The OMEN project and the DAMIEN station

It turned out to be simple. Professor Trottelreiner had just had a drink or two and, slightly losing his balance, fell into a ditch. His behavior seemed incongruous with his status as the greatest scientist who stood at the forefront of astronautics. But that didn't satisfy me. I expected something more impressive from him, not such a casual, everyday fall into a ditch. A man who could change the future of humanity should not forget himself like that.

I looked at him suspiciously, but still extended my hand to help him up.

"Are you all right, Professor?" I repeated the question, trying to discern in his eyes at least a shadow of the genius I expected to see.

He pulled his jacket down again, buttoned it, and staggered a little, but still stood straight.

"Okay, okay," he said with a slight grin. "Just drifted away from reality for a minute. It happens."

I felt annoyed. This was not the man I had imagined. This unperturbed, slightly cheeky fellow with glasses and a cheerful look was far from the image of a hermit scientist who works tirelessly, burning with love for science and discovery. I expected greatness, but instead I saw an ordinary man who had become carried away by easy pleasures.

"Professor..." I started again, but this time with insistence, "I need to talk to you about the OMEN project. You have discovered a new theory that opens up new horizons for humanity, and I want to be a part of it."

He looked at me, his gaze becoming more focused, but then immediately returning to its former lightness.

"The project? Oh, yes, of course, OMEN. Do you want to be on the program?" he asked, almost as if he was joking, his voice less confident. "It's not as easy as it sounds. But it might be worth considering. Who knows?"

I didn't know what to do. Something inside me turned over: this was not just a meeting with a great scientist, but a meeting with a person whose ambitions and intelligence might not be so deep. But still, I decided not to give up.

"I am ready to do whatever it takes to get into your project, professor. I am not here for nothing, I believe that I can help."

The professor, his colleague Tarantogha and I boarded a bus full of people and immediately realized that this would be a journey no one would forget. The bus was cramped, crowded and noisy: conductors shouted their usual phrases, passers-by pushed their way through the crowd with difficulty, and the professor and I tried not to be too noticeable, but at the same time to stay in shape.

However, the professor apparently decided that this atmosphere was ideal for the beginning of the lecture. Before the bus had even pulled away, he turned to me and began to passionately talk about the OMEN project.

"Now," he began, brushing imaginary dust from his jacket, "what's important to understand in the first phase of the project is that we're using new methods of gravity that can..." and then his voice was interrupted by the conductor's shouts:

"Tickets, give me tickets, who doesn't have a ticket?!"

The professor didn't lose his composure and continued his lecture, despite all the external distractions, with such passion as if he was trying to convince not only me but the entire bus that this was a great discovery for humanity. I began to think that maybe he really was not himself and someone had accidentally replaced him with a double.

"My colleagues and I are conducting experiments that…" he began again, and then the bus suddenly braked, sending all the standing passengers into aerial acrobatics.

Tarantoga, who was sitting next to him, managed to grab the handrail, but the professor showed no emotion. Apparently, against the backdrop of his scientific ambitions, there was no room for ordinary human experiences. He continued to explain the concept of "parallel realities", not noticing how his lecture was becoming not only funny, but also completely inappropriate in this situation.

"So, my colleagues and I are looking for ways..." he tried again, but at that moment the bus skidded into a hole, and all the passengers, including the professor, swayed to the side, sending him straight into Tarantoga's knee.

Tarantoga, without losing his composure for a second, muttered:

"Maybe, instead of lectures, we should give the command "stand up"?"

But the professor was not distracted. He continued in his own style:

"Gravity... parallel dimensions... a completely new theory! But if you and I could really fly..."

I watched this with surprise and slight irritation. It seemed that the professor had not noticed that the bus had turned into a swaying concert hall, and his lecture into an impromptu scientific circus. But as soon as we finally arrived at the right stop, the professor finished his monologue with a solemn expression on his face.

"So, I'm sure we can change the world. Now, who's going to go next?"

I looked at his satisfied face and thought: maybe I really got into the project, but it seems that in order to get into OMEN, I need to master not only scientific terms, but also the ability to survive on crowded buses.

The professor, sitting on the bus, continued his lecture with such energy as if we were all gathered in a hall for scientific debates, and not in an overcrowded bus on the Bangkok highway. His colleague, Tarantoga, smiled and sighed strangely, and I tried to find the slightest chance to get out of this theater of the absurd.

"So," said the professor, choking with indignation at the conductor's interruption in mid-sentence, "the OMEN project! It's an acronym, yes, but what an acronym! It stands for Observational Methods for Establishing Navigation!"

I turned to Tarantog, who looked as if he had been listening for more than one time.

"It means that we are developing observation methods to create a completely new approach to space navigation!" the professor continued, his voice shaking with excitement. "With the help of advanced technologies, we will be able to track not only the vector of movement, but also predict space disasters! Rockets will become as precise as a drawing scratched with a ruler, do you understand?"