She Blinded Me With Science, page 1
part #3 of All's Fae in Love and Chocolate Series
SHE BLINDED ME WITH SCIENCE
All's Fae in Love and Chocolate
Story #3
By
Michelle L. Levigne
Uncial Press Aloha, Oregon
2011
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and events described herein are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locations, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
ISBN 13: 978-1-60174-120-2
ISBN 10: 1-60174-120-0
She Blinded me with Science
Copyright © 2011 by Michelle L. Levigne
Cover art and design by Victoria Conrad
Copyright © 2011
The original three ALL'S FAE IN LOVE AND CHOCOLATE short stories--Day and Knight, Smoke and Mirrors, and She Blinded Me with Science--were published electronically, separately, between 2005 and 2006, by New Concepts Publishing. An anthology of all three stories was made available in paper in 2006.
All rights reserved. Except for use in review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the author or publisher.
Published by Uncial Press,
an imprint of GCT, Inc.
Visit us at http://www.uncialpress.com
Chapter One
"To sum up my thesis in one sentence: Magic, or the perceived existence of magic, is psychosomatic." Sophie Hunter focused on her doctoral advisor, Dr. Hermann, and blocked out the reactions of the other six professors sitting at the long table before her.
She also tried to ignore Jennifer Montcrief--called Mount Grief by three-quarters of their classmates--who had finagled permission to listen to Sophie's presentation. The last time Sophie looked, these presentations were private. Onlookers were neither wanted nor permitted. Unfortunately, what Jennifer Montcrief wanted, she got. And those who stood in her way usually suffered. Grousing over Jennifer's unusual talent for success at the expense of others led Sophie to her thesis topic. She couldn't decide if it would insult or compliment Jennifer to use her as an example.
"Here there be dragons, simply because the peasants wanted to believe in someone stronger than their overlords?" Dr. VanderHuey said. He actually looked impressed, and it took a lot to get more than a scowl from him at the best of times.
Sophie believed in her thesis topic and had psyched herself to believe the panel would not only allow her to pursue her research, but would also throw a sizable grant her way. If she got her go-ahead, she would have already proved her thesis. At least, in her mind.
"Among other things, sir." Sophie nodded when she wanted to jump up and down. "Impossible things happened, not because our ancestors were ignorant of the laws of nature, but because they believed they were possible. They affected the outcome with their belief, just like the act of observing an event in some small way affects the outcome of the event."
"Now you're getting into quantum physics, Hunter," Dr. Hermann said. Despite the flat line of his mouth, his eyes sparkled with humor.
"In some ways, sir, I think quantum physics and psychology intersect. There's the theory of parallel universes, where every decision that is made creates a branching in realities... Do you want me to go into that?" That earned a few chuckles from the professors. Sophie took a deep breath and refused to react to that sign of progress.
Progress, nothing. She was doing incredibly well.
"Next you'll be saying little green men are real just because the loonies who claimed they were abducted believed they would be," Jennifer remarked in saccharine tones from behind her.
"Miss Montcrief, you are here only on the good graces of your advisor, because he believes you still don't understand the presentation process," Dr. Hermann growled. If looks could kill, his disapproving glare would have put Jennifer six feet under, with three feet of that being solid cement reinforced with iron rebar.
There were times Sophie really needed magic to be real, and this was one of them.
"She does have a point," Dr. Putney said in his usual weary tone of voice.
Common consensus said he hadn't always been so exhausted. At least, not before he got assigned as advisor to Jennifer.
"What is magic, sir," Sophie said quickly, "except technology that is too advanced for the observer to understand? Quantum physics says strength of belief opens doorways to parallel versions of reality. Two hundred years ago, the same 'little green men' would have been seen as demons, leprechauns, faeries, or other magical creatures, depending on the local culture."
"You have an answer for everything, don't you, Hunter?" Dr. Crooz snapped. She shoved her cats-eye glasses higher up on the bridge of her nose and sniffed disdainfully.
"No, ma'am. That's why I need to do research. Hopefully, I'll come away with some answers that will be useful to others."
"Hopefully," Jennifer muttered, just soft enough that no one but Sophie heard.
* * * *
"Clever girl." Dr. Hermann said an hour later, in the privacy of his office. He nodded, and smiled through his bushy gray beard. "I hope you have some science fiction conventions on your list of research. Back when I was in your position, I would have been laughed off campus if I suggested even visiting such an event on a lark. Now, you're considered up-to-date and progressive to include them as a valid sub-culture. I envy you."
Sophie believed that back in Dr. Hermann's student days, science fiction conventions didn't even exist. She was too smart to say so, however. All that mattered was that she had approval for her project, grant money, and a full academic year to do her research.
"You know what they've been saying about you, in the ivory towers?" he continued.
"No, sir."
"The betting pool had it on good authority that you would propose elves are real." He snorted when Sophie involuntarily reached up to tug her hat lower on her head.
