Science in the Suburbs

Melody was excited when the new neighbor moved in. Most of the street was inhabited by people her parents’ age and older. The new neighbor was young and fit. She watched as he supervised the movers bringing his belongings.

“That needs to go in the lab. Please be very careful with it.”

“The exercise equipment all goes in the back room.”

“Just leave those boxes in the master bedroom.”

Melody’s parents’ home didn’t have a lab. It had a front room and a back room, three bedrooms, and the usual kitchen and bathrooms. She wondered if the lab was upstairs or downstairs.

The new neighbor didn’t seem to be investing any sweat equity into the moving process. Melody eyed herself critically in the mirror, freshened her makeup, and stepped out of the front door.

“Hello,” she waved at him “welcome to the neighborhood.”

He looked her up and down, then walked slowly over to the boundary fence. “Well, thank you. I’m Geoffrey Fitzroy.”

She walked up to meet him, extending her hand. “I’m Melody Jones. My parents live here, I’m just staying for the summer break.”

He took her hand and asked where she was studying. “I’m at Girton College, Cambridge, reading Natural Sciences.”

He smiled excitedly. “How fascinating! I have been a student of natural sciences for years. You must come over for tea when I’ve moved in properly. I would love to get your opinions on my laboratory.” He sounded foreign in some way, but she couldn’t place his accent. There was an odd formality to his speech.

“I thought I heard you mention a lab. Do you plan to run experiments here? I don’t believe many suburban homes in London have labs in them. There’s a sort of 19th century vibe to that.” She was hoping he’d give her some insight into his work.

“Exactly, the placement of laboratories into dedicated buildings is a very modern concept. My work builds on much older forms of study.” He smiled at her as though he was enjoying a private joke. “But now I’m afraid I must return to supervising the movers. They have no idea where to put things. It has been a great pleasure to have met you, Miss Melody.”

She nodded understandingly as he turned away. “See you again soon!” she called after him.

Back in the house, Melody went to the kitchen, where her mother was preparing a spicy stew for dinner. “I met your new neighbor. He’s cute and interesting.” She picked at some chopped carrots. “He says he’s a scientist. Geoffrey Fitzroy. Funny name – I wonder if he’s foreign. It was like talking to an old-time gentleman.”

Her mother smacked her hand away from the vegetables. “So is he good-looking?”

“Oh, definitely. He’s probably in his thirties, although he acts older. He’s about five foot ten, very pale, white skin, longish brown hair – shoulder length, I suppose. And he was wearing a fancy shirt with a jacket over it. He could have stepped out of a wartime movie, or even from Victorian times. But he is so – present, if you know what I mean? He has this deep, soft voice, and he seems to be looking into your soul when he talks to you.” She stopped talking, remembering how she had felt immediately attracted to him. But why? He was not model material or a gym rat.

Her mother laughed. “Well, don’t plan a wedding yet. He hasn’t even had time to unpack. And you still have two years to go at university.”

* * *

On Saturday morning, there was a ring at the doorbell. Melody’s father answered it and found Geoffrey standing there. He was formally dressed again, and he introduced himself as their new neighbor, mentioning that he had already met Melody on the day he moved in. Of course, he was invited in and they all sat in the front room, drinking coffee. Geoffrey made polite conversation, getting to know his neighbors without being too intrusive. After a while, he looked seriously at Melody’s parents. “I wanted us to get to know each other, because the other day I invited Miss Melody to come for tea, and I would love for her as a fellow scientist to see my lab now it is set up. That was rather forward of me, since we hardly knew each other. Would you consider it rude of me to invite her to visit this afternoon?”

Melody’s eyes bulged slightly in shock. Was this man asking her parents for permission for a formal date? That was something she had read about, but it had been out of style even when her parents were courting.

Her father seemed nonplused, but he rose to the challenge. “Of course, Melody must make her own decision on that” he said. “She is a young adult now, a university student with a bright future. I assume your intentions towards her are … honorable?”

Geoffrey did not find this statement as funny as the Jones family evidently did. “You can be sure, sir, that my intentions are most honorable. I hope to be able to capture the interest of her scientific brain, as well as to enjoy the pleasure of her company. We will be just next door if you wish to speak to her.”

Melody spoke up to terminate the conversation before it got out of hand. “That is very nice of you, Geoffrey. As a family, we are not very formal, but I’m glad that you chose to meet my parents before I came over. Please call me Melody. Miss Melody sounds so severe! What time would you like me to visit?”

