Zarulium Chronicles I - Destination Nazca

Chapter 10: Ruth visits Anton – Aurica – December 19

  Today Ruth was putting aside all her usual corporate philanthropic efforts to focus on a different venture. It was different because unlike all of her other projects past and present; this one wholly involved the personal touch: it was just between her and one other person.

  Today, Lady Ruth Clarkson-Smythe planned to meet with Doctor Anton Vladimir Yakushev. Ruth had a secretive arrangement with the doctor. Starting several years ago, she had agreed to fund fully the continuing research of the former NASA astrophysicist.

  NASA had originally hired Anton to develop an improved spaceship propulsion system. He was currently a former astrophysicist probably because about a decade ago rumours emerged that he had voiced his theories on time travel in such a way as caused his superiors embarrassment. Allegedly, Yakushev had claimed then that his theories were legitimate and attainable within the next few years. Seemingly, this unpublicized outburst had led NASA to 'require him to step down' as head of its Mars exploration team. After Yakushev resigned his post, the scientific community ridiculed then ostracized him.

  Ruth felt that scientific research was valuable in all fields, but had a personal interest in one area specifically: aircraft propulsion. The origin of her vast wealth was in aeronautics – CS Aeronautics remained today as the cornerstone of her financial empire and the world's leading producer of civilian aircraft.

  While Ruth respected that Anton's NASA research involved rocket engineering and not the jet version; nevertheless, she reasoned he was an intriguing risk. The way Ruth viewed his background; he must regard jet engineering as the simple stuff.

  So far, however, he had produced little that her builders could use, but he was comparatively cheap and she kept him secret anyways. If he ever made a practical breakthrough, the rewards to civilian aviation could be significant. With $22 billion in her wallet, Ruth could afford patience.

  Today she needed to meet with Anton for their twice-annual progress report. This meeting was particularly important because it also marked the end of their current agreement plan.

  As Ruth sat reviewing Anton's biannual report, she once again realized how little she knew about science. Ruth knew as a former Business major student who minored in both Literature and History that her education had connections to humanity's past and not to science. In fact, even her non-degree credits included Mythology and Fine Art: everything about her post-secondary education had a 'historical' angle except the business element – science was not her forte.

  Sitting back in her seat, Ruth tried to recall any positive memories of science that she had found enjoyable. Then she remembered viewing the first Star Wars films as a child. She remembered that the immensely popular films had profoundly dominated pop culture. For a time after viewing them, she recalled having fantasized about being a space explorer. Fat chance!

  With her lunch settling in, Ruth felt a bit sleepy. Drifting off, Ruth dreamt that aliens had captured her. The aliens wanted the secret of time travel. They had a mind-probing device. She saw herself strapped to a chair resisting the probing capacity of their device. She could see herself resisting successfully at first but eventually she weakened.

  As she imagined struggling to keep the secrets, Ruth tried to free herself but the bonds on her hands were too tight. She needed a champion to save her but saw no one as the alien approached her with the extra deep-probing, head electrodes . . . and then Ruth's cell phone rang.

  "Ruthy darling, it is I, Uncle Chauncey. I have that financial update you requested," began her ancient, great uncle, Chauncey, from her mother's side.

  "What? Oh sorry, uncle, yes of course," replied Ruth, distractedly. Coming out of her daze, she asked, "Is it the one we anticipated?"

  Joyfully, Chauncey explained, "Indeed. Lady Ruth Clarkson-Smythe, I proudly announce for your ears only that you now possess three Canadian dollars for every person on the planet – you are 23 times a billionaire!"

  "Thank you, Uncle Chauncey! I will celebrate with you this evening or tomorrow evening, but for now I must drive north for a meeting!"

  "Well done, child, your parents would be proud!"

  "Thank you, Uncle, ta-ta then!"

  Before disconnecting, Chauncey added, "Stiff upper lip and tally ho!"

  Ruth forgot about her fantasy and thought fondly of her great uncle instead. The octogenarian Lord Chauncey Clarkson was her closest relative and trusted financial advisor. From the day she was on her own, Ruth began to see him as a sort of giant soft pillow beneath which she stashed the family fortune.

