Prime Slime
Chapter 7: Slime Conference

Big Sky, Montana was the setting for the World Biofilm Conference, held every summer in a remote area in the Northwest. Located in the southwestern corner of the state, Big Sky is an alpine ski and golf resort, ideal for outdoors types. The location made sense, since Montana State University in nearby Bozeman was the world center for biofilm research. Nearly 200 scientists had gathered to learn the latest on slime. The schedule offered three full days of presentations by international experts, including the big guns in biofilm research. These were the only “guns” that would fire at this meeting.

Conferences are occasions for the exchange of ideas, but not everything was on the table here. Scientists once expressed their ideas freely to foster collaboration and scientific progress. But, in the current climate, they dared not disclose their discoveries. Even with patent protection, it was prudent not to reveal company secrets. Once in the hands of copycats, patent protection was diluted. Hence, interaction was guarded, and the threat of intellectual property theft stymied collaboration. The lack of honest exchange put in to question the very reason for meeting.

Nevertheless, the time was ripe for interchange, and scientists can’t help themselves; they need to bounce their ideas off one another. Huddled together for a few days with no distractions, at the forefront of a scientific revolution, it was impossible not to share. This occasion went beyond mere emails and phone calls. At conferences, scientists bond in ways that increase insight and redefine focus. They also get to gauge the competition up close.

For Evan, these were major growth spurts. He had forged several fruitful collaborations over the years at such meetings. He was eager to share his groundbreaking work with colleagues, and make key connections, without divulging his secret recipes. Evan might be an open book, but he wasn’t stupid.

Why anyone would go to a ski resort in summer to talk about slime was beyond comprehension. Being a slime expert might not sound glamorous, but at this meeting it was way cool. Inventing an agent that could solve the slime problem was even more attractive. Slime was problematic in medicine, dentistry, agriculture and other industries. It even caused problems in outer space, which is why NASA grew interested in MIFF. Navy scientists also considered MIFF in anti-fouling paints to prevent drag on their ship hulls.

Scientists throughout the world were keen on Evan’s work, since current drugs against slime were ineffective or toxic. Corporate and academic scientists sought him out. Scientists in the personal care, house and garden industries were interested in MIFF. The slime-riddled pulp and paper industry was also in need. Even the cement, ceramic, silicone and plastic companies were considering Evan’s anti-slime technology. This conference marked a turning point in his career.

There was more than one reason why Evan stood out at this conference. First off, he towered over most everyone in stature. He was also not a geneticist, which was the current fad. Geneticists were opening new doors with molecular tools, and dominating the biological sciences. Instead, Evan sought simple, practical, inexpensive solutions, which rendered moot most of the high-flown research at this meeting. It wasn’t high tech, but closer to cracking the code than all the genetics in the world. Still, a little help from key collaborators and corporations could shift MIFF to the next level.

Things did not start off well on the first morning. Evan arrived a bit late and barely awake, after a late night at the hotel bar. Sipping on a double café latte, his eyes were opening to the day. The room was filled to capacity with scientists. Audiovisual equipment cluttered the corridors. He made way to an empty seat in the back row, stepping on a few toes in the process. The last seat available was between two big, bosomy women, so his range of motion and vision were quite restricted. Evan scanned the back of a few heads in front of him while listening halfheartedly to the speaker.

Though sleep-deprived, Evan’s radar for the female sex was on high alert. Unfortunately, physical beauty was rare at these conventions, but Evan could detect it like a hawk its prey. Creativity and intellect were wonderful attributes, but Evan could not make love to them. The only thing that could get his mojo working on this particular morning was the smell of a woman.

Though a good man otherwise, Evan’s ethics were suspect when it came to sex. He saw nothing wrong with casual relations, given mutual consent and precautions for safety. Sure, he was shallow, but not immoral. With so many available and agreeable women, having just one seemed absurd. Plus, his prior encounters rarely ever amounted to much. He hadn’t yet met his match.

With his laser beam on full focus, Evan caught a glimpse of a tall woman up front, with a black braid falling down the back of her chair. He sensed beauty instinctively, even from behind, or from any angle. The speaker’s voice faded further into the background, as Evan maneuvered for a better look, once again disturbing his two portly bookends.

