“This is the dashboard.” I tapped the screen which showed a series of graphs and dials. “Each player has his own; and then they’re all compiled on the main screen here.” I flicked onto another page.
“How does it know what to monitor? You must need to find a base rate first, right?”
I nodded. “Right. When we first set them up, we record everything we want the sensors to detect; base heart rate, hydration levels, metabolism – that kind of thing. During each game we observe the changes, and can make adjustments as they happen.” I watched a frown form on his face. “It seems complicated, but it’s easy to set up. Maybe an hour for each player to be tested, then the program does the rest. But eventually we can use the information to design specific training programs for each player.”
He took the laptop, swiping across the screens. My eyes began wandering around his office, to the framed pictures of him and Lowe; one of him with a couple of guys and a dog; another of him and someone I knew to be Lucian Shepherd, his grandfather. I’d seen him once; he’d been with the N.A.S.A. Administrator in Houston. It wasn’t hard to understand where Penn got his drive from.
I glanced back at him just as his mouth straightened into a line. “If I put the shirt on, will it come up here?”
“No, not that one, it’s just a demo, but I can get one for you this week if you want to try it.
“Yeah, I do.” He tapped against a graph of wavy lines. “What’s this right here?”
I peered round the screen to see what he was pointing at. “Muscle fatigue.”
His eyes bulged in excitement. Personally, I thought sweat rate was more exciting, but each to their own. “Marnie, what the… are you serious?”
“Yeah,” I grinned again.
“And they use it in Space?”
I nodded. “Something similar, yes.”
He stood up and rounded his desk before sitting again. “How did you get ahold of it?”
“An old colleague of mine has been developing it. I’ve been talking to him, and he’s said we can have it.”
“Have it?” One thick brow shot up skeptically.
“Well… buy it. He’s interested in getting into sports because he thinks it’ll be more lucrative than the government, so we’ll likely get it cheap.”
“I have two questions.” He held up one finger, followed by another. “How many zeros are we talking, and how soon can we get it?”
“I’ll follow up with him this morning and ask. We’re not talking less than six zeros, and I don’t know. Soon, I hope, but it’ll take a little time to set up.”
He leaned back in his chair, arms linking behind his head. “Give him another zero if we can get it finalized in the next two weeks, and we have exclusivity on the material for a minimum of one season, preferably two. And,” his eyes widened as another stipulation came to him, “The Yankees or the Mets aren’t ever allowed to access it. Talk to Beulah; she’ll help draw up the contract, but don’t do anything without her present. I don’t care if you are friends with this guy. I want this, and I don’t want anyone else to have it.”
There was that famous, not-taking-no-for-an-answer Shepherd I’d met last year. He was the same as the Shepherd with the seemingly bottomless pockets.
I nodded. “Sure, I’ll see what I can do.”
“Great,” he looked at his watch, “MELONY!”
I nearly fell off my chair as he yelled, then again when Melony peered around the door less than a second later. Christ! This caffeine was driving me crazy!
“You have an intercom you know.”
“I know,” he replied, though I wasn’t sure that was entirely true. “Can you get me the Commissioner’s office?”
And just like every other time, the meeting was over without him ever really saying it was over. Penn’s day just seemed to flow from one appointment to the next.
“I’ll see myself out.” I thumbed behind me, then gathered up my things as he waved me goodbye.
I left his office feeling much less jittery than I had while I’d been waiting for him.
Or a little bit less.
However, the jitters started up again as soon I got back to my office; or they fluttered up from my belly until they were banging a rhythm against my heart.