  In addition to building on the original family business in aviation that started in the 1950s, Ruth had diversified shortly after the new millennium. Time and choice had been kind regarding the results. Her earliest investments in sustainable agriculture and renewable forestry businesses as well as recent ones in children’s ethical entertainment had soared in value of late.

  Thinking of 'late' caused Ruth to glance at the clock and seeing the time, she almost jumped to attention. She needed to start her two-hour drive north or risk a highway traffic jam. Ruth collected what she needed; dropped these things into a large but tastefully designed shoulder bag; and headed to her underground parking spot.

  She resembled a graduate of the most renowned of English sidesaddle riding schools, as she slipped elegantly into the driver's seat of her wealth-understating sedan and drove off to meet Anton. She glanced at her car's clock and decided that she approved of it showing 1:30 PM on the dot. She approved because she needed to avoid the ubiquitous North American urban weekday rush hour period. By departing before 2 PM, she had a good chance of avoiding traffic.

  Pleased that the roads were mercifully snowless, Ruth began her drive. Before too long, she spotted that snow covered patches of the surrounding countryside, and eventually, it fully blanketed it.

  As she drove, her mind drifted like the snow along side her. She thought of the reasonably successful press conference and her determination to protect Nazca for the sake of humanity. Farther up the highway, as the snow began to fall lightly on her windshield, Ruth admitted that just as the snow treated her indifferently, so most of humanity would regard her efforts with Nazca.

  She expected that in six months most people who read yesterday's Nazca news would be barbecuing discount hamburgers after consuming a few too many alcoholic beverages on their suburban decks. By the time they accidentally lost bladder control in their swimming pools later at night, they would have forgotten about the potential reasons why curious bunches of ancient etchings on a Peruvian mountain plateau were important enough to want to protect.

  She drove on and the snow fell a little harder. She tended to drive by memory rather than relying on her GPS. She reasoned that as long as she remained on the highway, then she would focus on the road and not a gadget. This seemed safe to Ruth and she adored safety.

  After nearly two hours of driving, Ruth passed the first road sign identifying Anton's community, Aurica. Aurica was a thinly populated but very large farming community between two small cities. Aurica sounded to her suspiciously like the Latin word for gold – aurum. It seemed that gold was inescapable at present.

  Determined to dismiss gold from her thoughts, Ruth decided to focus on the potential excitement and certain curiosity of a visit with Anton Yakushev. The potential excitement such a visit might hold was obvious: he might announce a breakthrough one of these visits.

  The certain curiosity was the unknown entity. He always seemed to have something he considered exciting on the go but which confounded Ruth. She often had to feign excitement politely at such revelations but enjoyed his level of enthusiasm as he did so. She knew humouring him in this way was fraudulent, but forgave herself because she was certain he did not care what anyone thought of his work.

  Spotting his exit, she signalled. She chuckled reasoning that a picture of Anton surely stood beside the definition of 'eccentric secluded scientist', in an imaginary encyclopaedia. He was a human
cliché. He was a strange chap.

  As she turned down the side road called 6th Street, Ruth noticed her iPad poking out of her shoulder bag. Ruth recalled that earlier she reviewed on her iPad news stories from Anton's past, one of which went like this, 'an unidentified NASA spokesperson speaking on condition of anonymity revealed that the agency possessed information linking Yakushev's signature to the wasting of taxpayer monies entrusted to NASA for serious research'. The statement veiled thinly an accusation of embezzlement or negligence or even a combination of the two: very serious charges indeed.

  By now, Ruth had concluded that these assertions were likely false. Since becoming his sponsor, Ruth had been his only accountant. She alone reviewed his expenses every six months. His expenses had not only been meagre over the years; moreover, they were incredibly consistent and seemed even to defy a sense of inflation. She wondered how he afforded to eat with expenses that low.

  He also submitted upon occasion, random expenses that seemed to defy logic. This time for example, Anton billed her for $104.53 worth of paperclips yet previously had never billed her for such an item. That this seemed an absurd requirement became even more outrageous when she discovered he had never billed her for paper ever. Did she, after all her life experiences, have the definition of the word paperclip wrong? To what did he clip them and why?

