From: finifter@gandalf.rutgers.edu (Tracy E. Finifter) Newsgroups: alt.ql.creative Subject: Roundtable Genesis Summary: The first installment of the Quantum Leap Roundtable Keywords: QL Quantum Leap creative Roundtable Message-ID: Date: 11 Jan 93 02:26:12 GMT Organization: Rutgers Univ., New Brunswick, N.J. Lines: 611 Sorry it took so long, folks, but better late than never, right? Here it is, as promised, the first installment of the Quantum Leap Roundtable. Enjoy! ** ROUNDTABLE GENESIS ** or ** LIFE'S DERIVATIVES ** In a flash of blue-white light, Sam found himself seated at a cramped desk. He looked around the room and found two beds, one on either side of the room. In between the beds there was clutter ranging from dirty clothes to battered text books. On the walls were posters ranging in subjects from Beauty and the Beast (the Disney movie) to Star Trek to the Sierra Club. Closer to him stood a closet, split down the middle. One side was pretty much neat and orderly, perhaps a bit sparse, while the other side seemed to overflow with a rainbow assortment of garments. A closer look at his desk revealed scattered papers, a Macintosh computer set to the side, and a Far Side desk calendar revealing the date December 13, 1992. The room had all the tell-tale signs of a college dorm and Sam smiled at the memories it brought back. "Hey chica, what's up?" Came a voice from the hallway. Sam jerked around in time to see a girl come into the room. She was short with brown hair and eyes and a broad smile that burst with energy. "Not much," Sam said as casually has his post-leap confusion would allow. "What about you?" "Just did my work out, now I'm going to shower, then hit the books!" Her tone grew somber, almost depressed, "Micro exam *tomorrow*. Ugh!" "Micro... biology?" Sam asked, hopeful that he might be able to use some of medical knowledge in a non-life threatening situation. The girl turned to Sam with a horrified gaze. "What? No! Micro-economics! You know that." She turned back to what she was doing. "Thank God I don't have to take micro-biology." Sam sorrowfully turned back to his desk. "That's a shame. I could've helped you." The girl swung around and gaped at Sam again. "Are you serious? You *hate* biology." _Uh, oh_, Sam thought, _I better shut my mouth before I blow my cover._ "I was just kidding." Sam put on his most sheepish smile. "Right. Study your calc," commanded the still unnamed girl and looked back at Sam with a confused expression, then leaving the room and into the neighboring bathroom. Sam watched after her, trying to figure out how else he could blow this leap. "You know, she reminds me a little of my fourth wife, now what was her name?" Sam jumped at the sound of the observer's voice. "Al! Don't sneak up on me like that! How many times do I have to tell you?" The girl poked her head through the doorway. "You say something, Liz?" Sam turned back to the girl. "No." "Oh, okay." Al started following her into the bathroom when Sam stepped in his way. Not that it mattered much, Sam realized, but maybe Al would at least get the message. "Oh, all right Sam!" Al muttered in disappointment. Sam walked over and closed the door before returning his attention to the hologram. "Al! Can I have some names, please? I've only been here a few minutes, but I'm already screwing things up." "Relax, Sam. The cavalry's here." Al leaned on his heels, popped a cigar in his mouth, and pulled out his handlink from his scarlet-red pant's pocket. "Let's see, your name is Elizabeth Stuart and you're a sophomore at Rutgers University. Your roommate there is Kelly Brande, senior pre-law student." "Is she why I'm here?" Sam asked. "No, Ziggy doesn't know why you're here yet, but it's not for her." Al started poking at the handlink. "For Elizabeth, then?" "No, there's only a 37.4% chance you're hear to help Elizabeth pass her calculus exam so she can get into the computer science department." Before Sam could display his frustration, there was a knock at the door. "Come in," Sam called, hopeful that more information would come through. "Hey Liz, what's up?" greeted the brunette that entered. "That's either Lynn Roland or Joan Goldberg. They share the apartment." "Not much...Joan," Sam answered, rather feebly and hoping that he picked the right name. He apparently had. "Still bummed out about your calc exam, huh?" "Yeah, well, I'll get by," he replied, bluffing his way through the conversation. "How are your exams going?" he asked, figuring correctly that it must be exam time at Rutgers University. "One more and I'm *done*, thank God. What are you doing over break?" "I don't know," Sam answered honestly. "Right now, it doesn't seem like I'm going to have much of a break any time soon." "Cheer up, finals will be over sooner than you think," Joan comforted, entirely unaware of the full meaning of Sam's statement. "I'll let you get back to work." "Thanks," Sam muttered and turned back to Al as Joan left. "I'll go back and see what more I can get from Ziggy," Al said, stepping into the Imaging Chamber door. With the press of a button, he was gone. Sam decided it would be best if he took a look around and familiarize himself with his latest surroundings. He stepped out into the