Chương 16: Book 1 - Chapter 15

From Fountainhead to Tulsa was a bit over an hour drive. Fortunately, it wasn't an early appointment. We arrived at 320 S Boston at 11am. Mom, Dad, Grandpa and me. Grandma and Mattie had decided to stay by the pool for the day. The law firm occupied a floor near the top of a classic ornate skyscraper. The air in the reception area was cool, quiet and smelled faintly of leather and lemon polish. The walls were lined with dark built in oak shelving holding rows of heavy legal tomes.

The carpet was a thick plush gray that muffled every step. It felt like walking into a high stakes historical library. We were immediately escorted into a large conference room overlooking downtown Tulsa. The lead attorney Mr Hollister, a precise man in a tailored suit, and his associate Ms Miller, sat opposite us across a large conference table. Dad and Mom were there, looking professional and serious. Mr Hollister cleared his throat, pushing a thick contract across the table.

"Mr and Mrs Cook and John, we have reviewed the University of Tulsa's scholarship offer. It is frankly unprecedented. Full ride, full living stipend, full books, everything. They are essentially investing in a prodigy."

"That is what Johnny is," Dad said, then cut to the chase.

"What clauses in the scholarship contract might present difficulties later?" Mr Hollister pointed to several sections.

"The school wants 25% ownership of any patents produced while John was a registered student, regardless of where they were produced. We were informed that 15% was typical, and this was only for work done as a student on campus.

"We also noted the clause that they would have exclusivity of John's name and image as a student for promotional use. While that wasn't too unheard of while John was a student, this exclusivity is permanent, which we think is excessive." Dad looked at me.

"Johnny, what do you think of these points?" I spoke directly to Dad.

"The patent thing is fine if they pay for the applications. I do need to have full control, though. If I invent something and want to make the patent public, I want that freedom without having to get the University to agree first. If it makes a ton of money, I don't mind them getting their cut.

"I think we need to change the housing allowance. We don't need them to rent the family an apartment to live in. Instead, how about they pay for a combo driver bodyguard—someone I pick. Getting to and from school safely and on time is more of an issue than just having a place to live. I remember the struggle it was to get on the bus at the end of the day at the high school, college students are even bigger." Grandpa nodded approvingly.

"That makes very good sense. Mr Hollister, please incorporate that idea." Mr Hollister made a note.

"We suggest reducing University ownership of patents to 10%, instead of the customary 15% then. In exchange you leave the wide scope and the University would pay for all patent applications. I'm sure their office would be happy to do that. Tulsa University does that in house already."

"That sounds like a good compromise," Dad agreed.

"For the exclusivity clause," Ms Miller added, "we suggest that the exclusivity remain while John is an active student. We believe that school promotion using his name and picture should be limited to ten years, but not exclusive after leaving the institution."

"That encourages them to keep John until he graduates. We also recommended a No Cause Cessation of the image promotion agreement by either party with a 30 day written notice," Mr Hollister concluded.

"And finally, we will add substituting the housing allowance for the driver/bodyguard allowance. Perhaps a vehicle allowance as well." Dad and Mom exchanged a look of satisfaction.

"They are all good suggestions," Dad said.

"We agree to have you write up a revised scholarship contract for submission along with John's TU application." Mom reached down beside her chair and lifted two thick manuscripts bound with plastic combs—one blue, one red.

"Before we go," Dad said, addressing Mr Hollister, "we have one final piece of business we need your firm's help with."

"Yes?" Mr Hollister inquired. Mom placed the two manuscripts on the table. The blue one was titled 'Seul sur Mars' and the red one 'Alone on Mars.'

"This is one of John's projects from his brief time in High School," Dad explained, looking proud.

"It is an amazingly detailed and accurate survival novel. John wrote it in French first for a French 2 requirement. The English version served as a writing assignment for his Senior English class. He needs help finding a literary agent capable of handling both French and English publishers." Ms Miller picked up the blue manuscript, her expression shifting from professional to astonished as she read the French title.