  As she pulled into his snowy driveway, Ruth resolved to give him the benefit of the doubt. It was only one occasion after all, and if she saw no sign of paperclips in his work today, then perhaps she would begin a search for a discreet medical doctor with hoarding addiction experience and 'get him in'! Alternatively, or conjunctively, she would enrol him in a PHA (Paperclip Hoarders Anonymous) group, and give the venture her full financial support.

  Innocent until proven guilty!

  As she turned the corner towards his farmhouse, she saw him emerge through his front door. Dr. Anton Vladimir Yakushev – Ruth's personal philanthropic project #1. She paid his wages and praised him as well. Did she have this all backwards? Was there a chance she was just a fool with money?

  "You made good time, Lady Ruth," offered Anton, with nary a trace of an accent. Ruth had initially theorized that his lack of an accent was probably due to his 150+ IQ. Anton, however, had told her that it was because he enjoyed American pop music and watching hockey on TV.

  As she carefully dodged a patch of ice on his poorly cleared driveway, Ruth knowingly replied, "Yes, I only had to arrive late by a full hour once, Anton. Now I arrange my schedule meticulously to avoid tardiness!"

  "Sorry about the driveway, but I rarely venture out – at least not until Natalia arrived."

  "That's fine, Anton, I anticipated this, but I did not anticipate that," began Ruth. Then, while she grasped his arm to avoid slipping, Ruth asked, "What's this about Natalia arriving? Isn't that your daughter's name?"

  Anton explained, "Yes, she arrived late last week from Florida."

  Suddenly Ruth made a connection, and stated, "Ahh! Of course, Christmas! How wonderful for you both. It will be a Christmas holiday and a reunion! I did not realize that you planned . . ."

  Concerned, Anton interjected, "Sorry for interrupting Lady Ruth, but she is not visiting on holiday – she has come to stay!"

  As Anton took her coat and hung it in the closet, Ruth queried, "Oh, well . . . is that a bad thing, Anton?"

  Cryptically, he remarked, "Based on what her mother explained as to the reasons why . . . I'd say very bad!"

  "That does not sound like a very good start, Anton," Ruth agreed.

  "Admittedly, Lady Ruth, I expect difficulties . . ."

  Looking towards the living room with concern, Ruth delicately interrupted, "Is she inside now?"

  "No, she called to say she has joined the volleyball team and they are playing after school."

  Ruth had previously noted that although Anton was nerdy; nevertheless, he was normally a very handsome fellow with many flattering wrinkles. As she sat down, she noticed that today he appeared worn out with prominent worry lines. She wondered how she could help. She asked, "Do you want to talk about it while she's not here then?"

  With a slow and thoughtful nod, Anton replied, "That is kind of you, but it really isn't your problem, and I must respect your valuable time."

  Suspecting he was being his typically reclusive self, Ruth decided to try hard to convince him of her sincerity. Quickly, she began, "I don't mind; besides, Anton, I'm sure you have detected before now that science is hardly my area of expertise. Even if I lack experience with children, surely you'd admit I'd be more useful chatting about one of them as to hear your detailed scientific postulations that we both know I will likely fail to understand anyways!"

  "But, Lady Ruth," he began.

  With a raised hand gesture, Ruth interrupted, "No, I insist; if you feel a need to discuss it, well then consider me an analyst for the next while, even if I just listen." Then she crossed her legs, sat back in the large comfortable easy chair, and inquired, "Is the tea ready?"

  Realizing that he had prepared tea, Anton, quickly replied, "Of course, where are my manners?" He added, "I'll be right back with the tea and biscuits," and then hurried to his kitchen

  As Anton left the room, Ruth glanced around at the sparse furnishings. If the contents of this room were a common example of his spending habits, then she need not worry. Clearly, he used her support to fund his research, not his comfort. Anton appeared to own essential furniture, and realistically, never decorated. As she heard him returning, Ruth wondered if perhaps Natalia would make a difference.

  "Well," began Anton, as he returned with the refreshments and offered Ruth his lone bone china cup and saucer. "I must say," he continued, while he filled the cup with tea and slipped a chocolate biscuit onto the saucer. Standing upright again, he concluded, "If you insist on assisting me in contemplating my parental algorithmic challenges, Lady Ruth, then I would appreciate it. I would also appreciate a woman's input. An adult female perspective is something I completely lack data for, and Natalia is quickly turning into one of them!"

