6181/Homework

Homework
Date of Scene:	11 May 2021
Location:	Pym's Midtown Lab
Synopsis:	A meeting of the minds is achieved and Damian has a project, and a budget.
Cast of Characters:	Hank Pym, Damian Wayne

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Hank Pym has posed:
Hank Pym is running several molecular simulations and also tracking brain activity on a holo display. The lab is spotless and meticulously organized. Some people think that messiness is a sign of mental distress. With Pym, it is the reverse. The worse he feels, the more he exerts control over the few things he has control of these days. Bo the ant is wiping a counter with a towel (no dirty rags tHank you). The living room is a little cluttered. Some old cartons were opened and old superhero memorabilia and scrap books set out. The clutter, on closer, examination /is/ organized. Little sticky notes abound. In fact several generations are indicated by notes saying things like, "Disregard previous note!" initialed and dated.

This comes as no surprise to the few people aware that Hank devised a pen with an autocorrect feature. It stings the hand when you make a mistake and crosses it out.

Damian Wayne has posed:
     Damian had chartered a car to drop him off in New York, at least when it came to having money like your father does do you have a car service at your beck and call 24/7.

  The young man had done his research on Dr. Pym's independent course, and steeled his will to sign himself up. His attendance at Happy Harbor was twofold, one to actually attain a High School diploma, of which he was overqualified for, and to be exposed to others his age.

  Exposure was the key word there, where Damian would assert that indeed it was akin to exposure to infectious disease. But, he did gain solace in the fact that he enjoyed learning from the best minds in the world, of which Happy Harbor had many in their ranks.

  So, Damian entered the lab, a Halliburton case in his left hand, and a leather folio tucked under his arm. "Doctor Pym?" He called out, noting Bo diligently wiping down a counter, and the smattering of notes about.

Hank Pym has posed:
Hank Pym belatedly notes the schedule hologram for meetings and shrugs. As he turns a sharp eye might note him sweeping up a prescription bottle and pocketing it. Most would not. He steps out of the console area and the displays shut down. Walking over to Damian he offers a hand. "Good morning. I see you're an early bird. It seems people in your social strata either make the most of themselves or, nothing of themselves. I'm glad you're the former. I already turned down a few people who wanted to study under me because it'd look god and one undernourished reported seeking to pose as a sophomore. They should have all left crying, however, Dr. MacIntyre wouldn't approve of it. I'm getting complacent in my old age. So... what do you have for me today. Give me the elevator pitch. You have two minutes. 3-2-1. Go." Pym doesn't offer a seat or sit down. He looks a little like he could use a seat himself, and a shave.

Damian Wayne has posed:
     The young Wayne returned the handshake, his own firm yet not crushing, practiced well for a young business heir. "Thank you for the opportunity to show what I can do. And unlike two of my brothers...I am punctual when it comes to my own appointments." Damian's clothes reflected more of a young executive rather than a teen in the precipice of sixteen years.

  He finds a place to put the Halliburton down and unlatches the case after a quick biometric thumbprint scan. The boy put a pack to his belt, gray in color. "Thermoptic camouflage, invisible to infrared, and cameras, and nearly indistinguishable to the human eye. This technology has been part in parcel for jets and large objects thanks to OLED panels and pin camera arrays. But what if we could miniaturize the technology and camouflage a human, and not just a hellicarrier?" His right arm obfuscated by the open attache case, he raises his left arm, and after twenty seconds, closes the case, his right forearm and hand seemingly disappeared.

  "It's not molecular manipulation, or my own particle, but this...is the future of stealth technology."

Hank Pym has posed:
Hank Pym rubs his chin. "Be wary of statements like, "this is the future of." Pym particles were the future of transportation. We're still trying to make them idiot proof. Biplanes were supposed to be the future of aviation. I see two problems with this immediately. Your power source and equipment will have waste heat. the other problem is... on a human scale you can only create a perfect illusion for a single point of view so far. If you can improve on these two issues you have something. You yourself have a third issue. I will address that after hearing your solutions to my first two criticisms."

Damian Wayne has posed:
     "Of course I'm weary of statements like that. You wanted an elevator pitch, something even a layman would understand." Damian's arm reappears now, revealing a gunmetal gauntlet, bulky and seemingly unrefined. "This is my proof of concept. I want to be able to manipulate the EM spectrum to actually provide one hundred percent true invisibility. Which would require a change of materials, and eliminate waste heat from the equation."

  Disconnecting the pack from the gauntlet, the young Wayne removes his forearm and hand from the gauntlet, and rests it on the attache case. "Inside you will find a thorough synopsis of my theory to bend the spectrum and render a human, fully invisible to the specifications in my pitch."

  Damian hands over the folio, upon further inspection, enclosed a hefty amount of documentation and evidence to back up his theory. "I could have taken this to Wayne R&D. But I desired your input, Doctor Pym. As you can see, I have a healthy root in science and engineering, despite my lack of degrees."

Hank Pym has posed:
Hank Pym picks up the folio and begins leafing through it. He picks sheets at random. "I think you will find both my problems non-trivial. But... that wouldn't stop me at your age. Less so now. The third problem... you have access to phenomenal amounts of money presumably. I would like to limit your budget. I'll come up with a number after I look through these. Working with limited funds or materials is something we all face. As for engineering degrees and doctorates... there is this to be said for them... they prove commitment to a long term project. In the long run... unless you are the heir to Waynetech ... or have adopted a rich stepmom..." he says that last with not small amount of disdain, "you will have limits. Working within them can be energizing in a way. And as for not bringing this to WayneTech first... I think you just found a way for me to do free consultation work for them and my hat's off to you. they usually use Dr. Richards' company. Perhaps when you graduate we can talk more about this. It would not be appropriate now. Ah here... I think this s a fair number." He jots down an amount on a sticky note and hands it over. Multitasking.

"Before I forget... I found something for you. It's arou... ah there it is! Damian, if I may call you that, since this is now a personal exchange: Shakespeare was once 'pop culture'. so were a number of the ancient Greek dramas. Some pop culture becomes folk wisdom. Most of it is simply popcorn for the mind. Some of it speaks to the hopes and fears of a generation of culture." He hands Damian a thick and well preserved hardcover coffee table edition -'The Annotated Peanuts.'

Damian Wayne has posed:
     "Non-trivial is correct. It was an issue with the prototype. But now that the concept can work, I know it can be improved upon." The dark haired teen steps back from the gauntlet for a moment, looking at his creation. "Bucking for a hefty consultant fee, Doctor?" He asks, though his grasp on sarcasm is...wanting. "Father actually does not know about this. WayneTech is completely out of the loop."

  His face frowns very briefly as the stepmom is mentioned, he knew exactly who Hank was referring to. Damian glances at the written amount, and raises an eyebrow. "Interesting." He comments, before following. "Damian is my name, after all." Approving of the casual exchange. The offered book is grasped, and the illustration of Charlie Brown and Snoopy on the front gets a bit of a solemn look for a moment. It reminded him of a long gone friend and his dog. "We did not have this...Peanuts, where I am from. But it seems to be engrained in the zeitgeist. Thank you."

Hank Pym has posed:
Hank Pym shakes his head. "Any concept can be improved on. But I couldn't accept any fees or engage in business with WayneTech while you are my student. I could be brought up on charges. Keep me in mind when you're running your own show. You're welcome. I hope you enjoy it. You'll see why I could identify with the characters here."