"A novel about Mars survival... written in French first? John, did you truly write this and translate it into English for school credit?"

"Yes, Ms Miller," I confirmed.

"I wrote both over a very long weekend." Mr Hollister exchanged a look with Ms Miller, clearly processing that their seven year old client had casually presented a dual language, hard science fiction novel.

"Well, I can assure you that our firm retains connections with some of the finest literary agencies in New York and abroad. We can certainly initiate that search immediately. We will make photocopies, and return these originals to you."

"Those are photocopies, you may keep them," Mom said.

"I'd suggest somewhere comfortable if you decide to read one. It is a gripping story." Ms Miller smiled.

"Certainly. Thank you, I look forward to reading the book." We left the law office and drove to a nice but casual restaurant near the University. We had informed Dr Thompson of our trip to Tulsa, so he had invited us to join him for lunch and then a tour of the campus afterwards.

"Hello, I'm Dr Thompson, Dean of Admissions and Dean of Clinical Psychology at the University of Tulsa," he told Grandpa as he was introduced to the man.

"I'm Joe Carpenter. John's my Grandson."

"It's wonderful to meet you. Mr and Mrs Cook, I'm so very happy that you let me know you were coming to town." He turned to me, his smile almost blinding, "Are you enjoying your summer vacation?"

"Very much, sir. I am particularly looking forward to the tour today." He clapped his hands together.

"Well let's have lunch first. I particularly like this place. They do some very good Mexican food," he said and led us into the restaurant. We set down in a big booth capable of accommodating everyone, and providing a bit of privacy for the conversation.

"So John, have you managed to relax yet? You seemed pretty exhausted at the graduation. The amount of work you generated in those four weeks is simply astounding."

"I'm enjoying the time off. Mom has insisted on a no school work break for the next week as we vacation at Lake Eufalla."

"An excellent idea," he said, directing the comment at Mom.

"I made everyone take a break," she told him.

"Just watching John power through all that work exhausted everyone I think." He laughed.

"Well, I hope the tour convinces you that Tulsa is the right fit. We're very excited about the possibility of you enrolling, but only if it really is what is best."

"Dr Thompson," Dad said, once the waiter had left, "we wanted to tell you now that we have accepted the scholarship offer. Our lawyers will be sending the final paperwork to your office this afternoon." Dr Thompson beamed.

"That is fantastic news! We are thrilled!" You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

"There are just some minor changes that needed to be made to the standard contract," Mom added.

"Minor changes are fine. What did the lawyers flag?" he asked, still smiling. Dad explained the three key modifications we had agreed upon.

"Our firm suggested a reduction in the University's percentage of patent ownership, clarified that post graduation name and image promotion would be non exclusive, and finally, we asked to substitute the housing allowance with a transportation with driver and security allowance instead." Dr Thompson sipped his water, considering the points.

"Hmm, patent percentages and image rights are certainly negotiable. The security allowance, given John's age and the publicity, is probably the most responsible choice. I think those modifications will be accepted, Ray. They strike me as very reasonable requests."

"We certainly hope so," Grandpa said, raising his water glass.

"To the newest student at the University of Tulsa." We all raised our glasses, and the conversation shifted to food and the upcoming campus tour. When we arrived at campus we started at the main administration building. There someone ran up and gave him a note.

"I'm very sorry," he said, folding the paper quickly.

"I was looking forward to giving you the tour myself, but something critical has come up. If you'll wait here just a moment, I'll find someone to give you that tour. But, unfortunately I really must go." He walked off, disappearing back into the administration building. A moment later, he returned with a young woman who was all smiles and bright colors. She wore a University of Tulsa sweatshirt and had hair the exact shade of sun bleached corn silk.

"This is Sarah," Dr Thompson introduced.

