Dr Archeville Posted December 3, 2010 Posted December 3, 2010 Superslick Place: Stockholm, Sweden. Nobel Prize Banquet. Time: 10 December 2007 [NB] Every year, in Stockholm, one of the most prestigious events in the scientific and academic events of the year is held: the Nobel Prizes. And every year, after the ceremony, a banquet is held at the Stockholm City hall. Dr Quentin Quill was a respected academic in England. He had not won, and was probably just short of the brilliance required to meet the olympian standards of intellect that characterised the winners of the prize. This was not say he was by any means lacking of wit: he was one of the brightest scientists and polymaths in England - but perhaps not the brightest. Still, winning would not be out of the question for him. A man can dream... Felix Fassbinder was cut from a somewhat different cloth. A smart man, no doubt, but he was attending as CEO of Fassbinder Pharmaceuticals, a multinational company that spanned America and much of northern Europe - particularly England, Germany and Scandinavia. Unusually, he owned the entire company, perhaps because he insisted on the highest standards of medical ethics within the business. His company had therefore built a reputation as being honest, trustworthy, and clean. They contributed a not immodest immount each year to the Nobel institute. It was not merely his contributions to the institution that had earned him an invitation - it was his philanthropy in medicine and medical research, and his constitently clean sheet in terms of ethics. The two men sat next to each other at the table. Quentin was particularly eager to escape a rather irritating and sycophantic German professor of physics, Liebniz. The man was no doubt a genius - and a possible future winner - although he found the man somewhat brusque. The splendid table seated 10, and had placemats. Both men surruptitiously looked at each others names. "Pleased to meet you Professor Quill" started Felix, offering his hand in a congenial manner. "Likewise, Mr. Fassbinder" replied Quentin. Whilst Liebniz was far from his cup of tea, he would have preferred an academic as part tablemate. "Oh, please, call me Felix. Mr. Fassbinder is for my business enemies and people trying to sue me" "Well... thats very congenial of you, Felix. My name is Quentin Quill. I will endevour not to sue you, particularly if you have an army of well trained lawyers behind you!" Quentin tried to size up Felix. Fit looking man, handsome, mid 40s? maybe early 50s? he had that look of a middle aged man still bursting with vitality. Quentin wasn't exactly out of shape, but he had to confess Felix put him to shame physically. He sounded pleasant enough. "What kind of business are you in, Mr Fass..err...Felix?" "Pharmaceuticals. Drugs. A little light chemical engineering. Lubricants, for instance. But mainly drugs. Fassbinder Pharmaceuticals, est 1952. Doing very well." Quentin had heard of them, vaguely. He studied biology and biochemistry - but not medicine. He knew the main pharmaceutical companies, and this was one of them. "Wait... you are the Fassbinder - as in, you own the company?" Now Felix sized up his partner in wine. Slightly stocky chap, late 30s, had that kind of upper class english robustness to him. And certainly had an upper class English accent. Looked smart - well, brain smart, his clothes weren't a good fit. Nice bow tie, however. "Yes thats right" he answered, slightly embarressed. "Don't do much of the running these days, of course. And most of the credit goes to my father - he was the genius with chemicals. I was always more of the business side of things. " Quentin nodded. He never got on particularly well with businessmen, or indeed money in general, although he was comfortably well off. Why did they put him besides a businessman? he must have drawn the short straw. Not that Felix didn't seem a nice chap. For a businessman. Felix must have sensed Quentin's slight stiffening, and reacted smoothly "don't you worry about me muscling in on the night of academia. I didn't bribe may way in here, and I'm not going head hunting! My company was built on making sure we do science right. We dont tolerate sloppy ethics, either internally or in others. I give a little donation to the Institute however, if you want to call that bribery" he smiled "but I hope and pray that I, and my company, still have the reputation it was built on. " Quentin nodded. The man was clearly passionate about this. Very passionate. Not quite the cold crook businessman he was expecting. He adjusted his bow tie. "Well, I can't say I follow these things much, but you seem passionate about it, and your cause laudible. If thats the case, I salute you. Too much skullduggery in research these days, if I may say so. Thanks goodness for events such as this, keeps some nobility in the business. " Felix nodded back. On that, they had full agreement. "So, Quentin, whats your line of work?" "Not medicine, or pharmaceuticals, I am afraid, although I have studied a fair bit of biochemistry, biology and psychology. I am a professor of Physics at Oxford, although I confess my ideas can be a bit unorthordox at times, and bridge more than a few disciplines. " "Very interesting" nodded Felix, quite genuinely, as the waiter came round serving the first course. He gazed at the