hallway and found, much to his comfort, that he was indeed living in a full fledged, albeit college owned, apartment rather than a typical dorm. It would save a lot of potentially embarrassing bathroom situations. He walked into the living room to see a pretty blonde girl putting on a coat. "Hi...Lynn. Where are you going?" "To the dining hall," she said simply. While the other two girls had seemed energetic and outgoing, Lynn seemed much quieter but with a certain gentleness that Sam found attractive. Dinner sounded like a good idea to Sam, who never really knew how long he went between meals from one leap to the next. Besides, going to the dining hall seemed as good as place as any to learn more about the leapee and her friends. "Let me get my coat and I'll come with you." "You will?" Lynn asked with mild surprise. "Great." Figuring his persona didn't often go to the dining hall, Sam looked at the kitchen, trying to figure out a cover. "Well, I don't feel like cooking tonight." Lynn seemed to accept the excuse as Sam rushed back to his room and grabbed a coat he hoped belonged to Liz. At the dining hall, Sam shriveled a nose at the food served. It was dry, fatty, and overcooked, just like every other dining hall dinner he had ever eaten. _Some things never change,_ Sam thought happily. Walking from the serving to the seating areas, a pleasant looking boy caught Sam's attention. "Liz, over here!" he called. Sam and Lynn headed over and took two empty seats at the boy's table. "Hi Greg," Lynn said quietly. "Hi Lynn. How's calc going, Liz?" "Oh, fine," Sam muttered. Inwardly, he was glad to see that Liz's friends were so interested in her progress, but he also thought that if her calculus exam was anytime soon and she needed the work, he'd better fix whatever he had to so he could leap out and she could get back to studying. Sam looked around the table. In addition to Greg, Lynn, and himself, there were two other boys, one an energetic blonde who, judging from his physique, must have been on at least three varsity sports teams. The other didn't look like much of anything and he sat picking at his food, not seeming particularly interested in the conversation or anything else for that matter. He looked very depressed. "What's wrong?" Sam asked of him. It took a few seconds for the boy to realize that Sam was talking to him. When he finally did, he seemed to brush off the question. "Wrong? Nothing's wrong. Nothing at all." It was the kind of vehement defiance that meant exactly the opposite of the words used. "There's plenty wrong, Sam," Al said from behind and Sam had to fight every instinct in his body to turn around. "That there is Sean Jacobson and tonight..." his voice trailed off momentarily, "he kills himself by running his car into a telephone pole. Sam suddenly cringed and looked quickly down at his plate, hoping that if he couldn't hide his emotions he could at least keep them out of view from the others. Nevertheless, an "Oh boy" came out. "What Liz?" Greg asked. "Nothing, I just have to, uh, go to the bathroom for a minute. Excuse me." Because Al was behind him, Sam didn't see the hologram roll his eyes skyward. Sam headed towards the dining hall's bathrooms and almost walked into the men's room until Al shouted out to him, "Not in there, Sam, in here!" Sam did a quick about-face and headed into the ladies room. Thankfully, no one but Al was in there. "What happened, Al?" Al was busy punching buttons on the handlink and frowning at the results of his efforts. "Well, according to the police reports, Sean was DWI..." "Driving While Intoxicated," Sam remembered out loud. "Yeah, and ran into a phone pole on a local road at 1:51 A.M. Ziggy gives the odds at 94.5% that you're here to prevent that. But you know, if you ask me, there was more to it than just an accident." "You're saying it was suicide? Why?" "Let's see," Al started fiddling with the handlink, giving it a whack every five seconds, "two weeks ago, his father was transferred to Albuquerque and the family is moving over break, he's failing two classes already and is in danger of being kicked out of his major if he doesn't pass them this semester, and to top things off, his girlfriend dumped him. It looks to me like Sean was looking to end it all. It's just amazing that no one else was hurt." Sam's only response was a sigh. In the mirror, a brown-haired, brown-eyed girl sighed with him. "All right, Al, what can I do?" "Well, let's see if Ziggy has anything useful. Right here, one of the classes he's failing is calculus, and he's in the same class as Liz." "That's great, I can help him study." "That's it, Sam. As long as you're with him, you can watch him and make sure he doesn't do anything he won't live to regret." Sam relaxed a moment and began to think. "Jacobson, why does that name sound familiar?" Al's tone grew slightly more nervous. "You must have met someone named Jacobson on another leap," he replied. No sense in bothering Sam with the truth. Sam seemed satisfied with the explanation. After countless years, his leaps sometimes seemed to blur together. And through it all was Al, whose valuable information gave him the means to help all the people he encountered from decade to