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Newbauer, the Senior Vice President of Operations, was chairing the meeting only because the founder and Chief Executive was out of the country. Newbauer gulped iced water from a cut crystal glass and counted the minutes until he could escape back to his office. Balding and heavy, Jonathan consoled himself by noting that herding these particular cats was not what he was hired to do. He stole a quick look at Quyron, who sat next to him, with her hands calmly folded, and cursed her roundly inside his head.
God save us from snooping women!
He knew he was sweating but he couldn’t stop.
    The remarkable U-shaped conference table was handmade from African ribbon mahogany, no doubt an attempt at continuity with the avian namesake of the room. The hardwood was hand rubbed with a natural clear finish and complemented by the unique chairs gathered around it. To gain a seat at the table was considered a badge of achievement, and it set one apart from those consigned to the outer chairs, forced to share space with the lower staff and support personnel.
    Presenters generally stood at the open end of the table where bright, wall-sized screens were suspended from the ceiling behind them. However, in practice, they were free to roam wherever they wished, since subsidiary screens dominated two other walls, and convenient eye-level interfaces were clamped along the entire inside lips of the table.
    Currently, all the screens were filled with sets of captivating 3-D graphics and enhanced photos. Neville Vandermark, a vibrant middle-aged man in a stylish tie and a crisp lab jacket, was delivering a lively presentation. Neville, a physicist, was an early hire of the foundational group that created
the Reive
, and as such, enjoyed a great deal of power and autonomy; both of which he exercised freely.
    Flanking Vandermark were two longtime members of his team, and both hired due to his lobbying efforts. Song Lee Hahn was a short, coldly introspective biophysicist from South Korea. Her lifelong struggle for professional recognition was as much a fight against her own culture as it was against the male dominated scientific community. Behind, and frankly towering over Song Lee, stood Taylor Nsamba, a quantum physicist from Africa. Always impeccably attired, Taylor spoke with the slightly European flavor to his language that was typical of his native Uganda.
    Vandermark was clearly enjoying himself. “It’s been a long hunt, and I won’t deny it. However, we’re confident that we’ve finally tagged the right wave function, at the right time. And here he is.”
    A series of photos flashed across the screens showing a pleasant-faced scientist with brown hair. To an outsider the images might have felt invasive, like covert surveillance shots: here he was in a lab with research assistants; there in his office; at a hotel conference podium delivering a paper; at home with his wife and child; in the morning in his car; late at night working at his desk.
    “This is Dr. Joseph Severson, a research scientist at the Center for Applied Genomics in Canada. He works hard, and he works his people hard.” Neville smiled. “We can verify that.”
    The screens transitioned to images of a multi-storied research facility next to a huge brick and glass hospital complex.
    “And this particular center is connected to a hospital called The Hospital for Sick Children, so the good doctor’s motivation is always just outside his window.”
    The screens showed layered images of sick children being treated in hospital rooms, their families interacting with staff members, and finally, a series of interior shots of Severson working beside gowned medical techs in a crowded, equipment strewn lab.
    “We think our bright boy is right on the edge of a breakthrough to identify the disease genes for Autism Spectrum Disorder. Well, to be more accurate, one of his alternate versions will. So far, we’ve tracked him through seventy-three major splits and sifted the numerous