Against All Odds

He stared at the ceiling. Heaviness in his chest pressed on his lungs making it hard to breathe. The room swirled in a nauseating way, blending into a color wheel of muted blues and office grays. The metal desk pushed back securely as he leaned onto it, the last soldier in the fight against gravity. Finally, he took a rough but full breath. The color wheel slowed revealing a haphazard office. Manilla folders littered the corners of the room and filing cabinets were agape. This was it, wasn’t it? The end. He could still hear the clang of beer glasses as his partner spoke passionately,

“To our new company!”.

Years of work, the dream, all finally materializing. The few investors fronting the first year’s start-up costs and rented lab space. The idea was big and as soon as they could scale up the reaction, this chemistry would change modern plastics. It would be a revolution. It was an idea he was willing to give up all of his earthly possessions for. All of his time. This was going to change the world. He knew it. Frank, his business partner knew it.

But here he was, kicking at the name plate on the ground as he mulled it all over.

“Henry Avillo, PhD”,

His name was engraved into the metal strip, looking sad and scuffed. Such a foolish venture. Henry thought back to how he first worried about this very outcome. Frank didn’t worry much, especially not about the chemistry. Frank was, after all, the confidence and the charisma. Henry never would have been able to secure the money to show proof of concept. Frank was just a believer and an actor, but he believed in Henry. This is what made their partnership so appealing. Henry was confident in his knowledge and the science, never doubts, just unsolved problems. It was having confidence in himself, where he struggled. The way Frank believed in Henry, made it seem, for a shiny moment in time, like they might pull this off.

The worries became reality, as after many months of work, a darkness settled over their lab. Frank grew anxious as they sat solemnly looking at the analysis results one after another. Henry would try to break the silence with a joke or a pep talk about all the other things they haven’t tried yet. He was met first with silence and eventually with disdain. Things were starting to fall apart. Before long, the end came as they sat across the table and negotiations were made. Henry was not ready to give up, how could he? What else would he do? He needed to continue trying, they were so close, he just knew it.

The only thing he could think to do is to buy Frank out to keep the lab rental space. Every penny he had ever saved, and a ten thousand dollar bank loan that he scarcely secured. He had four months. Four months before it was truly over and he couldn’t try anymore. He tried not to think of what would happen after, it would only distract him. Now more than ever, he needed to focus. This was the test of his perseverance.

Henry walked out of the lab to his tiny Toyota Corolla. It was cram-packed with boxes and hangers. A mangled flip flop sadly pressed into the back windshield. Is this what rock bottom looked like? His longtime friend and business partner just quit their company and their friendship. He just signed away all the money he had, and even more he didn’t have, and even had to sublet his apartment. He was living out of his car for god sakes! He looked back at the building and sighed. Staying in the lab was not an option. Henry had the daytime contract, but the main equipment and lab stations were shared by another group working during the night. Though a rough schedule, the nighttime contract was a substantial bargain for the same facility. Since the rent for the night contract was nothing to sneeze at despite the discount, there were strict codes about staying past your contract hours. In fact, part of the contract stipulated that intentional interaction between the two renters was highly discouraged. Working on proprietary chemistry had a way of making people paranoid. Henry didn’t dare get kicked out of the building or upset his co-renter, so he slept in his car. Parking it in a nearby neighborhood, where a dead end had a large grove of lilac bushes.

The next day, he awoke in a daze. A searing pain tore at his skull and his eyes hurt like they got too big for their sockets. Had he gone drinking? He felt like death and slept draped over the reclined front seat. He was parched and couldn’t remember a damned thing. As he lay in the blinding daylight, a memory of a man shaking his hand flashed in his mind. His eyes squinted open, and his gaze drifted onto a crumpled paper on the dashboard, a check. Suddenly soberer, Henry sat up and grabbed it.

“No way…” he croaked nearly inaudibly.

It was a personal check made out to him for twenty thousand dollars, from a Maxwell Sorenson. Henry struggled to recollect the night. He must have gone downtown alone? He got drunk with some man? He raved about the earth, humanity, and how he was certain about a new polymer which could potentially be a renewable source of hard and soft biodegradable plastics. Twenty thousand was an ill estimated sum that Henry’s mind conjured up for his total debt to this failed business venture and how screwed he was. But the man had a friendly face and together they cheered all night round after round like old pals. A friendly face?! What kind of crazy person gives someone that much money, especially at the bar? Henry gasped with an ever drier croak, “What did I sign?!” He scrambled to find some water and his mobile phone. He now did recall signing some kind of paper. How does he even call a man who gave him a check for 20 large at a bar??? Images of thugs answering the phone, him stammering about the money, being threatened with demands of illicit drug syntheses he agreed to, floated through his aching mind. This is why I don’t drink, Henry thought to himself.