decade. "Thanks, Al." "What are holograms for?" Al said with a lighter tone. He didn't need Sam to say everything he felt to understand what he meant. Besides, he hated too much sentiment. With an assured nod, he summoned the Imaging Chamber door and stepped back into the future. Sam walked back out of the bathroom just in time to see Sean walking out of the dining hall. Sam ran to catch up with him. "Sean, wait up!" he called. Sean stopped and looked at Sam. He looked even more morbid than he had at the table. "What do you want?" he asked with a tinge of anger. "Do you want to study calc together tonight?" Sam asked nervously. "No, thanks," Sean responded flatly and turned to walk away. "Sean, wait..." Sam pleaded. "What?" Sean snapped. "Uh, don't you think it would be a good idea? I mean, we can help each other, right?" "I just don't feel like it." Sean walked away. "I don't feel like doing anything. Sam slowly walked back into the dining hall and back to his table. The other boys had already left and Lynn was chatting with another girl who had joined her. "Oh, Liz," she said, "I want you to meet my friend Kass. She was my roommate freshman year." "Hi," Sam said halfheartedly. "What's wrong?" Lynn inquired. "Oh, it's Sean. He's... uh... really stressed with finals." "Which one was he?" Kass asked. "The shorter one with the dark hair and red jacket," Lynn answered. "Ah," Kass said. "Listen, I'm not really hungry. I'm going back to the apartment." Sam excused himself and started heading out of the dining hall. "Okay, Liz. I'm probably going over Kass's after here to study." "All right," Sam answered and headed back to 'his' apartment in the cool December evening air. Once back, Sam busied himself on Liz's computer, trying figure out what to do next. There was only so much he could do during a leap, but inactivity was never welcome. Sam looked at the clock which read 6:42 P.M. If he only knew where Sean lived, he would go over and invite himself in, whether Sean wanted the help or not. Sam dismissed the notion, figuring that pushing too hard might make things worse than they already were. But then again, what could be worse than Sean's future as it already was? he debated with himself. For one, he could alienate Sean even further to the point where Sam wouldn't be able to help him when the time. No, he had to do something and do it now. Ironically, time wasn't a luxury often afforded to Sam. All he needed was Sean's dorm assignment, but without Al he was out of luck. Looking at the computer, he thought _Maybe not._ He started hacking away, finally finding his way into the Rutgers information networks, complete with dorm assignments. It wasn't Ziggy, but it was enough to get the information he needed. Grabbing Liz's calc book, he headed to Sean's dorm. Sean's dorm wasn't hard to find, thanks to the directory signs posted around the campus. He knocked lightly on Sean's door. "What?" came an angry voice from the other side. "Sean, it's Liz," answered Sam. "I was just hoping you might reconsider my offer." After an uncomfortable moment of silence, Sean flung the door open. "Why do you keep bugging me like this?" he asked angrily. Sam could smell the alcohol on his breath. "Because I need help and I have a feeling that you do too." "Well, that shows you how much you know. I don't need any help in anything. Good night." He tried to slam the door in Sam's face, but at the last second, Sam stuck his foot in, blocking it. "What good is shutting yourself from people who want to help you?" Sam asked. "Listen, Liz, I don't know why you're so dead-set on helping me with whatever it is you think I need help with, but you can just forget about it. I'm perfectly capable of helping myself." "I'm not so sure about that," Sam said flatly. Sometimes the only way to persuade someone that he needed help was to force him to accept it. With that theory, Sam pushed his way into Sean's room. "Hey!" Sean exclaimed, taken aback by the show of strength coming from the girl he thought he saw. Sean's room was much smaller than Liz's, or maybe it just seemed that way from the piles of dirty clothes and pizza boxes that covered the floor and were a foot thick. Most of the walls were decorated with posters of bikini-clad women and rock bands, but next to Sean's desk there was a poster of a beautiful seascape, painted in almost a surrealistic, fantasy style. Sean, resigned to the fact that his uninvited guest wasn't going to leave him alone any time soon, just went over and jumped onto his bed, along the way blasting the stereo which was playing something that only vaguely sounded like music to Sam. "Do you really have to play that so loud?" Sam asked at the top of his lungs. "Other people might be trying to study." Sean didn't answer. After a long silence from the boy, Sam turned the volume down on the stereo himself. He then went to Sean's desk, cleared off a space, sat down, and opened the calc book. "Let's start with derivatives," he suggested. "You know what the problem with women is?" Sean asked Sam. Having seen womanhood from both sides, Sam decided not to answer. "They just never seem to take the hint," Sean answered for him. "Is that why you and your girlfriend broke up?" Sam ventured. "Because