"She's one of our top History majors and a fantastic campus guide. She'll show you around. I apologize again." With a final wave, he was gone. Sarah crouched down slightly to meet my eyes, a huge smile on her face.

"You must be John! Oh my gosh, you are the cutest freshman we've ever had! Welcome to TU!" She straightened up.

"Mr and Mrs Cook, I promise I'll give you the full scoop. Let's start with the academic quad." We set off. Sarah was indeed bubbly, pointing out the Gothic Revival architecture of the main lecture halls and enthusiastically detailing the history of each building.

"Over there is the Kendall Bell Tower," she chirped.

"It rings every hour, and it's practically the heartbeat of the campus. And this whole section is where most of your Math and Science classes will be, John! They just upgraded the entire Physics lab, it's state of the art."

"Are the benches in the Physics lab still polished granite?" I asked, looking up at the building. Sarah stopped, momentarily surprised.

"Wow, you know that? Yes, they are! Hardly anyone knows that detail!" Dad chuckled.

"Now, Sarah, where are the Humanities buildings? I saw a plaque for the English Department."

"That's right up this way!" she led us toward a slightly older building covered in ivy.

"The classrooms are smaller and feel really traditional. But you guys have to see the library. It's my favorite place." She took us across a wide green lawn to the McFarlin Library. It was a massive, stately building, built of limestone, and felt cool and silent inside.

"The architecture here is gorgeous," Mom murmured. Sarah nodded proudly.

"It was modeled after the great European libraries. We have four floors, thousands of volumes, and an entire section dedicated to rare books and manuscripts. The whole university basically lives here during finals week." We spent a long time in the library. Dad kept drifting away into the tall, quiet aisles. I was utterly captivated by the sheer volume of information and the rows of heavy, leather bound encyclopedias and journals. When we returned to the administration building, Dr Thompson was waiting.

He looked relieved and excited.

"Welcome back! I have great news about the scholarship," he said, grinning.

"I am happy to inform you that the modifications have been received from the Law Office and have been approved! The scholarship contract is waiting for us at the administration building for signatures after I take you to meet the University President. He's very excited to have you, and insisted I bring you to his office so he could meet our youngest ever student." We gathered in his large office, his old cigarettes smoldering in the ashtray.

When the President shook my hand in introduction, I pointed at his cigarettes.

"Sir," I said, "If you don't quit those today, you'll be dead in five years." He gave me a disbelieving patronizing smile, as only adults can give children.

"Cancer?" He asked.

"Heart attack, instant, sudden and fatal," I insisted.

"Doesn't matter to me. I won't be here in five years," I said, waving the smoke from my face.

"Well I'll consider it," he said, then introduced himself to the others. After introductions, a staff member acted as photographer as first I signed, then my parents signed. Finally the President signed, and we shook hands again for the camera. Finally there was a group photo of Dr Thompson, my family and the University President. We shook hands with the President one last time as the photographer finished up. The air in the office still smelled heavily of smoke.

"Well, that's done," Dad said, sounding both relieved and amazed as we walked out into the hall. Dr Thompson stepped alongside us, his excitement barely contained.

"The biggest hurdle is cleared! And that warning you gave the President, John—bold! Very bold!"

"It was the truth," I said simply. Dr Thompson laughed.

"Indeed. Now, before you head back to Lake Eufala, I think we should finalize your enrollment. I have a list of options in my office that I want to review with you."

"You want to talk about classes now?" Mom asked.

"Absolutely. The sooner we map out John's course of study, the better," Dr Thompson insisted.

"I have everything set up in my admissions office. It won't take long, I promise."

"Alright," Dad agreed.

"Lead the way, Dr Thompson." We arrived at Dr Thompson's admissions office, which was much cozier than the President's. It was filled with psychology textbooks, framed degrees and clean air. We settled in among his books and papers, the atmosphere feeling much less formal than the President's room.

