Page 12 of Love, Theoretically
I don’t know. Maybe. I think so. Yeah.
I’ll just focus on the fake-girlfriending protocol. APE, Cece and I call it. (Well,Icall it APE. Cece just shakes her head and asks, “What’s wrong with scientists? Were you all, like, bullied in high school?”) First,assessthe need: What is it that the person in front of me wants to see? Then,plana response: How can I become what they want? And lastly,enact—
“Dr. Hannaway?”
I turn around. A dark-haired woman studies me as I mentally rehearse how to human. “Dr. Salt?”
Her handshake is strong. Businesslike. “It is nice to meet you in person.”
“Likewise.”
“Come—let’s go to the bar.”
I follow her, a little starstruck. Dr. Monica Salt wrote the textbook on theoretical physics—literally.The Salthas been sitting tight on my shelf for over a decade. Nine hundred pages of excellent content. Bonus: it squashes the hornet-crab spiders like a dream.
“Dr. Hannaway?” She sounds assertive. Charismatic. Badass. Like I wish I felt.
“Elsie, please.”
“Monica, then. I’m happy you applied for the position. When I saw your CV, I thought for sure some other university would have snatched you up by now.”
I smile, noncommittal.Yep, that’s me. Beating off job offers with a stick.
“Your dissertation on liquid crystals’ static distortions in biaxial nematics was brilliant, Elsie.”
I feel myself flush. Sex does nothing for me, but maybe this is my kink: being complimented by leading scholars in my field. Hot, huh? “You’re too kind.”
“I can hardly believe how much your work has already affected our understanding of non-equilibrium systems and macroscopic coherent motion. Liquid crystals are a hot topic in theoretical physics, and you’ve positioned yourself as an expert.”
I am thoroughly flattered. Well, almost thoroughly: there is something in her tone that has me on edge. Something odd. Nudging.
“Your discoveries are going to have long-ranging impact on many fields, from displays to optical imaging to drug delivery. Truly impressive.”
Like maybe there’s abut?
“I cannot overstate how impressed I am with the scientific output you’ve produced in such a short period.”
There’s definitely abut.
“You’ll be an asset to whatever institution you choose, and MIT would be the perfect home for you. I want to be honest and admit that based on what I have seen,youshould be the person we hire.”
... But?
“But.”
I knew it. I knew it. Iknewit, but my heart drops to the bottom of my stomach anyway.
“Elsie, I asked you to meet alone because I feel that it would be better if you knew about the... politics that are currently at play.”
“Politics?” I shouldn’t be surprised. STEM academia is 98 percent politics and 1 percent science (the rest, I suspect, “I Should Be Writing” memes). “What do you mean?”
“You might have several job offers, and I want to make sure that you choose us despite... whatever might happen during your interview.”
I frown. “Whatever might happen?”
She sighs. “As you know, in the past few years there has been some... some acrimony, between theoretical and experimental physicists.”
I hold back a snort.Acrimonyis a nice ten-dollar word to say that if the Purge were announced at this very moment, three-quarters of the world’s experimentalists would ring the theorists’ doorbells with their freshly sharpened machetes. Of course it would all be in vain: they’d find the theorists long gone, already swinging their scimitars in the experimentalists’ front yards.