she couldn't 'take the hint'?" Sean looked at him in disbelief. "How did you know about that?" Sam drew back. "I don't know what else could make a guy so angry." "Well, it wasn't *my* fault!" he snapped. "She dumped you?" "Yeah. Without any reason, either. Can you believe it?" The angry young man suddenly chuckled. "Well, at least I can go away now without leaving any ties behind." A sudden shiver of fear swept through Sam. Was he already planning his suicide? he wondered. "Uh, where are you going?" he shakily inquired. Sean curled himself up into a ball and looked down at his feet. "Hell. Also known as New Mexico," he answered, his tone suddenly depressed again. Sam breathed a small sigh of relief. At least Sean was beginning to talk about his problems, that was a start. All he needed was encouragement. "Why are you going to New Mexico?" Sean sighed. "My dad. All I know is that he was transferred there to work on some project." "Oh, and you don't want to go?" "Believe it or not, I actually like New Jersey. I've lived in Sandy Hook all my life. Born and bred by the sea. I have my friends here and everything that I know. What is there for me in New Mexico? Nothing but cactus and tumbleweed." Sam managed a small smile which Sean didn't notice. That had been his exact feelings when it was first decided to establish Project Quantum Leap in the desert. He was a farm boy, and not even the beauties of Boston where he spent so much of his adult life could change that. A world without corn fields was, quite simply, not someplace he wanted to call home. "I can certainly understand the feeling, but I'm sure you and your dad can figure something out that you can still study here." "I already sent in an application to the University of New Mexico for a transfer. My dad can't afford to send me cross country for two and a half more years, not on what the government pays him. And I sure can't afford to live here myself. So that, as they say, is that." Sean somehow managed to draw himself into a tighter ball, a feat that Sam would not have thought possible. "Well, maybe I can't help with that," Sam admitted, "but I can help you with calculus. You need good grades to get into UNM." "Yeah," Sean shrugged. "I guess so." Feeling that he had at least earned Sean's trust, Sam spent the next three hours working with him. They went over old test papers, which Sean had gotten a "D" or an "F" on every one. He knew the material, that much was obvious to Sam, he just lacked the care he needed to apply himself. During the course of their study, Sean and Sam drifted over several topics of conversation, mostly concerning Sean's academic and extracurricular activities. Sam found that the young man was actually pretty friendly company, when he wasn't letting emotions and beer get the better of him. In that way, he reminded Sam of Al when they had first met. Eventually the topic turned to academic majors. "Uh, computer science," Sam recalled when Sean asked him what Liz was studying. "What about you?" "Physics," Sean muttered. "Excuse me for saying so, but you don't seem particularly thrilled about it. Why did you chose physics?" Sean shrugged. "I don't know. It's all I really know anything about. My dad's a physicist." Sam wanted to keep Sean's father out of the conversation. Through the course of the evening, it had become clear to him that there was quite a bit of tension between the two, but no more than was usual for a teenager and his father. Then again, just that much was enough to make it a sore topic. "Can I see some of your physics papers?" Sam offered. Sean reached into a nearby pile and pulled out a handful of exams which Sam inspected. They were worse than the calc exams, all of them having large red "F"s on the front pages. "Have you ever thought about maybe looking into another major if you're unhappy with physics? After all, you're only a sophomore and Rutgers is a big school." "Who said I was unhappy with physics?" "You did, just not in so many words." Sean was about to protest, but decided against it. He realized that Sam was making sense. He looked to the seascape painting with a dreamy look in his eye. "The one class that I'm actually doing well in this semester is one I took as an elective, Elements of Oceanography. Some elective, huh? I was even thinking of transferring to Cook and majoring in oceanography. But my dad would never go for it. Besides, I don't think that UNM has much of an oceanography department." He suddenly grew angry again and tore the seascape poster down. "Who am I kidding? 