A timely coffee break broke the spell, as people hurried out into the hallway. Evan could not recall a single word spoken from the lectern. His sole intention was toward the braided beauty, so he positioned himself near the aisle as the room cleared. The object of his attention rose from her chair, turned around, and did not disappoint. She appeared Middle Eastern, tall and dark with strong facial features; yet every bit as beautiful as Evan had imagined. Several men turned to stone as she passed. Such beauty was lethal at science gatherings.

Walking beside her was a pre-eminent scientist, whom Evan met the year before, though the name escaped him. He was super attentive, whispering frequently during the presentation, and monopolizing her time. Up close, the man appeared many decades her elder; more like her father than her lover. Still, the young lady found him engaging, like a student towards her mentor. An astute observer could see that he was powerless in her presence.

As attendees left the room, Beauty and her escort slowly approached Evan’s perch. They were discussing the lecture and how it impacted her research. She sounded informed and ernest, from what Evan could discern. He kept an eye on her through the moving crowd, trying to recall what dream he had seen her in. “Beauty, intelligence and passion; what a concept!” he thought.

Like a snake in the grass, Evan waited patiently. He watched her pass by in slow motion. With all eyes upon her, she seized the aisle, and managed it gracefully. Momentarily catching his eye, Beauty offered Evan an inviting smile. He looked away quickly to avoid melting.

The break provided opportunities to mingle. He followed her out to the coffee area like an alley cat, stalking her from a distance. He was drawn to her, but afraid to approach. He was much older as well, but she made anyone look old in comparison.

Sensing the attraction, she approached from across the room. Effortlessly, she cut through the crowds in line for coffee.

“Hi. I’m Jessa, Jessa Playting. This is my first Biofilm conference. How about you?” Her broken English belied a middle-eastern descent.

“This is my third year,” he responded. “And the third year they’ve held it. The science of biofilms is relatively new.”

“I am new to this country, too.” She had recently arrived from Lebanon. Her husband sent for her after starting medical school in the US. Sadly, the arranged marriage commenced on an unhappy note, for she regretted leaving her friends and family in the old country. Unwilling to disobey her father, Jessa was disquieted with her circumstances. She was stuck in an unfortunate marriage in an unfamiliar setting, and eager for real love.

“I’m Evan, er, Lucian, Dr. Evan Lucian from Burrstone Medical.” He pointed to his badge, having poorly articulated his name.

“I did some training at your school with my mentor, Dr. Wanabee. You know, the professor I sat with this morning. I am from Yale Medical Center in New Haven, not far from you.”

“Two hours by far or kerry, I mean, car or ferry,” Evan responded. “We’re neighbors.” His English seemed more broken than hers. It was difficult to breathe with her so close. He desired closeness, and could barely keep up appearances.

“Montana is unfamiliar to me. Are you a cowboy, Dr. Lucian?” Jessa’s playfulness took off some of the edge.

“Heavens no! It’s Hicksville to me too, Jessa. I’m a city boy.”

“Then why are you talking like a cowboy?” Montana was apparently bringing out the Texan in him. He spent four years in the Lone Star State procuring his doctoral degree.

“Are you a movie star?” Evan asked, “Or a model?”

“No, but I play one on TV,” she giggled. “We watch American movies in Lebanon all the time.” Suddenly she became homesick. A moment passed before she continued.

“I would prefer a big city, where the wine is fine and we could dance into the wee hours. It’s been a while since I’ve had fun.” The pretenses faded as she spoke, exposing her deep unhappiness. She secretly yearned for rescue.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“Yes, I’m fine,” she assured him, with a forced smile. This was a damsel in distress if he ever saw one. He knew the game well.

“There’s a dance tonight at the Big Barn. Would you care to join me?” He was amazed at his sudden boldness.

With that, her gaiety returned.

“Perhaps I’ll see you there, Doctor.”

“Please, it’s Evan.”

Just then, Dr. Wanabee approached from the crowd with two cups of java. Jessa took one as she introduced the two men. Both made a reserved gesture toward one another. After an awkward pause, Evan excused himself and quickly exited.

