part 2

Things happened pretty fast after that.

It was the perfect combination, both of us thought we were getting the better end of the deal.
We saw each other every day for the next five weeks and when my roommate moved out to live with her boyfriend there was no reason not to give up his tiny studio when I had the entire upstairs of an old house all to myself. Once we got the smell of her cat out of the rug, we turned the second bedroom into a studio/study/storage area where we set up Adam’s two computers, my sewing machine and drawing table, various bicycles, backpacks, guitars, and assorted junk. We left my desk in the living room so we could work without disturbing each other. I didn’t own a car and it helped a lot that Adam did. He came occasionally to see me when I was performing, but usually he would stay home to work on his classes and his project and pick me up when I was done.

I was deliriously happy. Between work and school, we didn't have as much time together as we wanted, so we tried to make every moment count. As winter came on we found ourselves more and more often indoors, frequently deep in long, penetrating conversations about the nature of life, the universe, everything, the kind of late night exchanges that college life is notorious for but that not everyone actually has. Sunday mornings we would make whole wheat waffles with walnuts and real maple syrup and then go back to bed until after noon.

One evening about three months after we met, I came home after an afternoon of singing cheesy ballads at a wedding reception and found him bursting with excitement, pouring reasonably decent champagne into peanut butter jars.

"Welcome home! You look wonderful. How'd it go?" He handed me a jar.

"It was OK, they went through with it, nobody did anything embarrassing, and,” I held up an envelope, “they paid me in cash.” I tapped the jar with the envelope. “What's the occasion?"

He raised his jar. “We’re celebrating the death of the impasse.”

“The impasse? I have . . oh, you meant that impasse? The impasse?”

“Exactly. Which means, according to an expert I happen to know, that it was never an impasse in the first place. So I suppose we’re really celebrating the fact that I was mistaken about the impasse. Wait, wait. We’re celebrating the fact I was mistaken about something that wasn’t an impasse.”

“So what was it?”

“Don’t ask hard questions. Drink.” He touched his jar to mine, “To the death of the impasse that never was!”

“Cheers. And congratulations!” I took a small sip, I had a head start on the champagne from the wedding. “Does this mean you’re ready to talk about it?”

“Aah,” he said for effect, smacking his lips after a long drink, “Well, I’m aching to, just can’t yet, sorry.”

"Come on, you can't leave it like that, I know there's something you can tell me."

“Alright, let’s see.” He sat down and pulled me onto his lap.

“Let’s see, let’s see . . . ok. Once upon a time there was a scientist who thought he’d found a way to do something no one else had ever done before. He was making excellent progress until he came to a big, bad Impasse. The Impasse said, ‘You can’t do that.” The scientist said, ‘Why not?’ and the Impasse replied, ‘Because you can’t.” So the scientist went away and did some pretty good theoretical physics, but all it did was show him that the Impasse was right, and he could prove it. The scientist thought that was the end of his project, but he didn’t feel too bad because he knew he could get a couple papers out of the work he had done, so it wasn’t a total waste of time. But no sooner had he begun to reconcile himself to this than he ran into . . . something else, something . . . an Insight. And the Insight said . . “

“What does an Insight look like, anyway?”

“Hey, I’m on a roll here. Alright, an Insight is smaller than an Impasse, but cuter.”

“Ok, sorry, continue.”

“So the Insight said, ‘It doesn’t matter.’ and the scientist said, ‘Of course it matters, I can prove it matters.’ and the Insight said, ‘It doesn’t matter.’ So the scientist went back to his notes and stared at them and stared at them some more and thought about the whole thing for a few weeks and then one morning the Insight kicked him in the ass and said, ‘You might want to take a very close look at this particular item and ask yourself what assumptions you’ve been making about what it means.’ So the scientist took a good, hard look at the equations in question and suddenly he realized, it doesn’t matter! It doesn’t matter at all!”

“What doesn’t matter?”

