Timing is always the key, Annagail thought idly.

Her office had been a source of pleasure to Annagail, always. The large south-facing windows admitted tons of beautiful light, and the downhill view was of the edge of town. By glancing left to the right, she could go from the industrial to the wild. The view unnerved some of her patients, though it had always enthralled her. Her desk faced perpendicular to the windows, so that she could survey the scene, or not, while she worked, or didn’t.

No psychologists or neuroscientists worth their skin would claim to understand what drove the creative process. Some people burned out when they were fifteen, other wrote symphonies on their deathbed. But most so-called experts agreed that forcing the light-bulb moment didn’t work for most people.

It has certainly never worked for me. She thought to herself.

So she used the view to distract herself in the hope that when she turned her mind back to the problem, the solution would just be there. It had landed her a genius husband with whom she had a relationship that she was happy with, a successful practice and career, and, in a few months, a chance to win 30 million dollars.

Annagail knew that her husband was planning something for the governance. He spent 12 hours a day in the lab and came home bubbling with good cheer. The meals that they spent together blurred with talk of his student’s progress; but on the subject of his own studies, he was silent. When they made love before falling asleep, his ardor burned like he was igniting a star. When he woke, the glaze of his concentration had forced her to shout to get his attention three times already that week.

All of that just combined to convince her that he thinks he is onto something big. Annagail didn’t think of herself as a terribly acquisitive person. Nor did she think that she was exceptionally entrepreneurial. But she was a competitor. When they had met, they had briefly played on a mixed Ultimate team together, it was she that had the most touches per game… and the better passer rating.

And I will be damned if I am going to lie down and let one of the men win this damn competition. She didn’t really care about the money, but she wasn’t sure that she would willingly put any of her three collaborators in charge of what seemed likely to be the first extra-Terran human settlement. So she was going to win.

Her husband, JP, and Cal, were going to try to make money the hard way—with innovation, hard work, and pure genius. She could provide certification services on service streams and make plenty of money that way, but it would never be enough for her to win. To win, she was going to have to adapt, and that meant thinking ahead.

One of the fundamental facts of her existence was soon to change. From being an anonymous number, she was going to be in television. And that means that I can be a celebrity.

During her graduate years, she had been drafted by one of her professors to prepare a conference paper on the psychology of celebrity. At first she had considered the project below her; but she was getting paid, so she delved into the subject. What she discovered surprised her.

Being a celebrity was for all intents and purposes identical to living in a police state. Violent crime among celebrities was virtually null, except for occasional quickly-reported domestic disputes and psychotic breaks. Financial liberty and stress drove a majority of celebrities to indulge in substance use. They faced the constant threat of violence from deranged fans or disaffected citizens looking for a platform to air their grievances against society. Celebrities became the target of these ill-affected men and women-- well, mostly men-- because celebrities had grown to represent the pinnacle of success that society could create.

Amongst the wealthiest class of celebrity, it was difficult to understand what motivated them. Acquisition was unnecessary. Rich celebrities did things because they liked them, or because they thought they were necessary, or for any number of reasons besides financial need. There was a tipping point after which celebrities didn’t even need to be right to make money.

Celebrities make money simply by being celebrities.

Or more precisely, celebrities made money by making people like them. It was that simple. Some provide valuable services in entertainment; but the inherent value in celebrity is in the power of a fan base. Some celebrities made people like them by making other people hate them. I may not be the most genius of the three of us, but I am surely the most photoegenic. If I can go for the first month of the show as a complete and total badass, I wonder how much money I can make advertising and as the public face of other people’s ventures in the next eleven.

On the outskirts of town, near the horizon from the perspective of her office window, there was a building whose use she had never asked after. It was a remarkable building for the smokestack which billowed what she hoped was pure water steam in a never-ending process of industry. When it stormed, sometimes she couldn’t even see it. But at a certain time of year, when the sun was just a few degrees off the ground, the steam reflected the light as though it were a rainbow river of cloud.