“Shit…shit…shit!” He punched a pile of clothes in the passenger seat, “Pull yourself together Henry!” He pulled a washrag from a laundry basket in the back seat, dampened it with water and wiped the dried sweat from his face, chugging the rest of the water ravenously. Dialing the number scribbled on the check memo spot, Henry held his breath. It rang twice before a cheerful lady thanked him for calling the Norris Chemical Corporation, office of Maxwell Sorenson, and if she could help him today. Henry closed his eyes, breathing a sigh of relief and cleared his throat “Hi, I’m Henry Avillo…. I have a question about a contract I may have signed…um.. yesterday?” The clear and professional voice of the receptionist carried a reassurance and credibility Henry desperately needed. She informed him that even though Dr. Sorenson was not going to be in until the end of the week, Henry was welcome to stop by to get a copy of any contract he needed to. If he had further questions, he could schedule an appointment with Dr. Sorenson, though will be very busy for the next three weeks. Henry thanked the receptionist and wished her a good day. Click. The front seat squeaked as Henry slumped back into it with a groan, drifting off to sleep.

It was a “no-strings” investment as per the check, Henry was assured. But in the midst of passionate speeches and whiskey, Maxwell and Henry drafted an agreement on a cocktail napkin. That’s what Henry couldn’t quite figure out, because what two educated men would sign a legally binding contract on a bar napkin. But yet they had. Henry would see Maxwell exclusively if his polymerization worked. They would then draft the terms of his partnership and share holdings in the company or perhaps negotiate a price for the rights to the chemistry. If Henry succeeded, they would both greatly benefit. If Henry failed, at least Maxwell's investment into Henry's idea was a small and earnest one. Henry would always be welcome to apply for a job at the company, though Maxwell couldn’t guarantee it. HR at such a large corporation would not be under his influence. Seemed like a low risk agreement from where Henry stood.

The trouble with his work was that the catalysis required a really high but very steady heat to uniformly crosslink. The kicker was that the base material came from a new species of fungus discovered on an island off the coast of Louisiana. This fungus could grow on virtually anything short of chemical sludge and form complex and dense hyphae networks. The hyphae were rootlike, easy to harvest, and gave high yields of biomass. Many geneticists, biologists, and ecologists were excited about this new adaptation and marveled about how we are witnessing evolution before our very eyes. The general population couldn’t care less or simply didn’t hear about it. But Henry was a chemist. He wanted to solve problems with chemistry in real world terms, apply it to a problem and get a solution. In this case, this new species of fungi represented an opportunity. If the easy to grow biomass of this fungus could be broken down to basic monomeric blocks, they could potentially be re-polymerized. It would open up a whole new area of polymer chemistry that was not dependent on petroleum which was growing scarce. Breaking down the biomass into monomers, was his first success. But when it came to demonstrating how they could be polymerized again, was the roadblock that Frank could not bear. Frank quickly lost faith that it could happen at all. But Henry just needed more time. That’s what Frank didn’t understand and suddenly, his demeanor became cold and cynical. Henry’s confidence was shaken to its core and he couldn’t focus on the work anymore. Had Frank ever really believed in him? Henry contested his own thoughts. It didn’t matter any more. Henry had to believe in himself and see this through. Really and truly now was the moment. No turning back.

Still in a haze, Henry checked his hair in the review mirror. He looked rough, but no longer crushed with panic that he would have to move back to Northern Idaho with his parents. He was parked outside Maxwells office still, thankfully it was a huge campus and he took the time to recollect himself after a painful morning. Far enough away that his new business prospect would not likely witness his house-car disaster. This check had to be cashed quickly. When Henry bought Frank out, he neglected to think about reagents and costs of running the fast analysis through a local analytics lab. He didn’t have the time or resources to do it himself. But with this check, he could make these last four months really count. Right then. Cash the check, then to the chemical supply warehouse, and then the lab. He had work to do.

