Half Life Jillian Cantor (trending books to read .txt) 📖

“It’s just . . . I would need to get back into her lab. These calculations aren’t quite right. I’d need more testing, and I have a theory that incorporates Hela’s electromagnetic research with my—”

“Kochanie,” Kaz cut me off. He loosened his tie and leaned across all the papers to kiss me softly on the forehead. “I think I can help, with the lab.”

“What?” His words didn’t make sense.

“I’ve spoken to the dean, and Ola’s old lab space has been empty since the war. They plan to hire a new chemistry professor next year, but until then, he said you can use her lab. On the condition that you also clean it out, get it ready for the next professor.”

“Kaz!” I moved the notes aside and jumped across the bed to hug him. “Thank you. This is wonderful news!” The idea of a lab, all my own, even if temporarily, bubbled up inside of me, filled me with new possibility and hope.

IT WAS A STRANGE THING AT FIRST TO BE BACK IN PROFESSOR Mazur’s lab, all alone. There was no one to instruct me, no one to decide what to do. No one at all, but me. Whatever happened here next would be of my doing and mine alone. That was both a glorious and terrifying thought.

The air in the lab smelled stale and somehow smoky even after being closed up all this time. It was windowless, dark, and hot inside, but still, standing here, I could breathe deeply again for the first time in months. My heart thudded wildly in my chest as I unpacked the equipment that had been stored away for years, cleaned off the canisters and combustion and cooling chambers.

I had only a few months to finish Professor Mazur’s lifetime of work, but I had already spent weeks in bed charting out what I would do. If I considered Hela’s theory about electromagnetic energy and applied this to the gas rather than trying to liquefy it, as we had been doing before the war, I theorized I could create an electrically charged detonator.

I wrote both Hela and Pierre for advice, and Hela encouraged me; she was excited by my idea. Pierre wondered if it would be too hard to do it alone. What if I came to Paris, worked on it at the Curie Institute with him and Jacques and Hela and our niece, Marie, a budding scientist? But I was Polish. I belonged here. Any discovery I might make belonged to Poland and to Ola Mazur.

And besides, I like working alone, I wrote back to Pierre. I like making my own choices, being entirely responsible for my own results.

I ROSE FROM BED EACH MORNING AT DAWN, AND THOUGH MY body was exhausted, my mind was utterly alive and buzzing with thoughts and ideas. I spent every waking hour inside my new lab. Sometimes, I did not even come home at night until after Kaz was in bed, already asleep.

One night in April when I made it home in time for dinner, Kaz greeted me at the door with a gentle kiss. Then he picked up my hands, stroked my fingers and frowned. “Kochanie, your fingertips are black.”

I shrugged and wiped sweat from my brow with my free hand. My face was still warm, burning from the heat I’d created in my combustion chamber, and my entire body ached from standing all day. But my mind felt so wonderfully alive that I barely noticed the physical toll the lab was taking on me or the blackness of my fingers.

“You have been working so hard, kochanie,” Kaz was saying now. “Maybe we should take a vacation?”

“I can’t leave,” I told him. “Not now. I don’t have much time left with the lab. I need to seize every moment I can there.”

He nodded. “Well . . . then, maybe I could buy you another bicycle?” he said kindly. “Oh! I could buy two and we could ride them together.”

I smiled at him, grateful for his concern. “That sounds nice,” I lied. In truth, bicycle riding sounded utterly exhausting. And he’d said it on such a whim, I figured he would forget all about it.

But he did not forget. A few weeks later when I got home from the lab, two shiny red bicycles were waiting outside on our front porch. Kaz sat in his rocking chair, smoking his pipe, reading by lamplight in the dusk. He had been waiting for me; he watched for my reaction.

“Oh, Kaz.” I laughed and ran my fingers across the handlebars, noticing the black streaks I left behind on the metal.

“Come, kochanie, take a ride with me.” He stood, putting his book and pipe down.

“Now? It’s late. It’s almost dark out.” Besides that, I was exhausted from standing in the lab all day.

He walked to me and gave me a hug. “So, it is late?” he said into my hair, his breath tickling my neck. “Why not? We are still young.”

I laughed at the absurdity of him believing us to be young, but then I felt a sudden surge of energy, and I wanted to ride. I wanted to feel young and free and light again. I got on the bicycle, and I began to pedal down our street.

“Kochanie, wait. Slow down! You are too fast,” he called after me, laughing, sounding like the young man he once was in Szczuki. Both of us like the young people we once were.

I pedaled and pedaled, Kaz and the wind behind me, meandering through the streets of Krakow, through the gates of the university, not stopping until I was back at my lab. Kaz pedaled in behind me, breathing hard but smiling. “Did you forget something?” Kaz asked, motioning toward my lab.

I shook my head. It was true what I told Pierre, that I liked working alone, liked being in charge of my own results. But I had accomplished something earlier that I wanted to share with someone else now. “I want to show you what I have been working on,”