She had never marked it on her calendar, but she always waited for that two-week stretch and hoped that the weather would be fair. It was the sort of thing that she would paint in her dotage. Once she had tried to describe it over the phone to her husband; he had listened carefully, and then said that it sounded like the kind of thing that you had to experience to understand.

Every celebrity that she had interviewed had said the same thing about fame.

She knew it was part of the reason Julius’ mind had created the Tripping Prophet. The simple existence that the prophet, a truthspeaker living in the moment of his experience, could understand balanced against the ever-shifting winds of mass appeal. He had not been ready for them. As versed as she was in the field, she knew that if she went through with her plan, she could never go back. A significant number of celebrities expressed some sort of wishful nostalgia for the days when they had been just another face in a sea of them. Will I be one of them?

She knew that taking that plunge would be her only chance to win. She knew that she could manage her appeal. She knew that she could win. But, I don’t know if it will be worth the cost.

If she got popular enough, she could sell her time over webcam as a lecturer and for causes. She could start an organization to sell other members’ time. If I sell myself right, I can probably just ask for money and get people to give it to me.

If she did it: if she became the most sought voice and face on the Governance, would the paparazzi let her keep her picture window?

Don’t be silly; she thought idly, you could always use the winnings to pay for one-way glass.

****

Jules stared at the screen. In his mind he was smiling, but his face was emotionless. His eyes were unfocused, gazing at something only he could see.

It was close to being done. When he had tried to generate vortex motion in plasma; it had been too easy. The flow tried to maintain itself. If it spiraled towards non-vortex flow, it only took a touch to reassert the motion. It worked. I am going to space.

“We did it, child. Do you know what this means?” Jules said.

“No, father. What does it mean?” Grace replied.

“We actually have to go through with my mad plan to overthrow the Party now.” He sighed deeply. “As soon as this technology goes public, there is going to be incredible pressure on us to weaponize this technology.

“I can see why you would think think that, but I don’t understand the connection to China.”

“And then the only way that the United States won’t try to steal it from us is if they have no one to fight against.”

The timing is going to be damn tricky. We will have to be in space before the Party falls, when someone traces the revelation back to us, we need to be beyond the reach of powers that enforce the status quo.

“Mr. Paine, I have several incoming calls for you. Three of the four people that know you live here are attempting to contact you. The tag for Lauria’s call indicates that she is on her way here by chopper as we speak. Here she is:”

The computer transferred the call to his office’s speakers.

“Julius, It’s me. Do not leave the building until I get there.” Lauria said breathlessly.

“What’s going on ‘Ria?” He asked.

“You are going to need me tonight. Don’t leave, OK?” An edge of desperation had entered her voice.

“Sure.” He consented. “How long ‘til you get here?”

“Grace can tell you. Soon. Bye JP.” The call clicked dead.

He stood pensive for a moment. A twinkling of a thought was beginning to grow in his mind. Grace’s voice interrupted his reverie. “Dr. Venturi or Dr. Annagail Peraster?”

“Cal, then Anna.” A click indicated that the call had been transferred. “Go ahead Cal; sorry to make you wait.”

“Not to worry, my brother. Has your TV been on today?” Callisto asked over the connection

“No.” Jules said. The suspicion was growing.

“You deserve to see for yourself how this thing went down. Turn on CNN as soon as you get the chance.” Callisto replied.

“Are you saying what I think you are?” He was fairly sure his twinkling of a thought was correct.

“Just watch 10 minutes of cable news. See you tonight.” Callisto said.

“I thought you were in Bali.” Jules questioned.

“Change of plans. Bye, my friend. It has been a true honor to get to know you.” The call ended and Jules heard the telltale sound connecting him to the next call.

“Jules, are you there?” Annagail’s voice sounded concerned.

“Yes, and Callisto just told me that I have an urgent need to turn on the Cable News Network. Lauria told me not to leave the house.”

“Then you know.” It wasn’t a question. She had seen his medical records and knew just how smart he truly was.

“All but how it happened.” Jules answered.

“I’m so sorry dear.” She said.

“Why? We always planned for me to go public.” He answered without rancor.

Annagail sighed deeply. “Your vacation is ending early.”