Unloading the car was hot, strenuous work. Liters of solvents, crates with delicate glassware. At least all the equipment and books were still in his office. Inside the lab, he looked around and saw his notebooks stacked on a bench. He picked up the last notebook and paged through the sheets. On the last page that fateful negative analysis report, that broke Frank’s faith, stared Henry in the face, mocking his failure. He needed a new notebook. He also desperately needed some lunch. After searching around the lab for a spare notebook, he came empty-handed to eat in his car. The front seat was so hot it could melt skin. Henry was sweating freely into his cotton shirt, feeling the heat radiate from the dashboard. How could he work if he can’t record anything? He stretched out into the back seat, rummaging among the items of his makeshift home searching for a piece of gum and saw something colorful under the seat. Not gum, but a neon pink leopard print notebook. He had to reach for it, but got hold of the binding, pulling it out to the front seat. When did he get this? Then he remembered. His older sister, bless her humor, loved to get him birthday gifts he would find obnoxious. This notebook was so his science didn’t have to be so serious. He laughed to himself thinking back to Frank’s face when he saw this item appear in the lab. I guess it didn’t suit his “vision” for the company image. He ran his fingers over the sturdy binding and opened it to the first page. The paper felt heavy, of decent quality, as he flipped through. It was a great notebook. Well screw Frank and his visions, Henry decided. This strange and neon colored notebook will contain Henry’s best work yet.

Hours blurred into days and weeks became hard deadlines for new samples to test. He scribbled his notes furiously and at the end of a particularly grueling day, sat staring at the ink, the detailed diagrams, the proposed mechanisms. There was so much more to try but two months have gone by faster than he could even blink. Despair mounted as no really obvious solution was presenting itself. The clock read nine and he had to leave. As a question to himself and maybe the pages of notes, he angrily marked out “WHY?!!!” into the page. It didn’t matter, some problems may not have solutions. Or perhaps he is not the one to solve it. He threw the pen into the binding and slammed the notebook shut. The stiff binding rejected this abuse and flipped back open as if to spite Henry. Angrily he stormed out to the parking lot. He was tired. It was still early but he needed to eat and get some sleep. Tomorrow was another day he still had to solve this thing.

He slept well into the morning, much past his usual time, waking with his right cheek encrusting his alarming watch. He groaned and checked the time, cursing to himself as he slapped his wrist to turn off the beeping. Time to face yet another day of anguish and no answers.

As he pulled up to the building, he felt a pang of shame. He must do better today. He went inside and saw his notebook still open. His unabashed despair was blatantly visible in fat black ink. But there was something else there now. A blue ink passage was tidily nested below his outburst. He stared in disbelief as he read the words.

“Wow, those are some meticulous notes and a cool notebook. Sorry to invade your privacy but this was open next to the centrifuge and I couldn’t help noticing your existential crisis. I promise I won’t steal your ideas, I have my own thing going. Your hypothesis makes really good theoretical sense, but have you considered that your metal catalyst is creating the very limited conditions for your synthesis? I know in theory it’s not supposed to be so narrow, but if you haven’t worked with it extensively, you might not know how much narrower those conditions really are for non-textbook applications. Interesting stuff though. Good luck with your work! - Night shift”

Dumbfounded, Henry re-read the paragraph. Was he still asleep? He wiped the perspiration from his face. The proposition perturbed him. Of course he has considered the conditions of his synthesis. Only a million times! But as his shock at the audacity of this person waned, a thought crept in. The blue ink was right in a way. The theoretical conditions were extremely narrow. But it should work if set up correctly. Frustrated, he paged through his old notebooks and the textbooks, looking for some kind of other reasoning. Hours went by and a nauseating emptiness of his stomach brought him back to reality. It was nearly 9pm, and he was still grappling with the idea of his catalyst. If this “night shift person” is right, this could be the direction he was looking for, he admitted to himself. He quickly jotted down an alternative proposal, and though it seemed too simple of a solution, what other choice did he have? He ended his reply to the blue ink with,

“What do you think? Maybe we can meet and discuss this in person?”. He was curious, who this bold individual was. Honestly he really just needed to talk to another chemist. Hell just another person would do. He turned off the lights and returned exhausted to his car. Henry went for a long drive along the river, thinking about how strange the last few days have been. Exhausted, he parked his car again behind the lilacs and slept deeply.

In the morning, Henry rushed to the lab and hurried to check the notebook. Elated, he saw a tidy paragraph of bright blue ink beneath his scribbles. Night shift was in agreement with his proposed changes. Henry felt like a giant rock just slid off his back. For the first time someone saw what he saw. The words gave him hope. But as he read further, his heart sank a little. His request for a meeting was denied. Blue ink simply urged him to do the experiments. So much for making a friend. His mind had already conjured grand dreams of finding a new partner. One who actually gave a damn about the work.