delicious menu: MENU Homard en daube avec flétan à l'aneth et oeufs d'ablette de Kalix Duo de coquelet avec terrine de pommes de terre « Almond » et céleri-rave Marquise aux pistaches, framboises et cassis, accompagnée de glace vanille VINS Jacquart Brut Mosaïque Millésimé 1996 Magnum Corton Grand Cru Grèves Bourgogne 2002 Domaine Jean-Claude Belland Tri de Vendange Coteaux du Layon 2003 Raymond Morin Café Remy Martin VSOP Cointreau Eau minérale Ramlösa Translation (English): Lobster aspic with dill-baked halibut and Kalix bleak roe Young cockerel with cockerel sausage, accompanied by almond potato and celery root terrine Raspberry and blackcurrant parfait on beds of pistachio, with vanilla ice cream Translation (Swedish): Hummeraladåb med dillbakad hälleflundra och Kalixlöjrom. Serveras med blomkålscreme samt äppelsallad. Ungtupp med tuppkorv smaksatt med salvia. Mandelpotatis- och rotselleriterrin samt silverlökspuré, kronärtskocka och rödvinssås. Hallon- och svartvinbärsterrin med pistagebottnar samt vaniljglass The evening progressed very admirably, with Felix and Quentin chatting about this and that, at some points flipping into French, when discussing the menu, and later flipping into German when having a threeway conversation with a rather melancholy albeit charismatic poet from Berlin. They continued to discuss as they digested and drank. Quentin struck up a fairly lively conversation with a Rheumatologist to his left. The conversation had initially gone rather badly as had made some quip about his bad back: something that she clearly had to fend off every single time she explained her profession. Quentin made a good recovery, and they ended up discussing biomechanics for a good half hour. Felix had, to his right, a couple of astronomers from the USA, who, as a pair, had done some important work on solar system formation. He didn't pretend to understand one percent of what they had done, but they were lively and friendly. He suspected they were a gay couple. Of course, he didn't have an atom of prejudice about sexuality. Or sex, come to that matter. It just rather dissapointed him they weren't open about it, or rather; that society had not yet progressed to where they did not feel being open was an issue. Damn, this was Sweden, fellas! As the banquet ended, with a series of speeches that varies from outright dull to inspiring and moving, Felix and Quentin started to scrape of the last dregs of the Parfait with Ice Cream (the whole meal had been delicious). Felix had ordered a fine vintage port, after Quentin had let slip his favourite tipple. It was horribly expensive, and Quentin had of course resisted briefly, in a manner that clearly indicated he would be mortified if his resistance was taken at all seriously. The two were slightly drunk. "So Quentin" asked Felix "what do you make of this?" Quentin took the small vial that Felix had produced, filled with a thick oily substance. He peered at it closely. Recently, he had begun to... well.. sense things... odd things... in his mind, when he concentrated. It all felt connected to his research on quantum entanglement. But the jigsaw had yet to fall into place. "Looks like oil" he replied, tipping the small vial one way and another "very slick, minimal friction, high viscocity. I'm not a chemist, but thats an unusual set of physical properties you have there. " Very odd indeed. He could... well.... sense... things. Odd things. He peered at it closer. It was almost as if he could feel the atoms and forces in the oil. Suddenly a jigsaw peice fell into place. Only one, a very incomplete one. And he felt a connection with those atoms and forces. And look here at this. And that. And if I just nudge this here... then the pattern changes... The oil suddenly lost all its hyrostatic force, slipped out of the vail, and hit the table, where it dribbled, impossibly, along the tablecloth leaving not one stain. Despite its low velocity, it didn't stop. STOP IT thought Quentin, hard, and the pattern flew back to its original form. "Wow!" remarked Felix. He had produced a small quantity of his oily secretions, to see what Quentin would make of it. A bit reckless perhaps. Maybe the alcohol had disinhibited him a little. But he had never seen it do that. "What was that? It seemed to become totally frictionless for a second!" Quentin nodded, quite shocked "Indeed it did, indeed it did. I don't know what happened. Must be some remarkable chemical you have there. " Felix scooped it back into the vial. This time it left an unseemly smudge on the table cloth. He knew it acted as an effective lubricant. But that was incredible. It had become, well, superslick. The night wore on, and the two men bade each other farewell. They had enjoyed a friendly dinner and had become friends. But the incident with the oil had stiffened them both slightly. Felix was concerned about a new poperty of his unusual biochemistry, and was struggling with the shame that sometimes surged through him. And of course, the fear of his identity being revealed. Quentin, on the other hand, was plain shocked about what he had felt happen. "Goodnight, Felix" said Quentin, offering his hand. "Goodnight, Quentin" replied Felix, shaking it. "That was one Superslick banquet" he added as the two men walked off to the taxis.
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