'New Mexico has a terrific physics program, Sean,'" he quoted to himself, apparently words of wisdom from his father. "It's not your dad's life that you have to live, Sean. It's yours, and you should do whatever will make you happy." Sam recalled giving similar speeches to others during the course of his leaping, but in every case it was true. Too many times, Sam had seen people trying so hard to live up to others' expectations that it usually made their own lives miserable. "Okay," Sean said after a while. "You're right. I'm going to call my dad and tell him that I'm staying in Jersey." His tone was of blind determination, the kind of expression used by soldiers ready to march into battle, unwilling to recognize that they were outnumbered. "That's not going to work, Sam," Al informed. Sam, unable to respond, focused his attention on Sean. "Do you really think that's a good idea, Sean?" Sean gave him a look of total disbelief. "What? What about all that stuff we've been talking? You were right. I've got to take a stand!" "Sam, there's a 97% chance that confronting his father isn't going to change anything. He'll just say no, and Sean will still die in a car accident." "I meant that maybe you should try to talk to your father, not confront him, and try to work out a compromise." Sean growled in frustration and then started storming his way out of the room. "Where are you going?" Sam called after him in near panic. "To the bathroom, unless you think that wouldn't be a good idea?" His voice was pure sarcasm. He continued on his way out. Sam started to follow him, but Al spoke up. "No, Sam. He's safe for tonight." Sam relaxed, but just a little. "What happens now, Al?" "Well, you changed history. He isn't going anywhere tonight. Instead, he dies in a car accident on Friday, thanks also to drunk driving. Only this time, he takes three innocent people with him." "Oh, God," Sam sighed. "Now, don't worry Sam. We'll figure something out. You were right when you suggested that he try to work out a compromise instead." "Yeah, but what, Al? Sean's a very strong-willed boy and from what I gathered from him, he gets it from his father." "That's probably true," Al remarked under his breath. "What is it, Al?" Sam asked with a touch of impatience. "What's what?" Al asked, his face a mask of feigned innocence. "There's something you're not telling me." He glared at the hologram with the most intimidating stare he could muster. It worked. "Aw, Sam," Al gave in. "You can't ever tell him I told you this, but this is Ron Jacobson's kid." "Ron Jacobson, I remember him now. He worked on the design specs for the accelerator chamber with us. A short man, always wears a bow tie, right?" Ron was also one of the stubbornest members of the project, a mixed blessing in a scientist. While he was always determined to prove his theories, he never wanted to be told he was wrong, about anything. "That's him," admitted Al. "He always blamed himself for Sean's death. He said he pushed him too hard into doing what he wanted him to do and didn't listen to Sean." "All right, then. Once Sean's calmed down a little, we'll see if we can get both of them to see reason." "Okay, Sam." Just then, Sean came back in. "Feeling better?" Sam ventured. "Not really," Sean muttered, more depressed than angry now. "You know, I was thinking..." Sam started. "Careful, Sam," Al cautioned. Sam just shot him a dirty glance before continuing. "Albuquerque's a lot closer to the Pacific Ocean than the Atlantic. Maybe you could look into something out there?" "California? Thanks but no, I'll take the rattlesnakes over the middle-aged hippies and earthquakes." Sam sighed with his expression of false resignation. "Oh well, like father like son, I guess." "What is that supposed to mean?" Sean shot. "Yeah, Sam. What *was* that supposed to mean?" "Well, I was just thinking that your determination to stay here is about as single-minded as your father's desire to have you transfer to UNM is." "You don't think that I could convince him to let me go to school in California, do you?" Sean responded, as if he were accepting a challenge. Inwardly, Sam smiled. Maybe he *didn't* have a doctorate in psychology, but taught maybe he should consider pursuing one once he was finished leaping. Al consulted his handlink. "Hey, Sam, that worked," he noted with pleasant surprise. "Instead of challenging his father to let him stay in New Jersey, Sean convinces him to let him go to the University of California, San Diego where he graduates with a degree in oceanography. He eventually goes on to teaching, and marries a girl named Kassandra Parker..." "Liz? Is that you?" called Lynn from the hallway. She came in Sean's open door with Kass behind you. "Oh, hi Sean. I want you to meet my friend Kass. She's from San Diego..." This time, Sam didn't need Al's information to know what the future was going to bring. The three college students' smiles were the last thing he saw as a flood of blue light took over. *** A cool breeze and a cheering crowd were the first sensations Sam realized when he leaped in. Taking a look around, he found himself on the top of a flight of steps which led to the airplane he was standing in. Unsure of what else to do, he slowly started descending down the steps, finding a red carpet lying on the runway below. On either side of the carpet stood reporters and photographers, all battling to get a closer look at Sam from behind the string of secret service agents and policemen. Somewhere nearby, a brass band started playing "Hail to the Chief." In all his confusion, Sam looked back to see the plane he came off of was Air Force 1. "Oh, boy." -- to be continued by Charles Cohen -- -- Tracy E. Finifter | Home address: 560 Gravelly Run finifter@gandalf.rutgers.edu | Mays Landing, NJ 08330 Douglass College - Rutgers University | (609) 625-7369 New Brunswick, NJ | Dialing in through Camden is not fun.