Physics Can Be Fatal Read Online Free PDF Page A

overtures, and despite her best efforts, their relationship had not achieved a physical level.  Sheila was flustered by these moments of opportunity that seemed to keep slipping away.  She feared Donald was trifling with her, leading her on for no reason.
         Not one to back away from a challenge, Sheila pressed on, arranging dinners and secret meetings for the two of them, and ceaselessly continuing her campaign of self-improvement until the day she could crack the nut of Donald Gaylord.  It would be her finest hour!
         Donald’s favorite topic of conversation lately seemed to be Professor Alan Sidebottom, and specifically, the hindrance to Donald’s career Professor Sidebottom posed.  When Sheila pressed Donald for details, he would vaguely reference Sidebottom’s antagonistic attitude toward him––some old resentment over something––and then change the subject.  Because Sheila’s worldview lacked subtlety, she really had no great need for details. She could plainly see that Donald was unsettled by the older professor’s presence at Cushing, and that was reason enough for her to take an adversarial stance. Professor Sidebottom would become her sworn enemy, too. Anything to ally herself with Donald.
         Sheila got up from the sofa and prowled around the house looking for other ways to improve herself, ways to make herself irresistible to Donald.  The little wheels started to turn and she began to focus on the possibility of a new avenue toward winning over Donald’s affections. 
         She sat at the computer and typed in ‘Alan Sidebottom’
     
    *
     
         Helen Mann knocked on Mitchell Fender’s office door.  She heard a soft ‘thud’ and a muffled response that she took for ‘come in’.  She swept into his office.
         Helen’s knock had awoken him.  Mitchell stood up quickly from the crumpled sofa and cleared his throat several times.  Clearly embarrassed, he hurriedly tucked in his shirt and attempted to smooth out the wrinkles in it with a series of brisk hand swipes.
         “I’ve not been sleeping very well at night,” he said apologetically.  “I lay down for a short rest and must have dozed off.  Please, sit down.”
         Helen took a seat in a chair facing Mitchell.  She hunched forward, her pants-suited legs apart, elbows resting on her thighs, hands clasped.  She evoked the image of a coach gathering her thoughts for a heart-to-heart talk with a struggling player.
         “You should be taking something at night to help you sleep, Mitch.  Stop by the pharmacy on your way home and pick up a sleep aid, okay?  But that’s not what I came to see you about,” Helen said.
         “I’m concerned about you and Alan Sidebottom,” she continued.  “We can’t have any internecine feuds going on.  Getting Alan here at Cushing this semester is going to translate into big contributions from our alums––and in turn, extra-funding for the department.  I wouldn’t blame you for whatever ill will you might harbor against Alan––everyone knows the man’s a prick.  Highly successful, but a prick, all the same.  I just don’t want the department getting sidetracked by having to choose sides in an old fight.  I think you read me, am I right, Mitch?  You follow me?  We on the same page?”
         Mitchell tapped the side of his nose with a forefinger.
         “You can count on me,” he said solemnly.  “I’m a team player all the way.”
     
    *
                                                                                            
         Edwina arrived at Sanborn House early Friday evening.  She knew her early arrival was not really necessary because of the fact that Charlotte Cadell, the Sanborn House Librarian, was nothing if not efficient, and lived for events such as these.  Charlotte would have everything