  Hearing his response, Ruth raised her brow in surprise, demurely lowered it, smiled, and then candidly commented, "Excuse me but, that description sounds rather like you are referring to an alien species you have analyzed using the latest computer program, Dr. Yakushev!'

  As she sipped her tea, Anton sheepishly replied, "Sorry, Lady Ruth . . ."

  "Please," she interrupted. "How often have I requested you use plain Ruth?"

  Anton reasoned, "Fair enough, Ruth, but I must respect your title."

  "Thank you, Anton," replied Ruth, and then she smiled coyly. She secretly enjoyed his formality and respect; after all, her title originated from her family's aristocratic background. She also had few genuine friends – Anton, after all these years, had spent more time with her than most people with whom she associated.

  After a pause, Ruth watched as Anton's returned smile evolved into a frown. Suddenly, he declared, "My daughter is very angry, and I cannot determine why!"

  Nodding slowly in sympathy, Ruth encouraged him by interjecting, "I see."

  Relieved by his admission, and that Ruth still seemed interested, Anton immediately began to pace, and then explained, "Moreover, any unknown variable that I apply to the equation seeking a successful conclusion, only seems to produce an increase in the remaining number of variables possible to the potential solution – it is a challenging problem to say the least!"

  Realizing he needed considerable help, Ruth gently responded, "Yes, especially since Natalia is a person, and not a chemistry experiment."

  Ruth's frankness and direct approach created a slight pause in their discussion.

  After a sip of tea, Anton sat down, and remarked, "You are correct, of course."

  Ruth sensed another long pause was about to ensue. She delicately placed her teacup down on its saucer, stood up, walked over to him, and then smiled his way. Hoping to spark whatever human relationship memories this scientific lone
r genius had in him, Ruth touched his hand. He looked up at her and saw her warm smile. Suddenly, he felt he could continue.

  Slowly, Anton explained, "Until she was aged five, I felt I understood Natalia; yet, since our family break-up, I have rarely spent time with her – although not by choice, I can assure you."

  Gently, Ruth suggested, "Perhaps that is part of the problem – you no longer know each other. Perhaps you need to start again."

  Seemingly having made a similar conclusion, Anton lamented, "But where to begin?" Then he confessed, "Her mother identified several serious transgressions that Natalia had of late committed."

  Concerned, Ruth asked, "What sorts of things has she done?"

  Anton stood up, ran his right hand through his fine, sandy-coloured hair, and then explained, "According to her mother, in the past 18 months, Natalia has been expelled from two private schools and one public school – twice for violent behaviour and once for truancy."

  Trying to remember, Ruth asked, "She's just twelve, isn't she?"

  "Soon to be 13, in fact, but that is not everything," continued Anton. He began walking again, while he explained, "The final incident was a severe one. Natalia's mother explained that she hired a private tutor after the public school stint, in order to be sure of Natalia's whereabouts at all times."

  Returning to her seat, and her tea, Ruth remarked, "Good idea under the circumstances, I suppose."

  With a slight bit of sarcasm entering his speech, Anton added, "Yes, however, the evening after her first session, Natalia admitted she had burnt a hole with a cigarette into her tutor's very expensive rabbit fur jacket."

  Placing her teacup down again, but more hurriedly this time, Ruth exclaimed, "Dear me! Did she provide any explanation as to why?"

  "Indeed," began Anton. Befuddled, he revealed, "She claimed that she acted on behalf of the animal kingdom and that her tutor was a selfish bitch."

  Placing her opened hand over her chest in shock, Ruth responded, "Oh my – anything else?"

  Even more baffled, Anton continued, "Yes, she said that she wished that killer bunnies really existed to tear her tutor to pieces!"

  Confused, Ruth repeated, "Killer bunnies?" Then she admitted, "I'm not certain if I follow, Anton."

  Anton confessed, "Neither did I." Then, with probing sincerity, he turned to Ruth and cryptically explained, "Natalia said 'you really had to see the film' and that 'it was hard to explain without laughing'."

