Doctor Keija Frampton and Belinda Gummer sat down for lunch at the Mercier Hotel. They each ordered salads and pushed little tomatoes around on their plates. The glow of the place gave them a sense that they could keep going with their meals and still feel the ambience of the setting. They laughed and smiled here, they looked at each other with straight faces there. They were like two school friends linking up from days past and enjoying the other’s company. Even when they disagreed.

“A beaker is more important than eyelashes,” Belinda announced in between bites.

“I beg to differ. And Miss Deaver’s songs are more important than Professor Ogleby’s mathematical problems.”

“That I can agree with…slightly. Miss Deaver is popular but she’s not 

“Just think about the women who have baby hairs and eyelashes and our UltraChip. They can customize them however they wish. Color, size…it doesn’t matter, it's for their self-esteem.”

Belinda's eyes widened. “Yes, but what about the young female construction worker already trying to be feminine in a male-dominated world? She’ll spend all her money on cosmetics and not have enough, when the scientist in one of our labs would love to have a new beaker to use. What then?”

Dr. Frampton looked up. “That could be true, but we must always remember that the idea is of and for the marketplace. If there is a higher demand for those lashes, then that should be the case. It doesn’t mean that the scientist is any less worthy of the dollars that flood into laboratories across the land.”

The low roar around the room seemed to insulate their conversation. Though serious in tone, there seemed to be a playful jousting amongst the two business partners and friends.

“So, you’re saying that there is a difference between the various amounts of material used in scientific endeavors and the way that cosmetics are sold?”

Belinda asked this question with a raised eyebrow.

The sigh that Dr. Frampton let out could have hushed a room of thousands.

“All I’m saying is that we have to have a greater interest in the fact that there will always be beakers and young women who want to be confident and selfish in their appearance. It may show where someone in a lab coat designs a specific code for how to cure every malady known to man. I think, though, the young woman who wants the eyelashes will make that a billion dollar industry versus the beaker economy.”

Belinda looked at her friend. “If there is anything that would have made those eyelashes, it was probably done in a lab, possibly with beakers. We must both know that much.”

“So, I’d say that there is a good chance that there is a piece of the idea that with both items, there is a place where both can flourish and become part of the arena of exceptionalism.”

“‘The arena of exceptionalism…’ that’s quite a leap from the idea of adhering lashes to your face or swirling around liquids in a beaker. It’s all about the market value.”

“Is this market catering to the young woman with the lashes or the young woman with the beaker?” Belinda asked.

“The market is what sets the price and the need or desire for such items. It is the sole judge on what is supposed to be a free market. We live in that now. Yet there are winners and losers. Sometimes, we see that the losers should have won. But it’s still justice. The way that we view the amount of dollars flowing into beauty care companies and how people react to them will most likely always outweigh the want for lab equipment,” Dr. Frampton replied.

“Thanks for the womansplaining, by the way!” The two women shared a laugh. Then their tones shifted again. 

“This is about the future of this company, the country-state, hell, even the other states and the world. We can’t focus on just a few things just because it makes someone feel good about themselves….” Belinda trailed off like a train disappearing from sight.

“Oh! It’s about the individual. I know you know about that. We’ve staked this country on the individual. If eyelashes create a sense of esteem and can be bought at a reasonable price, goddamn the science labs. Even ours. Even if the lab materials are more ‘important’ than the eyewear.”

Belinda looked at her friend for a long time. She studied her eating habits. She pushed the cucumbers into a little stack and arranged the lettuce among the croutons in neat fashion.

“Keij’, I know we’re not seeing eye to eye, pun 

 intended. We must come to an agreement on all of this. We must come to a place where we both can benefit from this little spat.”

“Well, difference of opinion. ‘Spat’ is shorter.”

Dr.Frampton cleared her throat. “If I am able to show you what you already know, it’s not a spat. It’s a reminder. You know good and well that there is a market for everything. Because you have chosen to not see how the market works, it is only my job to clarify.”

“Yes. When we see millions of young women, working as office assistants making more money than their ancestors could have dreamed of doing the same job, we have to remember they possess or ought to possess some sense of idealism about themselves.”

“Of course,” Dr. Frampton replied. “Our company is dedicated to that very proposition: ideas. It may give these young women the chance to fully identify with themselves and hold onto some semblance of self in their work.”

Belinda’s sauvignon blanc found its way to her lips. She sipped it casually. Now, she sighed. 

“We really must be talking two languages right now. We’re scientists before we’re entrepreneurs. I love money. But I love 

 money. The fact that you have to produce in order to reap the benefits of the cash you have in your bank account. We’d be nowhere without beakers, testing out the proper lubricants that make the learned machines; the alloys that make their existence possible still register highly for me. I respect those who turn a profit to make young women prettier. Trust me. I was there when I dropped out of high school. I had to cake my face and put on a toothpaste smile just to wow people at various fairs and conventions. I know the life.”

