3: 3
Over the next month, I sent out more than forty résumés.
Every one passed the first screen. Every one was rejected before the interview.
The last recruiter couldn't stomach it and called me privately.
"Ms. Pruitt, I'll be honest with you. Your résumé is excellent."
"But your old employer put you on the industry blacklist for academic misconduct. No one in this field will dare touch you."
I turned off my phone and sat in the rented apartment for a long time.
A temp's pay was never high, and I still wired my mother three thousand every month, so I had almost nothing saved.
With careful budgeting I could have scraped by to the end of next month, but two days ago I came home to find the lock jimmied open.
The place had been torn apart. The wardrobe was tipped over, the mattress flipped, every drawer yanked out.
The three thousand I'd hidden in a lining was gone too.
All that was left on the table was a note from my mother.
【Took the money to buy your sister some tonics to settle her nerves. You owe her that.】
The landlord had been cursing me from the yard for days now too.
"Your mother's been down here making scenes. Tells anyone who'll listen that you're a con artist."
"Pack up and get out. I've got other people to rent this place to."
With my savings stolen by my mother, I couldn't even make rent now.
I was still sitting there thinking when my phone rang. My mother.
I hesitated, then answered.
"Happy now? You've ruined your sister's whole reputation. Everyone at the institute is talking about her."
"She damaged the equipment. That's a fact."
"Bullshit. The equipment was faulty on its own, the assessment report said so."
She paused, then softened her voice on purpose.
"You come back and apologize to your sister, and we'll drop the whole thing. I'll find you a job at a supermarket."
"Apologize?"
"Your sister has never had to swallow a single hardship in her life. Don't you think you owe her an apology?"
"And hand over those manuscripts. They're part of Doris's project. You keeping them counts as theft."
I was so furious I laughed, and finally understood why she'd called. I hung up on her.
Not long after, she called again.
"Look at you. Nothing to show for your face, nothing for your degree, and now you've even lost your job. Who's going to want you?"
"Your sister is a full researcher, and you don't even have a job. Ever wonder why?"
"Because you're useless. Just like that pigheaded father of yours. You've been useless since the day you were born."
Only after she'd cursed her fill did she hang up.
Right after that, a text came in from Julian Henson.
【Kneel down and apologize to Doris now, and I can pull some strings to get you back at the institute as a cleaner.】
I sent back one word. Rot.
Then I blocked him.
The apartment was quiet, quiet enough to catch every line of the young couple fighting downstairs.
I took out the stack of manuscripts and spread them across the bed, page by page, to dry.
A few pages had gone blurry, so I retraced the writing with a pen and worked through the derivations, day and night.
This was the one thing they couldn't take from me, and my only leverage to prove myself.
But formulas alone weren't enough. Without a lab, these derivations would only ever be symbols on paper.
I needed one thing more. A chance to stand in the open again.
For the last few days I got by on fried bread, bread soaked in broth, and sliced bread.
Then, finally, I saw a post on an academic forum.
The most prestigious industry summit in the country would open here in the city next week.
The top scholars nationwide would be there, even Ellie Heath, the academician everyone called the titan of the field.
In my last life, I'd read in prison a paper Ellie Heath published that was enough to shift the whole field's direction.
But one step in it never sat right with me.
She probably knew it herself, because after that paper she never pushed the work any further.
And my research ran along the same line as hers. That step, I'd worked through it more times than I could count.
There was no way I'd get an invitation to the summit, but I'd once done systems maintenance for that venue.
No one knew the place better than I did.
I dug out the badge left over from that maintenance job, then spent the last of my money on a cleaner's uniform.
So on the summit's opening day, in that uniform, I walked into the main hall through the staff entrance.
Doris was seated in the front row.
Still wearing the professional suit I'd scrimped to buy and never let myself wear.
Julian sat beside her, sharp suit, riding high.
The institute director sat on Doris's other side, chatting and laughing with the man next to him.
Onstage, Academician Heath was presenting a bottleneck problem.
Her hair was streaked with gray, her back straight, her voice carrying across the entire hall.
"This set of data has stumped us for three years. Can anyone here give me a verifiable solution?"
