Chapter 1
December 2014
What she really needs is a coffee. Not the lunch bag that somehow ended up in her hand. No, something to keep her going now that the talk-fueled adrenaline is starting to wane. Standing in line, Karen glances around the large convention hall. The poster session is still busy after lunch, but seems less intense than the previous days. People may be getting tired, she thinks, information overload setting in after four packed days. She should try for some posters, though. Or at least mingle. Bad conference coffee in hand, she heads into the crowd.
She scans the poster titles as she wanders down the first row. A few dramatic pictures and colorful diagrams catch her eye. But nothing holds her attention for long. Perhaps meeting fatigue is finally getting to her as well. Turning the corner, she finds a small crowd filling the aisle. A popular poster, it seems. The presenter is an energetic woman in her late twenties, of medium height and build and with mousy blond hair. Karen smiles, reminded of herself attending her first international meeting, years and years ago. She steps closer, trying to hear above the background noise. As she does, a man turns around.
Karen Larsson. Ah, finally. Its great to see you. He holds out his hand to her and continues rapidly. I really enjoyed your talk this morning. Wonderful stuff. Really amazing. He is about her age, half a head taller, with curly red-blond hair and beard. He seems familiar, but no name springs to mind immediately. Karen smiles and shakes his hand with a tentative Thanks. After a moment she realizes that he spoke with the familiar sing-song accent of home. Now she remembers. Torsten. He did his PhD in Nils lab at Karolinska, starting a year after her.
Torsten. What a surprise. I havent seen you for like, forever. How are you? They fall into an easy chat, catching up on the missing 10 years. He is still in Sweden, in Lund. Her lab is in Chicago. Prompted, she tells him about her postdoc in Boston, the job at Northwestern, her PhD students and their projects. She has come far, she knows, and feels the rush of well-earned pride. He compliments her on the talk again and the fantastic movies she showed. This allows her to gush happily about her favorite toy, the high-end, custom-equipped microscope that she has spent most of the past 5 years with. After a while, they run out of obvious topics. But saying goodbye, she finds herself re-energized and ready for more.
Determined to make an effort for the rest of the session, she moves on, looking closely at a few posters, listening to bits of presentations here and there. She manages to pick up a few interesting findings, but mostly drifts along. Several times, she receives a Great talk this morning or I really enjoyed your talk from complete strangers. This is immensely gratifying. It was worth staying on this afternoon, she thinks, just for the pleasure of these spontaneous compliments.
Halfway down the next aisle, she stops up, abruptly. The perfect hair, the confident walk. Chloe. It must be her. Karen freezes, unable to move forward or to turn away. Then the woman turns to face her. It is not Chloe. Of course not. Pull yourself together, she thinks. You thought she was at the talk too, in the third row. But that wasnt her either. She is not here. Karen breathes deeply. It is her first time back since she left Boston some 5 years ago. That must be what is making her jumpy. Silly.
Slowly, she starts moving again. She reads more poster titles and glances at images and text. She gets another compliment on her talk. After some time, she notices that the hall is slowly starting to empty out. The first posters are being taken down, rolled up and returned to their protective plastic tubes. A few eager students are still explaining their work. Others are simply chatting, reluctant to let it all go, perhaps. She remembers her lunch bag and eats half of the slightly stale sandwich. Its hard to believe it has already come and gone, her first talk at a major meeting, something she had been looking forward to for so long. It was worth it, though, all the years, all the preparations. She thinks back to being on the podium, being able to engage that big audience, and the questions and compliments after. Yes, definitely worth it. But the moment has passed and the meeting is closing. She takes a final look around, scanning the faces close by. There are no ghosts here, only ordinary strangers and the occasional old friend. It is better this way. The past is safe where it is.
Chapter 2
November, 2006
The polished red stone is shimmering like a faint halo in the pale morning sunlight. Chloe loves this building. Although smaller than the gray hulks surrounding it, it immediately attracts the eye: the unexpected color and light, the subtle, yet confident curves. The adjacent university buildings seem bland, uninspired by comparison. Chloe feels that she truly belongs here now, at the institute. She has earned her place, even if she is only a member of the transient postdoc population. Four years ago she was a newbie full of well-suppressed insecurities, in awe of the famous faculty members. That girl seems so remote now. Since then, the institute has become her home, her world. As intense and challenging and full a world as she had hoped it would be.
She takes a few quick steps to get to the entrance. However much she loves it here, she is ready for the next phase. It is time to move on and start her own lab as a principal investigator. Preferably at an equally excellent research institute or university. She hopes that today is the day for a final decision about her paper. It has been 3 weeks since the resubmission to Nature. The initial reviews were basically positive and she has done everything the reviewers asked for. So the journal editors must accept her paper, they must. The truth is that they can do what they want, and she knows it. But this morning she feels convinced that it will be a yes. She quickens her step and pushes open the huge glass doors with her shoulder, shielding the still warm latte in one hand.
On her way in, Chloe smiles and says Good morning to Mr. Cleveland, one of the usual security guys. He is a large man and his fitted light blue uniform makes him look even more imposing. But he is always ready with a friendly smile and is quick to buzz Chloe in when he is on weekend shifts. On this Friday morning, the door is not locked, but a nod and a smile are offered as she passes through the glassed-in entryway. Chloe appreciates the easy friendliness of most Americans. It is so much better than the routine German grumpiness that she grew up with. Nosy watchers always looking for impropriety in a smile or an attractive face. Although not conventionally pretty, Chloe is certainly attractive. She has a handsome, angular face with prominent cheekbones, framed by short, expertly cut, dark brown hair. She is slender, well proportioned and athletic. Partial to ankle boots, blue jeans and fitted cotton shirts, she dresses casually but never sloppily. She is content that she has found a good balance. Feminine enough, yet she does not draw unwanted attention. Her freshness, confidence and intelligent charm are what tend to draw people in, and what most remember. This suits her.
Once inside, Chloe fleetingly admires the buildings sleek interior design and gives the art by the elevators the usual quick glance. But she does not linger. She heads for the stairs. The elevators are maddeningly slow, as if she has all the time in the world to get to the lab and get going.