With little else to do, most conference attendees joined up at the dance that evening, in the main dining hall of the conference hotel. The band was playing, as the evening meal was being served. Evan and Jessa spotted one another from across the large room. They maneuvered their way through the crowd toward one another, and then toward the dance floor in front of the band shell.

This band was the real deal, with cowboys playing fiddles, washtubs, spoons and assorted utensils. They performed old country tunes, some more hokey than others. Jessa was even less familiar with the music, but slowly got into it. Evan shook off any reservations and joined in the fun. They worked their way onto the dance floor, which broke the ice and drew a crowd of couples. They danced to several songs in a row, some fast, some slow. He turned her on to the Texas two-step, after remembering how to do it. A growing circle of couples two-stepped around them.

It was hard to believe this was happening, how quickly and effortlessly they were joined together. It had to do more with her longing than anything Evan did. His best approach was to say nothing and let her lead. Given their cultural differences, the quiet, unassuming approach seemed to work just fine.

When the band took a break, Evan followed Jessa and the crowd outside, where it had grown dark. The large yard behind the banquet hall was glowing from a huge bonfire, where a hundred geeks and nerds roasted marshmallows and talked science. Jessa had never eaten one − much less one burned on a stick − and enjoyed it like a child. Chocolate bars were provided to melt on the marshmallows, which Jessa approved of gleefully. Her happiness pleased Evan greatly.

The two had eaten enough S’mores to sicken a moose, but Jessa stayed fascinated with the ritual. When the supply ran out, Evan went off to find more. Upon returning, to his utter dismay, she had disappeared. He searched frantically around the Big Barn, but to no avail. He retired to his room for the evening, and woke the following morning thinking it was all just a dream.

Evan ran into Jessa a few more times during the three-day meeting. The interest she paid to him was surprising, given their differences. Evan was not one to rob the cradle, but this was too hard to pass by.

During his oral presentation, she took a seat in the front row. His moment of fame had arrived, but he was too enthralled with Jessa to capture it. Instead, he spoke directly to her throughout the lecture. His intentions were transparent to a distracted audience, but Evan didn’t care. He was hopelessly under her spell.

The 20-minute talk came and went without much fanfare. Only one question was asked and only few sought him out afterward. Those that tried found Evan inattentive, as he focused on Jessa. He would forgo a lifetime of opportunities for just one moment with her. She approached him curiously.

“I can’t believe it! You have the magic bullet for so many problems involving biofilms. This whole conference comes down to what you’re doing.”

“If it were that good, I’d be rich and famous,” Even sighed. “We’ve got work to do.” An inner voice counseled, ‘Show interest in her!’, which he learned from a book on how to pick up women.

“So what you are working on, Jessa?” He leaned forward under the pretext of confidentiality, but really wanted to be closer.

“I’m just a student, and not sure yet what I want to do.” Her tone was soft and insecure.

“I think you’re amazing. You must be a serious student. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be here.”

“I find this place boring,” Jessa admitted. Evan agreed. He was used to playing in New York City. Even Beirut, where Jessa originated, was far more interesting. Big Sky was a small, quiet village. The magnificent peak at Big Sky was the real attraction, particularly at higher, snow-covered elevations. Evan looked forward to ascending it later that day.

“Listen. I’m on my way up to the top of Big Sky soon. It’s my 50th birthday and I promised friends and family that I would send vibes back east from the summit. Would you care to join me?”

She suddenly lunged toward him, kissing him on both cheeks. “Happy birthday! Sorry, but I’m in meetings all day, and then off to the airport.” She was clearly upset, but not as much as he.

“Damn! Poor timing,” Evan growled. “Perhaps we could meet up again back east. We’re neighbors for God’s sake! Here’s my card. Give me a ring and we’ll get together.” Her warm gaze assured him of a future meeting.

Just before taking the tram up Big Sky, Evan checked his messages at the front desk. Jessa had left a small, decorative note. On the cover was a wild Mediterranean rose. The note offered words of friendship, and a desire to connect back home.

Now he was certain of his chances. Despite feeling intimidated and not at his best, she made it easy. A Mediterranean goddess had knelt before him, and delivered the keys to the kingdom.

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