It was a typical Saturday night on Tavern Row. People were filtering into the bars. The night was just starting and it had promise. Soon enough things would change. They always did. One guy would stand too close to another, or dance with the wrong girl, or not dance with the right one… Whatever started it tonight, the outcome would be the same. There would be a fight, then a brawl that would spill into the parking lot. Moments after that, ‘he’ would show up. No one knew his name. The joke was the smart people called him ‘Sir’. The truth was that the smart people were long gone before he arrived.
*****
The old man slipped into his dream state. He had long ago mastered lucid dreaming and was able to control his dreams perfectly. In this one, he was going to receive the Nobel Prize had had been denied all those years ago. His work in biochemical engineering was legendary 4 decades ago. His work in genetics revolutionized the field. Still, he was never held in any regard beyond ‘quaint’ by his peers. “Too meek”, they said. Not the sort of image to catapult science to the 21st century. This night, in this dream, he would show them. His creation will arrive and stand before them, daring them to not see the man for the genius he was. That he IS.

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