The Memory Painter

Mozart’s Haydn Quartet emanated from Linz’s car as she pulled up to the entrance of the parking lot. She flashed her badge and ignored the look on the security guard’s face when he saw her name. She was used to getting these reactions.

As she started to park, she glanced at her watch and swore. She was late. There wasn’t even time to stop by the lab. She tied her hair in a knot, and slipped on her lab coat as she entered the building. On her way to the top floor, she fished fake eyeglasses from her purse and put them on. When she stepped out, she looked more like the scientist she claimed to be.

She power walked through the hallway, smiling hello to assistants and secretaries as she whizzed by, all the while wondering how in the world she was going to sneak into the conference room unnoticed. Distracted, she collided with an intern carrying a tray of coffee. A caramel macchiato found a new home all over her lab coat.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry!” The poor intern looked ready to cry, as she grabbed a bunch of napkins and began blotting up the mess.

Linz stopped her from spreading sticky macchiato foam onto her clean shirt underneath. “It’s okay. I’ll live.”

She took off the jacket, and went back to just wearing a not-so-professional T-shirt. Something told her the cute little monster yelling “Hey! Spare Some DNA?” wasn’t going to fly.

The intern was too impressed with Linz’s tattoo to notice. “Cool. I love that. Is that a DNA strand?”

Linz nodded, about to go in. “Could I leave my coat with you?” She opened the doors. Everyone was about to meet the real her—monster, tattoo, and all.

The conference room was packed with board members and project directors. Everyone was sitting around an enormous glass table, listening to the new director of Medicor’s Genome Project, Dr. Parker, give a presentation. Linz still felt annoyed with herself even though she was only a few minutes late. It was the company’s quarterly meeting and the first she’d attended since she had arrived. Talk about a stellar first impression. She took a seat and ignored the inquisitive look from her father, who was seated at the far end of the table.

Dr. Parker was a frail, cerebral-looking man in his late sixties who spoke with an earnestness that made him seem more charismatic than he was. Linz pretended to listen while her thoughts drifted.

So much had happened since the art opening: She had met someone who shared her dream—literally—and she had discovered that she spoke Greek. In her heart, she also knew she had met someone who could change her life if she let him—and if he would stop running out on her. Two days had passed since their strange night together and she hadn’t been able to get him out of her mind. She couldn’t focus on work; her concentration had splintered. He had taken up residence inside her brain, occupying her every thought. Had they really been Origenes and Juliana? What did that mean?

Life itself had suddenly become the puzzle. But at the end of the day, she was still a scientist who dealt with bodies of facts confirmed by evidence, observation, and experiments—and he was an artist who painted dreams. They lived at opposite ends of a spectrum. Two lives had never seemed so far apart.

Her father was speaking now. Linz forced her attention back to the room.

“I think you’ll all agree our Genome Project is on the fast track with Dr. Parker at the helm. I’d also like you all to welcome my daughter, Lindsey, to the Genetics Department. We were lucky to entice her away from Stanford. She and her team are making great strides with her plasticity study.”