It didn’t take long for his mind to tuck away his curiosity for the blue inked pen pal, as he began setting up and running the new experiments. Somehow an entire month had passed by in a blur of work and sleep. He heard no more from the night shift, though he often left his notebook open in hopes of another message. Maybe he finally went mad and there was no night shift person. At this point, he would have believed it.

The following Thursday, Henry sat in front of an enclosed envelope. The analysis report had come back and he could not bring himself to open it. If this had not worked, this was over. The final blow to this whole house of cards he had built for himself. Henry opened the envelope. He read the contents of the report and viewed the graphs. He read it again and laid the papers down on the table. He cradled his face into his palms and wept loudly, tears rushing down his forearms and to the floor. It had actually worked. He had finally done it.

It took some time for Henry to collect himself and though he was in a wild daze, his mind was already calculating the next steps. He needed to clean up the lab and call that investor man, Maxwell. If this meeting goes well, he might be truly starting the company at last. As he was packing up boxes, he glanced at the pink notebook. He had not heard from his mysterious advisor and Henry could not shake the feeling of loss at the thought of walking away without properly thanking this stranger. After all, he would still be struggling to overcome an impossible task without the insights given by the blue ink. He decided to write one final note. Henry waffled over buying a cheesy greeting card, but pressed for time he decided to just use a tidy sheet from a notepad. He wrote as earnestly as he could.

“I respect your wishes to not meet or have further contact. But I had to at least say thank you in whatever way I could. You helped me out more than you probably realize and I can hardly express my full gratitude in writing. Based on your advice, I was able to successfully scale up my reactions. I have a big meeting with an investor fellow tomorrow morning and I expect to be moving out of this lab space by the end of the day. I wish you the best of luck in the exploration of science and know that you’ve given me invaluable perspective. If only I had a business partner with as sharp of a mind as you! Sincerely, Henry.”

He folded the note over and wrote “Dear Night Shift” on the top. He left the note on the bench, and with a sigh turned off the lights as he stepped out into the chilly evening air. He better get some sleep and prepare for his meeting. After all, this deal wasn’t sealed yet and he needed to make the best pitch of his life so far. Frank wasn’t going to be there to schmooze and dazzle everyone, but Henry was surprised at his feelings of confidence despite that. He realized that he didn’t need a salesman as much as he thought he did. If this Dr. Sorenson was willing to put his faith into Henry at his lowest and least impressive, this should be a hole-in-one. He looked at his shabby overfilled car and smiled at the thought of a proper apartment, a private shower, a soft couch.

The meeting with Maxwell Sorenson, went spectacularly well. Henry was to start assembling his team as soon as possible. It was a whirlwind of documents, hand-shakes, endless assistants and lawyers whose names all sounded the same by the end of it all. Maxwell, a big and jolly man, gave Henry a hearty hand shake and pulled him into a bear hug.

“Welcome to the team! We’re looking forward to the new adventure in polymer chemistry you’re taking us on, Captain!” He laughed and handed Henry a whiskey much too large for anyone who doesn’t drink often. They clanked glasses and enjoyed an extended moment of peace to celebrate the major happenings of the day. Maxwell had to take off for an international flight in a few hours, and Henry was thankful that he had escaped a possible night of extended celebrating with his new colleague. The one whiskey was plenty for him. He needed to clear out the lab space and cancel the rent agreement. Perhaps he would get a nice hotel room this weekend and look for apartments. A twinge of loneliness made him think about the future. Sure he had loads of business associates to meet and get to know, but he missed having friends and daydreaming about wild ideas over nachos and going to the occasional baseball game. Maybe he will meet some friends at the company. Maybe someday he will fall in love.

Clearing the lab and loading up the materials into the car didn’t take very long. He looked at the clock. It was 8:50pm. Not a sign of another human being around. It was as he expected. The blue ink confidant had no interest in meeting and the note was gone. Was it even real? Maybe he imagined the whole thing…Doesn’t matter now. It’s time to say goodbye to this place where so much had happened in a short ten months. As he clutched the pink leopard notebook, Henry scanned the lab space lingering a bit, ran his hand over the bench tops, and walked out the door for the last time.

Outside the building, a woman stood leaning against the brick wall. She smiled in an awkward but endearing way at him and quickly looked down as she fumbled with a pretty intense motorcycle helmet she was clutching. Henry stood there, staring in shock, unable to speak. It was her, the blue ink. She came to meet him after all. She finally lifted her gaze back at him, and playfully teased.

“Wasn’t sure you would ever wrap up in there. So you’re into polymer chemistry too, huh?”.