"That's the last one, son. Are you sure you've got everything," his dad said.
"Yes, I think so. Unless you can get me a desktop Cray computer," he said with a smile. His Dad gave him a hug and wished him good luck and left him to face his first semester at Woodbridge University.
Wilson Honeysworth was WU's youngest student ever. A lanky kid, and at 14 was smaller than most 14 year olds, standing only 5' 4" and 104 pounds. But he wasn't a bad looking kid, kind of like a young Michael J. Fox. Wilson had graduated High School at ten and after attending three years in a G.A.T.E . program he was accepted at WU with the highest entrances exam scores in the eighty year history of the school.
Wilson was genius in every subject you care to mention, but he shone brightest in theoretical and applied physics. Some privately though he was even more brilliant than Einstein and Hawking combined.
Wilson knew it wasn't going to be easy at college. He had never had it easy. All the other kids teased and tormented him. Even some of his teachers felt intimidated by my his intellect, but this was college and he hoped the other student would act more mature. He settled in and started classes. The first couple of weeks passed without a problem, other than the fact that the class work was little more challenging that the GATE stuff. He was looking forward to working with Professor Morrison in temporal time physics next semester.
The trouble really started on the day the Political Science professor posted the grades from an exam. He graded on a curve and Wilson's grade really made the other students look bad, especially Kirk Justice. Kirk was WU's star quarterback, he had two clear goals in life: NFL Quarterback and, after that, the US Senate. After taking one look at the test scores, Wilson became the biggest threat to Kirk's plans. Wilson's score pushed his grade to failing!!
Kirk had to do something. He was too little and scrawny to simple beat-up by trying to pick a fight, damn! He was going to have to use his brain. Kirk tried to tease and torment him with words and little annoyances. Wilson was surprised to find the harassment amateur at best, and nothing he hadn't seen before and certainly nothing to throw him off in his school work. Then Kirk had a brain storm, in the best tradition of politics he had an idea to send a torpedo Wilson's way and her name was Rachel. Rachel was one of the girls that Kirk kept in his stable. She was bombshell if ever there was one and Kirk talked her into exploding all over little Wilson. She was sultry brunette, standing 5 6" and generously curious from her full and pouting lips to her 38DD down to round butt and shapely legs.
"Get him to tutor you and than tease him till he can t think straight!" Kirk told her. She winked and told him that little Wilson won t know what hit him.
The university didn't think Wilson would fit in traditional dorm life, so they had helped him make arrangements to live in a rented room just off campus. His landlady, the widow of the school's former Biology chairman and a former full Professor herself in genetic micro-therapy. Dr. Tilda Fornel was a nice, but quiet woman of 67, used to the eccentricities of academicians. She had fully retired from the university world after the death of her husband and teenage daughter about twenty-nine years earlier. She left Wilson pretty much to himself. She always kept a dinner warm for him when he didn't get home from the physics department. Which was often. Wilson had pretty much moved into the lab.
The boy had arrived at the university in early June, giving himself a full three months before the start of the fall semester to work with and get acquainted with Dr. Morrison. Morrison, an oldish man in his late 70s, took an immediate shine to Wilson. Perhaps he saw himself at the same age. Whatever his motives, within weeks, he and Wilson were working together as if they d been doing it for years. Also a member of the Morrison "click" was Daphne Shellworth, a brilliant theorist in quantum physics. She was very tall at 6'5", a thin and lanky girl, awkward around anyplace but a lab. Working on her doctorate, her research skills and analytical mind made her Dr. Morrison's right hand for the past six years.
With her ever-present white lab coat and heavy black-frame glasses, stringy mouse brown hair and features that even a mother could only describe as "interesting," Daphne, at age 26, had already resigned herself to the single life and therefore devoted herself totally to her work. They made quite a sight to anyone who passed the lab. Dr. Morrison, portly and bald, generally wearing last night's dinner on his coat; Daphne, scratching her ear with a piece of chalk until it was almost permanently white; and young Wilson perched on a stool staring at the equations the three had been writing and arguing over for hours.