She couldn't remember a time when her pointed ears hadn't gotten her into trouble. Sure, the quirky family trait had been a big help at Halloween and when she belonged to that Star Trek club, but she never liked being a Vulcan for costume parties or role-playing games, so what fun was that? Sophie wore hats and colorful scarves or just pulled her hair over her ears whenever possible. She never dreamed that they would stop the academic world from taking her seriously.
Maybe when she proved magic was psychosomatic and therefore real in a logical, usable form, people would finally take her seriously.
Or maybe she should just use some of that grant money for plastic surgery?
* * * *
Kevyn wanted that starring role in the new SyFy flick so badly, he could taste it. He suspected he had been offered the part because the casting director was sick to death of being hounded by wannabes and egocentric actors who claimed they were SF buffs and couldn't keep the characters and their universes straight. Big liars were desperate for work. Desperation for work was a sign that maybe the actor was neither good nor reliable, or a royal pain to work with--or a combination of all three.
It hurt to turn down the role, but Kevyn needed to work in the background. He was quite happy to sit around eight out of nine hours every day, getting fed by Craft Services and catching up on his reading. He loved Human books, especially their totally ridiculous ideas on magic. He loved acting in science fiction or fantasy movies, wearing outlandish makeup and costumes. He preferred not to memorize lines or pretend to be infatuated by a leading lady with garlic on her breath, who was in need of hormone therapy or major electrolysis work.
So he turned down the role he hadn't auditioned for, and used a little magic on his agent to keep the poor woman from threatening to shoot him again or jump out the window. He had the spell memorized. He had to use it four times this year so far, and it was only May.
Maybe it was immature to want to stay out in the Human world and work in motion pictures, instead of settling down to learn the family business. Just how many times could the Ethics of Magic Code and all the other Fae laws governing interaction with the Human world be rewritten? His family had produced a long and illustrious line of Fae Advocates. Why couldn't his parents be happy with his six brothers following in their ancestors' footsteps? Why did the lucky seventh son have to be an Advocate, too?
To avoid being dragged home to boredom and respectability before he hit his two hundredth birthday, Kevyn had to stay out of headlines, movie posters and commercials. That meant no starring roles.
"Believe me, kiddo, one of these days you're going to regret passing up your chance," Corry Kimball said as he turned to leave her office. But she said it with a smile and reached for the phone to call the casting director and explain why her client wouldn't be right for the role.
Kevyn sighed in relief and used a little more magic to keep the five other clients in the waiting room from seeing him leave. Whenever someone heard he had turned down a plum role, they wanted to pound him. If there was some sort of glamour or magic spell that made him so desirable, he could understand, because his success would literally rub off on them. As far as Kevyn could see, casting directors refusing to leave him in the background was luck of the worst sort.
He stopped at the mall on his way home and picked up a bag of new books, so fresh off the presses he could smell the ink, and a bag of apple fritters. His favorite sport was lying on the futon in his tiny apartm
Two blocks from his apartment, the beads in the charm band on his left wrist buzzed. He had a two-fold burglar alarm system in his tiny apartment. The first layer of defenses tested the intruders for the presence of magic. If no magic, the second layer set to work playing on the would-be-thieves' fears. And if that didn't work, books and kitchen utensils flew around the apartment until they left, shrieking, bleeding and bruised.
If the intruders had magic--these did, according to the glow emanating from the gold and green beads--then all magical elements in his apartment shut down and went into sleeper mode. He had learned useful things from Human computer systems, and despite the disdain some relatives had for anything Human-originating, he appreciated all the cleverness of Humans' version of magic-without-magic.
Well, he was safe from detection by his relatives and whatever bounty hunters they had sent after him now. The downside to this was that he couldn't go back to his apartment for at least three weeks. Maybe more. He didn't keep important documents in his apartment, just clothes, food and books, so the hunter couldn't trace him. He could just hole up in a hotel for the next month and read, keep in contact with his agent by cell phone, and buy whatever jeans, T-shirts and underwear he needed. No problem.
Except that this little game was getting tiresome. When were they going to learn that he wanted to be a minor actor, not an Advocate? When were they going to admit he was a big boy and he knew what he wanted out of life?
He grumbled one of the multiple variations of that question that evening, when he met his best friend in the industry in their favorite corner bar. A little sympathy would have been welcome, but his buddy only found amusement in it.
"So your folks are after you again." Dougie Jones chortled and saluted Kevyn with his fourth bottle of beer for the night. "Man, I wish I had that kind of problem."
"No, you don't." Kevyn had had enough beer. He wanted to get smashed, and that required diet cherry cola. Another brilliant invention of Humans, and he wasn't ashamed to admit it. "I'm a grown man and they still think they can order me around like I'm under my nanny's thumb."
"Becoming a lawyer ain't my idea of a fine life. Too much work. You and me, day actors, we got it made. Working in the movies, seeing the world, paid to stand around and talk to pretty girls, wearing cool costumes. What more could studs like us want?" He plunked his bottle down on the sticky counter. "This is the only bar I want to study." He nodded, frowning as a thought visibly crept from the hibernating recesses of his mind. "Hey, got a great idea. I just signed up for a gig with a street theater team. They travel around to science fiction conventions, do what they call interactive drama that the fans can play along with. It's a blast."