"Dr Thompson," I asked, "before we start, could I please have a Dr Pepper? That long meeting made me thirsty and my throat dry." Dr Thompson's eyes flicked to Mom to verify it was an acceptable request. Finding permission he smiled indulgently.

"Of course, John." He pressed a button on his desk intercom.

"Mildred, would you mind bringing a cold Dr Pepper for John? And maybe some coffee for his family?" A moment later, his secretary, Mildred, appeared, confirmed coffee requests and went off to fetch the drinks. Dr Thompson then slid a booklet across his desk, detailing the university's course catalog.

"Alright, John," Dr Thompson began, tapping the paper.

"With the paperwork signed, we need to map out your first semester. Given your unique test results and the provisions in your scholarship, you have total academic freedom. We aren't forcing you into introductory courses, I promise."

"I want a dual major: Chemistry and Mathematics," I stated immediately. Dr Thompson paused.

"That's a lot of work, are you sure?"

"I'm almost eight. I've got time."

"Yes, but that will be a heavy course load."

"I want to blast through the courses as quick as possible so I can then get into the lab."

"Why not just go work in the lab right now?" Dr Thompson asked.

"Have you seen me?" I asked.

"No one's going to take me seriously, unless I've put in the work. I have to have the grades first to show I know my stuff."

"Well, that's certainly possible," Dr Thompson agreed.

"We do have an excellent program for both majors, so no issue there. What do you want to explore in the lab?"

"I've been reading about superconductivity, but it feels like the current theory is missing something. I really want to investigate it and see what possibilities there are for high temp superconductors." I continued, tapping the math column on the paper.

"I also have an idea about Fermat's last theorem." Dr Thompson's eyes got big as I said this, but nobody else knew what I was talking about. He sensed this, and explained to the group.

"High temperature superconductivity would be a shift of unimaginable directions. It would change the very nature of the electrical revolution. Fermat's last theorem is the oldest unsolved mathematical puzzle. Doing either of these would be national, even international news."

"Nobel prize work?" Grandpa asked.

"No Nobel prize for mathematics, Grandpa," I answered.

"But perhaps in Physics if I can generate a new testable theory of superconductivity. A Nobel for Chemistry is a possibility too, if I can find a superconductor that works at a new higher temperature." The avarice in Dr Thompson's eyes for the reflected glory on the University would ensure I had full cooperation. He had heard my prediction to the current University President. He knew if I was right, five years wasn't that long of a wait to become the University President himself.

"So," Dr Thompson said, returning to the list. His voice was now imbued with a new, urgent focus.

"For this first semester, given your goals, I recommend Physical Chemistry I—you need this calculus intensive foundation in thermodynamics to begin your work in superconductivity—and Linear Algebra, which is fundamental to both advanced chemistry and pure mathematics. We will also need to satisfy your core requirements.

So, let's add Expository Writing, an introductory Western Civilization course, Modern German since your French is so strong, and a seminar in Cognitive Science for a practical application of your focus. That makes six classes, which is a full but appropriate load."

"That sounds great, but there is one thing really important to me," I said as I popped the top of the Dr Pepper can.

"What is that John?"

"I want the freedom to test out of classes. If I'm bored out of my mind, I don't want to have to drag myself through the class just to meet some credit requirement. If I can pass the test, I get the credit. Even if I take it the second day of class." Dr Thompson looked thoughtful, but not surprised.

"That's not standard procedure, John, as credit is usually tied to participation and attendance, but I understand your concern about pacing. Given your test scores and our investment, we are already committed to treating you as an exceptional case." He tapped the table once.

"Here is the compromise: You will be allowed to challenge the final examination for any course you feel you have mastered. If you pass the final with an A or B, you receive the full course credit. We will handle the logistics to ensure you don't have to wait for the end of the semester."

"That sounds acceptable," I confirmed, taking a satisfying sip of the cold Dr Pepper. Dr Thompson smiled, relieved.

"Excellent. Then we'll register you for these six courses starting this fall."