pickle grilles Greg like one of his students, but obviously liking what he's hearing, before dropping out of the ping and placing another to Dana.

"It's going well, isn't it?" Dana says, clearly as pleased as he is.

"Very well. Let's find him a small furnished apartment, shortest lease we can manage. Somewhere near the facility. And rent a car. It'll be cheaper to rent the apartment than to pay for a hotel."

"You think he'll stay?"

"I think he'll stay for a while. Through the startup pains at least. God knows we can use him."

"Thank you, Mac, for everything you have done for Pickle."

"Dana, I've done nothing, but we've done a lot."

"Okay," she says quietly, "then thank you for helping me. I couldn't have possibly done this alone. I shall be forever in your debt."

"Find a cure, Dana. Just find a cure and we'll call it even."

After three days in Eugene, Mac touches the Bathing Beauty down at the Oroville airport. It's been a good week and he's looking forward to some down time until he has to fly to LA to pick up Kate and the Roses. He's been punching a lot of holes in the air of late and the hours are nearly up on the Goose's engines. It's time for an oil change and the yearly inspection, and another five-thousand-dollar bill. Mac smiles ruefully as he taxis the plane to the hanger of the maintenance facility he uses, remembering an old joke about women being the most expensive hobby a man can have. Whoever first said that obviously didn't own an airplane.