"Does it pay good?" Kevyn pretended to be skeptical, when something inside him leaped for joy. A chance to get out of town for a while!
"The more alien parts you can play with a straight face, the better the pay. And if you don't mind groupies going after you, that's an added bonus. Chicks just dig the pointed ears." Dougie leered for about five seconds before his eyes rolled back in his head and he slowly slid off his bar stool.
Kevyn sighed and propped his friend up. He really did like Dougie, so worldlywise despite his relative youth at age forty-three. Well, he wouldn't get his diet cherry cola tonight. Despite the accusations of his relatives, he was a very responsible and reliable Fae and someone had to be the designated driver. Kevyn didn't need to get bombed and forget his troubles. He had a place to spend the night and a possible long-term job, and a chance to get out of town. Life was good.
Chapter Two
Life sucked. Not just life in general, but life in particular on the SF convention circuit.
Sophie sat in a dark corner of the lounge and scowled at the scantily clad girls wearing twenty different costumes from as many movies. Did they have to be so dang skinny? What happened to the proverbial "size twenty Star Trek fandom" she had heard about in jokes for so many years? Skinny hips, skinny waists, long legs that looked good whether it was in Classic Trek miniskirts or caveman furs or Elfquest tunics. And shouldn't-they-fall-on-their-faces-from-all-that-weight bustlines.
She stuck out like a sore thumb because of her generous curves and lack of costume. Sophie was tired of getting sneers, even when she cornered some costumed exhibitionist and said she was doing research for her doctoral thesis. Everybody around her was too busy having fun to sit still long enough to be interviewed, even for the sake of some immortality in an academic paper. Even trading her blazer and skirt for a Gandalf T-shirt and jeans didn't help her blend in any better or gain a measure of acceptance.
Trying to fit in at SF conventions was a waste of time and effort. Just like trying to live down the long history of quacks, charlatans and lunatics in her family history. If her delusional ancestors weren't locked up in asylums, they were burned at the stake as witches or run out of town by people who considered them a threat to their children and their sanity.
The only thing that kept her from giving up was the thought of Jennifer Montcrief's glee and triumph.
Moaning, Sophie massaged her scalp to try to ease her headache. She bowed her head, propped herself up with her chin in her fist, and contemplated her untouched rum-and-Coke. Her second for the evening. Even that old standby didn't help give her that floaty, tomorrow-is-another-day feeling.
"Hey, baby, what're you doing, sitting back here in the dark?"
Sophie groaned and considered pretending to be asleep. Except her eyes were open. She didn't want to see the wobbling, overweight, drunken idiot in a badly made costume who was going to try to pick her up. If all the girls in fandom these days were anorexic, the guys were Captain Tubby personified.
"Great ears," he added. "They look real. How d'ya do it?"
"Ears," she snarled. Then a moment later, Sophie burst out laughing. It figured, didn't it? She kept her ears covered all the time out of habit. The first time she let her hair down, literally, she finally got some acceptance.
He was probably too drunk to care that they were real ears.
Such was her life--and, as she had noted earlier, it sucked.
"Yeah, really great pickup line, huh?" the guy said, and slid into the booth facing her. "It's been a rough weekend, let me tell you. Nice to find a girl who doesn't let it all hang out, know what I mean?"
Sophie looked up at him and gasped. He was in great shape. His eyes weren't bloodshot, he didn't smell like beer and he didn't need a corset under that trim STIV-style uniform. He had a five o'clock shadow trying to peek out through his blue Andorean makeup, and he had taken off the white wig and antennae, so his sweaty, salt-and-pepper hair showed.
"Dougie Jones," he said, holding out his hand to shake. "I'm with the theater troupe."
"Sophie Hunter, doctoral researcher." She held out her hand and waited for him to laugh or flee the booth as if she carried the Black Plague.
"Well, hell, no wonder you're not running around with a scorecard and trying to jump everybody's bones." He mimed wiping sweat off his forehead and slouched in the booth. "Nice to meet you, Doc."
Maybe, just maybe, her life didn't suck after all.
* * * *
Kevyn had been watching the curvy brunette for the last two hours, trying to decide just what game she played. He liked it that she looked comfortable in jeans, sneakers and a wine-colored T-shirt--not squeezed into an outfit that was mostly lace or faux leopard skin or a miniskirt designed to leave nothing to the imagination. How did girls get around on those stilts glued to their feet? The fact that they could still move with lightning speed and grab at uncomfortable portions of an actor's anatomy proved some Humans possessed unconscious magic.
Something about her made the tips of his ears tingle. It was a warning of some kind, a gift from some social deviant ancestor who had made his living as an assassin and seduced every Human princess he could get his hands on. Did she pretend disinterest to lure an actor into her clutches? Or did she simply enjoy the flash and silliness of the convention from the sidelines?