“The Impasse! So the scientist went back to the Impasse and said, ‘You’re one tough son of a bitch and we both know I can’t get past you, but it doesn’t matter, I don’t have to! I’m moving on, and I’m going without you.’ And he did.” He winked at me. “Cheers,” he said, then drained his jar.

“So it was an impasse after all.”

“Yeah, I guess so. Forget what I said earlier. Whatever it was, it’s history.”

“And now you can change the world?”

“Absolutely. Not exactly the way I thought, but the world will certainly never be the same. I’m telling you, I felt like Archimedes, eureka! I was so pumped. It was right there in front of me! I was assuming certain things always occurred together and that was the problem. Once I realized they were actually discrete aspects and I could separate them, I was home free. Not was, am. In about two hours I got everything to square up just the way I thought it could. It was exhilarating.”

“Like putting in the last piece of the puzzle?”

“Well, actually I still have some putting together to do, but I finally know for sure I have the right pieces, and I know I have all of them. Can I have a sip of that?”

I held the jar to his lips. “Well, I have to admit it was a pretty good story for a totally impromptu effort, but it didn’t really tell me any more than I already knew. It was an entertaining way of saying you had a problem and you solved it, but I still have no idea what you’re working on.”

“Hmm,” he nodded as he swallowed. Then, “I guess you’re right, sorry, I don’t know what else to say.”

I set the jar on the table. “Can you at least tell me why you can't tell me?"

“I don’t know if I can give you anything that will be satisfying. I still have a lot more work to do and I don’t think I should discuss it until it’s ready. And by ready, I don't mean a stack of equations to pass around, I've discovered a property of physical law I can demonstrate. I can build a machine to do something that will blow your mind, and I should be able to do it with parts and equipment I have access to. I won't need the resources of the NSF or plutonium or a some stupid security clearance."

“I suppose I can understand that, I know what it's like to not want anyone to see what I'm working on until it's finished. But you’ve got me excited, how long am I going to have to wait?"

He shrugged. “I’ve been wondering that myself all day. I’ll need some help with the engineering, but I’m hoping I can put together a small demonstration model in a couple months. But I’m off the map with this thing, I don’t know what kinds of problems I might run into. Who knows? It could take ten years.”

“Ten years!”

“I don’t think so, I just don’t want to make any promises.”

I sighed. “Ok, I’ll be patient.”

“That’s my girl. But I’m still aiming for a few months. Besides, I only have access to the U’s resources until summer.”

“What about after that?”

“Well, if I have a working model, I won’t need them, I’ll be able to go anywhere I want.”

“It’s that important?”

“Listen, if I have a working model, everyone I show it to will open a bank vault and hand me a shovel.”

“Adam!”

“I’m not shitting you. There won’t be a government or corporation on Earth that won’t give me the keys to the city.”

“Even if you mix metaphors?”

He laughed. “I told you I was going to change the world.” He took my hands gently and spoke quietly and earnestly. “You have to understand something Crys. This isn’t just a project, this is the freakin’ holy grail. This will be my life’s work, and it will become the life’s work for countless other people. When I say it will change the world, I really mean that, the world will never be the same, never. When you finally come to know what I’m working on, it will take your breath away. At first you’ll be mistaken about what it means, as I was mistaken for so long. In some ways you will even be disappointed, but it doesn’t matter. The significance of what I’m about to do cannot be underestimated. Everyone on Earth will know my name. By association most of them will know yours. We stand on the threshold of a new era, a new age.”

I looked into his eyes and I could see he meant every word he said. It gave me chills. My heart beat faster but with the excitement came an uneasiness I can’t describe.

He began again. “On the other hand . . . ”

“On the other hand . . . ?”

“I could be crazy as a loon.”

I looked at him for moment. “I don’t care,” I said, and ran my fingers through his hair. “As long as you’re my loon.”

We ate a light meal, worked or studied for a bit, found the need and the time for both passion and tenderness. Then Adam slept as I lay for hours in the darkness, trying not to wish the man I loved was wrong.