“So, why are you not allowing yourself to be part of this specific thought that eyelashes and other cosmetics are for young women, too? Why’d you go off in this harangue about your early days selling products with makeup on your visage if you aren’t going to acknowledge their import right now?”

“I just don’t want to be associated with that right now. That was the past. And it has passed. It had died away in my soul. I’m about the now, new, and the next. That’s science. That’s UltraSynth creating premium products that shape the lives of everyone from able athletes to quadriplegics. That’s what I’m concerned about. That’s what you should be focused on at this exact moment. Not some office girl who has little prospects and few options to advance in her role.”

Dr. Frampton became incensed. “How dare you, Bel’?”

“How dare I do what? You come flashing your doctorate degree pretending to care for the class below us and you are now some ambassador for them.”

“You didn’t have to at all. It’s in your tone of voice. How you’re pooling your tomatoes together.”

Dr. Frampton drank the same wine as Belinda. “Look, I know you’re a wunderkind. You came fresh out of high school into the pros technically. My doctorate is something I earned but it doesn’t define me. I’m Keija. You know that. I’m for the other classes because they are the ones in the market who purchase our products. They have achieved financial statuses that afford them to get a synth or a learned machine. That’s the beauty of all this.”

Belinda darkened. Her face looked dour. She sipped her wine with every bit of daintiness and leisure, however. She didn’t speak for a long time. As she chewed her lettuce, she felt like a lioness who had just been challenged by another lioness and now she was licking her wounds. She looked up into Dr. Frampton’s eyes.

“You know, I thought I could just think about the way that our company is run. With your perspective, you actually make it better than it was before. The ‘Synth’ part makes it better. I will struggle with our disagreement on this particular situation. But I will get past it. Once more, it’s passed. The death of an idea is worse than the death of a person sometimes. When someone dies, all of their secrets and notions go with them. When an idea dies, it can only be revived if there is someone willing to spark the flame that it  once carried,” Belinda explained.

“You’ve been doing a little womansplaining yourself, I see,” Dr. Frampton retorted.

“That's all we can do. Hell, there’s men with eyelashes and baby hair. The industry is open to all kinds of people. How can I not respect that? How can I not say that the people who are behind these companies, some of which we both know personally, don’t have the proper right to be leaders in the marketplace?”

Dr. Frampton chuckled lightly. She gazed around the room at the various faces. Most of them had aged and been in their late nineties and still looked just as spry and youthful despite their advanced age. She knew that this was because of some scientist’s beaker. Then she peered at the young women with the eyelashes and baby hair. Their smiles dazzled as they conversed. A smile found its way onto Dr. Frampton’s face. The blue-green carpet even made a great accompaniment to the patrons of the place. It reminded her of the Earth, holding onto the contents of the globe.

“We can start to see eye-to-eye, now,” Belinda admitted. I’m not going to bash anyone for making a dollar. Ever. I don’t care if they sell razor wire or prophylactics. It’s all in the market. That’s all. We’re going to be amongst the initial people to start a crusade for the market since it is free now. I support rehabilitation centers and have stock in many of those companies. I have to support the manufacture, consumption and use, but not abuse of drugs like cocaine, heroin, and crystal meth. Just as that young woman wanted to get her hair and eyes done, so should any adult over the age of seventeen be allowed to do so. I’m glad there is finally a free market for the substances and the rehab facilities to aid people who use them.”

“Okay. We’re getting off course, but I understand what you’re saying. Where there was no market for such substances, there now is and crime couldn’t be lower. We’re very close to understanding each other. We’re close to getting a clearer view of the way that the markets move. We’ve both known for years about how it functions, but why it functions sometimes is a mystery to even us. The maestros like Covey have expounded upon the creation of new life saving drugs, and life destroying drugs if used incorrectly. The eyelashes and the beakers bring us to a point where we can see the clear distinction between the two and the value of each. It just comes down to the person. It comes down to whether or not we’re willing to admit the power that these products have and the amount we should care about them.”

Belinda sipped her wine. She smiled with the glass up to her lips. She was like a desert thirsty adventurer finally drinking water. By her imbibing, she felt a bit of a buzz but not too tipsy. She then held the glass in the air as a toast.

“To the system of value,” she remarked.

“Hallelujah,” Dr. Frampton replied. They clinked glasses and sipped.

Chintan Jani

Smartystan

Exceptionalism 

Doctor Keija Frampton and Belinda Gummer sat down for lunch at the Mercier Hotel. They each ordered salads and pushed little tomatoes around on their plates. The glow of the place gave them a sense that they could keep going with their meals and still feel the ambience of the setting. They laughed and smiled here, they looked at each other with straight faces there. They were like two school friends linking up from days past and enjoying the other’s company. Even when they disagreed.



Smartystan

Exceptionalism

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Exceptionalism

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