Morrison had theorized that time travel was possible, but not in the sense of H.G. Wells. He believed that time travel to the past was possible and practical given that it meant moving from one fixed point in the time-space continuum (the present) to another fixed point in the time-space continuum (the past). The future was not possible Morrison felt, since there was a place to leap off, but no place to arrive to. Evidently Hawking didn't think much of his theory, since the last time they argues about it, Hawking took fifteen minutes to work himself into giving Dr. Morrison the raspberries. If Morrison was the brain, it took Wilson and Daphne to come up with a practical application for a theory.
"What's the point of theories, Dr. Morrison," Daphne said. "If you don't try to prove or disprove their validity." Wilson, caught up in the moment's argument, ran to a board and erased three weeks worth of equations in his fervor to sketch out a means of proving or disproving their theories. In a feverish 72 hour stretch, the three worked on constructing a Temporal Time Displacement Accelerator. As the semester started, the team began assembling parts for the TTDA. Classes were something Wilson attended rather perfunctorily. He would have tested out of his classes if his professors would have let him. As it was, he d sit in class, writing and making computations, and making straight 100s on every test without ever paying attention.
By early September the team had begun constructing their device. Morrison kept insisting that form didn't matter as long as it worked. The device was a rectangular box approximately seven feet high and nine feet long. Cables like a mass of black spaghetti erupted from all over the device attaching itself to bank after bank of computers and other materials. Because Dr. Morrison was a Nobel-Laureate in physics, he had the access and pull to get materials and equipment that would have been beyond the university's budget. Without telling anyone (Why worry them), Morrison secured an experimental nuclear fission power source.
FAILURE AND SUCCESS
They were well into October, when disaster befell the team. They were standing around the blackboard arguing, after fourteen tries at getting the TTDA to function had failed. Daphne had raised an obscure point in theoretical mathematics, when Dr. Morrison stopped in mid-sentence and rubbed his forehead.
"Are you all right?" Wilson asked.
"Yes, my boy, I seem to have a headache," he replied. A moment later he slumped to the floor. While Wilson held the old scientist's head in his lap, Daphne called 911. Morrison had a stroke, a serious one. After spending all that night at the hospital, and most of the next day, Daphne and Wilson were told by a doctor to go home.
"There's nothing you can do for Professor Morrison right now. He needs his rest. He's suffered a severe stroke, but I think he's out of danger. His left side is paralyzed and he can t speak. If you come back in a couple of days, I ll let you in to see him, but not before." Wilson and Daphne returned to campus. Almost by mutual agreement they didn't see each other for a couple of days.
KIRK S PLOT
True to her word Rachel set out like a cruise missile. She got Wilson's phone number from a student aid in the records room and called him.
"Hi, is this Wilson?"
"Yes, who's calling please."
"Hi, my name's Rachel Murning. You don't know me but, I've heard your the smartest guy on campus. And I really need some help understanding calculus. Do you think you could spare an hour to help me out." With the failure of the experiment and Dr. Morrison's stroke, Wilson had a lot a time on hands. He felt he could spare an hour or so, besides she sounded cute. He agreed and nearly fell off his chair when he she told him to come over to Sigma Iota Phi. Even he knew that you had to beautiful and stacked to be a Sigma lota Phi!!!
"Great! I ll see you at 4 p.m." Wilson's eyes nearly popped out of his head. As he walk passed the entrance, there were girls lounging everywhere and wearing practicality nothing. It was like something out of a T&A film. He sat down and all the women gathered around him and flirted intensely with him. The smell of their perfume and the closeness of so many beautiful and sexy women had his head was racing and his heart pounding. Then, like the parting of the Red Sea, the women moved and there was Rachel. She was wearing skintight workout short and top.
"Hi Wilson! Thanks for coming over to help me with my studies. Come on, lets go up to my room." She said and took him by the hand pulled him out of the chair. Wilson found it very hard to walk and a cover his hard-on at the same time. They went up to her room and he sat down, feeling very uncomfortable about being aroused. It's not that he hadn't been aroused before, just never in front of a real live girl. Not mention ten of them.
