friends.
Zimmermann had an unusual accent. He didn’t look it, but he was almost certainly a second-generation German. He was a formidable scientist and a doctor who still practiced medicine. He took loving care of his patients, which isn’t common practice.
“Hey, Cooper!” he said to Barnett, entering the lab. He approached Barnett quietly; his student was sleeping with his head on the desk in front of him. “You have been up until the wee hours with your favorite neuroblasts, eh?”
Barnett slowly lifted up his head and looked round at the professor. His right cheek was literally sculpted with letters from the computer keyboard.
“Good…good morning professor...I'm going to get a cup of coffee, I'll be right back,” Barnett mumbled, standing up.
“Remember, tomorrow you have the exam at 9:00 am! And then the interview with me from 5:00 to 6:00 pm. I’m expecting a lot from you.”
Zimmermann left immediately for the classrooms with his notes under his arm.
Barnett spent all day in the lab, and after dinner he went to the gym without reviewing anything for the next day.
7
The written examination lasted three hours, and for Barnett it seemed interminable. He was intent on getting the highest grades. He still had three months to go in Argentina and he wanted to return to Harvard with the highest score in order to get another scholarship for his PhD.
The commission would evaluate all the written exams and publish the results in the early afternoon of the following day.
At the last moment, Zimmermann had told the students that he would receive the candidates in another office located next to one of the research laboratories, rather than use his own office on the ground floor of the Department of Medicine.
When Barnett came in, he saw Zimmermann studying his file intently. Four other students had already been examined by Zimmermann before it was Barnett’s turn.
“Sit down, Cooper,” the professor urged him. “We have only an hour left and it's really not enough time, so no pleasantries.”
Barnett sat down immediately. He felt agitated. Alarm bells were going off full blast in his head, but he did not ask for an explanation because he had never seen Zimmermann look at him this way. He expected, though he did not know why, to be rejected.
“You had the best score of all my students on the course and in the lab exam. Your work on the project has given us some interesting results for the moment.
“The researchers in charge of the project wanted you as a junior member of the team, but I said I was against it because I don’t believe that you can work on a team and, because you're too self-centered. You are going to leave Buenos Aires in two days. You will complete the remaining three months of your work at King's College in London. We’re, in fact, doing the same study simultaneously but using different approaches...they are waiting for you with open arms.”
“But, Professor,” exclaimed Barnett, “it's not true that I can’t work on a team. I would like to complete my studies and training with you, and I know I can do it. If you send me to London to complete my studies, I doubt I will be able to qualify for a PhD. at Harvard.”
Barnett felt like he was on board a STOL (Short Take-Off and Landing) flight in the middle of a tropical storm, having to quickly perform an emergency landing in the jungle.
“If you succeed there, they will give you a scholarship at King's College; it’s all set. Now, stop worrying and trust me. Let me speak and answer my questions, there’s no time.”
Barnett felt like he was in a nightmare. He didn’t understand; his demons were laughing at him behind his back. If he also lost his ability to think, the situation would be completely out of his control.
“I have been studying your behavior and your profile ever since you joined my course. You’ve got a monster on your back but your will-power and your intelligence have allowed you to keep