* * *

Melody knocked on Geoffrey’s door promptly at the agreed time. She noted there was no doorbell, just an imposing brass knocker. Maybe he longed for times past, when things were more structured, when neighbors didn’t come to the back door, or when people actually went through a formal introduction process instead of just “hanging out.” She wondered if he was expecting her to have dressed up. But it was Saturday. Jeans and a T-shirt would have to suffice.

Geoffrey looked delighted to see her when he opened the door. “Melody, how happy I am to welcome you to my home. Please come in and make yourself comfortable. I will bring in tea.”

Melody looked around the front room. The furniture was an eclectic mix of antique and modern. A floor to ceiling bookcase covered one wall, full of well-worn books. There was no television or computer in sight. As Geoffrey poured tea for them both, she commented on the décor.

He nodded and smiled. “Thank you, Melody. I have an eye for classic styles, regardless of their era. They make me feel very comfortable. I like to sit here and read in the mornings. The books you see are mostly scientific in nature. I think and study in the morning, and test and experiment in the afternoon. Feel free to look at my books and see if they interest you.”

Melody walked along the wall, teacup in hand. First she saw some fairly new books, mostly about atomic physics, and several on particle accelerators. “Are you interested in particle physics? That’s not easy to study at home!” she laughed.

Geoffrey sat back, watching her as she looked at the titles. “Yes, I spent a good deal of time researching in that area. Some great things have been discovered, but nuclear fission and fusion have gone down some dead-end paths. I have taken a different approach.”

She turned and looked at him quizzically. Surely he was joking. The next shelf she looked at housed some extremely old books, many of them handwritten. “These must be very valuable” she muttered. “Shouldn’t they be under glass or something?”

He smiled gently. “They are old, but I refer to them from time to time. I can’t keep them in a pristine environment. As they start to crumble, I copy them so nothing is lost. These are old alchemy books. So much was discovered and then lost.”

Melody walked to the méridienne, which looked to be an antique. She kicked her shoes off and lounged on it, looking piercingly at Geoffrey. “I think you’re making fun of me. These books would make sense if you were trying to transmute lead into gold, the old alchemists’ search for the philosopher’s stone. But we’ve known for centuries that can’t be done because they are different at the atomic level. Modern science can do it, with a particle accelerator, but only in miniscule amounts, and it’s far too expensive to do. So what are you really studying?”

Geoffrey stood, and pulled an old manuscript from the bookshelf. He handed it to her, open at a page with diagrams and writing. “Read this.”

It was difficult to read, but it seemed to be an old plan for some sort of industrial oven. In the middle of the illustration was a lump labeled “metal” surrounded by layers of other materials with labels in Latin. She looked up at him. “You’re serious? You really think you are discovering the philosopher’s stone?” She was beginning to doubt his sanity.

Geoffrey nodded gravely. “Yes, as you said, the particle accelerator has proved that it can be done. But that is typical of your modern technologies – spending more and more to achieve less and less. We used to be more creative. There are other technologies capable of making changes to atoms.”

She laughed outright. “So some old alchemist has a way to do it? That’s insane.”

Geoffrey reached into his pocket and brought out some gold pieces, placing them carefully on the coffee table in front of her. Some were just rough nuggets, but others were clearly based on manufactured metal objects. One was in the shape of a tin soldier, another was shaped like a Matchbox car. She examined them. They were all very heavy, like real gold. Then he leaned over and closed the book so she could see the front page. It read “Journal of Geoffrey Fitzroy 1693.”

“So you took the alchemist’s name?” She was trying to think of a quick way to end the visit and go home. “Why would you do that?”

Geoffrey picked some more manuscripts from the bookshelves and handed them to her. Some were old sheafs of paper, some were 20th century bound notebooks. At the front of each one she saw the same title “Journal of Geoffrey Fitzroy” and a year. All in the same precise handwriting. She frowned. Was he a time traveler? Was it some weird cult where knowledge was passed down through generations?

Geoffrey stared straight at her and said “It took a very long time to amass all the information I needed. And I had to wait for conventional science to solve some problems for me. But now I have everything I need to make gold at will. It should have taken many lifetimes. Fortunately, I had all eternity to study, because I had already discovered the elixir of life. I’ll show you the process in my laboratory. I am hoping you can be persuaded to work with me on this.

“But first, would you care for another cup of tea, my dear? You will find it very invigorating.”