"You don't mind if I change into something more comfortable do you." She innocently, but with a wicked smile on her face. She stepped into the bathroom and purposely left the door open a little so if Wilson looked he could catch a glimpse of her changing. Her every action was choreographed to be as She slung out of the bathroom, wearing a pair of silk shorts and matching crop top, she had removed her bra and her large heavy breasts moved provocatively beneath thin material.
"You know Wilson your very cute. I'm going to find it hard to keep my mind on my studies." She said as she sat on the bed in a coy pose.
"Wha ... what do you mean?" He finally managed to croak.
"I like you Wilson! I've been dating that macho Kirk, but all he ever talks about is sports. I think I could like a silent intellectual type like you for a change," she said as she took him by the hand and led him over to the bed.
"Would you like a soda?" she asked.
"Sure." With her back to him, Rachel shook the can as hard as she could. When Wilson popped the top, he was sprayed with jets of cola.
"Oh, Wilson, I'm so sorry, You're clothes are covered." Rachel innocently offered to let Wilson use her shower while she threw his clothes in the washer down the hall, that way, she said, they could study while his things were cleaned. Wilson took his shower, but had nothing to put on, so he stayed wrapped in his towel while he started to explain elementary calculus to Rachel, who all the time, ran her finger seductively around his ear.
"Wilson?" Rachel interrupted. "Would you like to kiss me? I mean, if you'd like to, that would be okay with me?"
"Really?" he stammered.
She nodded her head seductively and started to rub her hand up and down his naked and hairless chest. He felt his penis stiffen as Rachel moved and pressed her large soft breast against his arm. He was paralyzed. She proceeded to strip the towel off poor Wilson whose 14-year-old body was willing to make up in lust what it lacked in size.
"My," Rachel purred and she took him in two fingers. "I've never seen one this small and cute before, and so little hair. Not like that big old hairy Kirk. I ll bet your going to be quite a man when you grow up."
At that moment the door burst open and in came Kirk.
"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING WITH MY GIRLFRIEND!" he yelled.
Rachel leaped and squealed, "Kirk! It's about time you got here!"
"So Brainiac, messing with my girl. It's not bad enough that you wreck my grades. I ought to kick your skinny ass all the way across the quad."
Kirk began slapping Wilson across the face, neck and shoulders. Wilson was soon crying in pain, knotted up in a fetal ball on the floor.
"Don't hurt him, Kirk," Rachel yelled. "He's just a kid."
"Yeah, you're right, he's not worth getting in trouble with the Dean over. All right twerp, you ve got five seconds to leave."
Wilson staggered to his feet, tears in his eyes and nose blooded. "I need my clothes," he said.
"Well you should have thought of that before you tried to put that pitiful teeny-weenie into Rachel. Git!"
"But my clothes ...." Wilson insisted.
"I ll give you clothes," Kirk smiled as he threw Wilson the towel. "Put that on."
Wilson started to wrap himself in the towel, when Kirk stopped him.
"No, I want you to pull it through your legs and knot it on both sides like a diaper. It's either that or walk home naked. Make up your mind."
Wilson, white as sheet, tied the towel around his loins. Kirk picked up his baseball bat and swung it at Wilson's head. Wilson leap out of the bed after the bat had passed over him and he darted for the door and down the stairs. The place was still filled with the sorority women, but now they were laughing cruelly.
He ran, naked but for his diaper towel, out the front door where Kirk's frat buddies were waiting with buckets of cold water and doused him. The door behind him closed and locked. The frat guys disbursed laughing.
Standing there drenched, he heard Rachel calling his name. Looking up, he saw Rachel and Kirk in the window, fondling and kissing each other. Then she stopped and threw a bundle out to him. It was his clothes, wet and tied in knots so hard, he couldn't get them untied. Picking them up, he walked slowly across the campus toward his boardinghouse, oblivious to the laughs and taunts being directed at him.
continued in part 2