  Still confused, Ruth remarked, "I see; and what did you say to that?"

  Very serious, Anton firmly answered, "I assured Natalia, as her mother had, that the incident was not a laughing matter!"

  Impressed that he had been authoritative enough, Ruth responded, "Indeed; did she say anything further?"

  Deflated somewhat, Anton confessed, "Yes, she referred to her tutor as an 'ashtray-smelling asshole'!"

  Unable even to consider a second chocolate biscuit having heard such rowdy revelations, Ruth plunged forward, and declared, "Goodness! One can easily detect the anger there, Anton, but why is it there?"

  Agreeing, but no closer to unmasking the truth, Anton exclaimed, "Exactly, Ruth!" Anton began to pace, as the scientific analyzer in him returned. He reasoned, "Even if Natalia's assessment of the tutor's personality were reasonably accurate; nevertheless, both the destruction of her personal property and the threat of assault by killer bunnies – although, I suspect, purely conjectural – seems, by even the most minimal standards of decent behaviour, to be patently inexcusable!"

  Impressed and hopeful, Ruth asked, "Did you discuss it with her?"

  "I did ask," began Anton enthusiastically. Then, deflated again, he admitted, "But she turned mute and this she followed up with a period of sullenness."

  Nodding slowly as if in awe, Ruth responded, "I see."

  Slumping into his chair, he further confessed, "In turn, as usual, I lost my attentiveness thinking about my work."

  Probing, Ruth inquired, "Do you mean that you . . . ignored her for awhile?"

  Slowly, Anton admitted, "I suppose one might perceive it that way."

  Convinced she could form one conclusion accurately, Ruth remarked, "I suspect that an especially angry young teenage daughter might, Anton." Then she had an idea and stated, "Perhaps you should be attending her volleyball match right now."

  Anton stammered "Ahh," twice, and then reasoned, "You may be right, but of course, we scheduled our meeting for now, and we hold them only twice per year – I needed to be here for your arrival."

  Ruth queried, "Yes, but did you explain that to her?"

  Sounding somewhat ingenuous, Anton replied, "I mentioned I had an appointment to keep."

  Like a mother suspicious that her child was lying to her, Ruth asked, "Did you sound as insincere to her then as you did to me just now?"

  He plaintively admitted, "Fair enough, Lady Ruth, but then, I was not expecting to receive her as a permanent house guest. I have been on my own a long time."

  Forgiving him in her tone, Ruth responded, "Of course you have, Anton. It must be confusing for you!" She stood up, and suggested, "I'll tell you what; let's go and see her match and then treat her to a lovely meal on the town after, shall we?"

  Surprised, Anton repeated, "A meal?"

  Pre-emptively not wanting to embarrass him, Ruth clearly stated, "My treat, of course." Then she smiled and continued, "I assume there is a restaurant in the town?"

  In more of a confessing tone than a flippant one, Anton revealed, "There isn't even a town per se – there are several pockets of dwellings scattered throughout the township."

  Ruth queried, "And not a restaurant to be found amongst one of them?"

  Shaking his head, Anton replied, "I have no idea; regardless, what you are suggesting will make your eventual departure hour . . ."

  "Quite late, yes," interrupted Ruth. Then she requested, "I may need your guest room for the night by the time we conduct our business."

  Verbally stumbling, Anton confessed, "It has never been used, Lady Ruth, and it is spartan for one . . . even far less . . . distinguished than you."

  Pleased by his assessment, yet not wishing to appear conceited, Ruth fanned her hand in front of her face and remarked, "Anton, I can feel a blush growing."

  Plainly, he responded, "One need not blush at the truth – to the world, you are Lady Ruth, the famous philanthropist."

  "And just plain Ruth for the rest of the night," added Ruth demurely, as they both rose to depart. At the coat rack, Ruth asked, "Say, do you suppose Natalia might know who I am already?"

  As he gestured for her to exit ahead of him, Anton revealed, "I keep your relationship to me a secret. If she knows of you; it is because of the media."

  In order to avoid slipping in her high heels, she grasped his hand firmly, and confidently remarked, "We shall soon find out!"