1. Chapter One: Million Dollar Morrow (1/2)
chapter
one:
million
dollar morrow
perhaps all this work would pay off. all these years, he had been
swimming in pools; lukewarm, placid, holes in the ground, where the
only waves were produced by your own legs. besides, he had conquered
that, long ago. there wasn't a stroke he couldn't swim. he
decimated the records of spitz, thorpe, phelps, the best of the past.
it was said that perhaps he shouldn't compete in the games, that he
had an unfair advantage. "of course i do," he said during a
famous interview, after his 400-meter freestyle victory at the los
angeles olympics, "the nickname isn't just a catchy phrase."
but the one thing i haven't tried is the english channel cup.
"jerome, you're not giving me a whole lot of time. i have to
train you for a whole different type of swimming in. . .two and a
half months!"
i can do it. i can do anything without
eaking a sweat. with
that gold medal, with all those endorsements, even the olympics were
overshadowed now by the english channel cup. the best swimmers from
all around the world do this, and i practically walked on. i am the
best swimmer in the world. i'm a hero. a damn hero.
well, at least here i am. but after this, the entire world will
know of me. overseas they only care about their baseball stars. only
the swimming community knows of me. that won't be so for very long.
suddenly, the gruff scottish voice of his coach, john mchallan, rang
in his ears. "dammit, jerome! are you even listening? is this
naptime? how many times have i tried to get your attention in the
last two hours!"
"well, i don't know why you find it necessary to drone on for
two hours. this is practice, not a university lecture," jerome
said, and ruffled his now-dried
own hair around.
"and how would you know?" coach mchallan scoffed. "you didn't
go to university. you've been stuck with me."
his blue eyes flashed, "i didn't have to. i'm smart enough. i
passed the tests."
coach mchallan sighed and scratched his belly, "cut the crap,
morrow. this is important. now, the current is. . ." and he
continued to drone. jerome continued not to listen.
it was springtime in his native london, and a very rainy one at
that. jerome eugene morrow peered out the large window cut into the
ick wall of the pool complex. he thought of the trees outside,
drenched with water, lining the street filled with the shrill zip of
electric cars. perhaps all the
itish isles were like london was
now, enveloped by a thick blanket of fog. perhaps after this i'll
go get a scone and coffee and run by the telly shop. . .
"jerome!" mchallan bellowed.
jerome looked up with that usual frown of his. he didn't have to
listen. he was jerome morrow, genetically engineered by the best
scientists and geneticists in the entire world. at the time, he was
said to be the most perfect human specimen to date. "yeah?" he
sneered.
"don't 'yeeahhh' me, jerome. listen, will ye'?"
he lamely replied, "sure."
"this is important, much more so than staring out the window.
you're like a five-year old with attention-deficit-disorder. i get
paid to coach and help you swim better, to keep you motivated, not to
babysit," mchallan whined.
"what's that?" jerome asked.
"what's what?"
"what's attention-whatsit?"
mchallan stared at him blankly, and took off his tweed cabbie hat to
scratch his head. "why, it's that disorder that. . .oh that's
neither here nor there, they engineer it out now."
"oh, i see," jerome distantly nodded and stretched his legs out.
"can i at least get back in the water? i've been sitting here on
the cold floor for all this time."
"no, you can't hear me in there," mchallan shook his head as
he dug in his pocket or something.
perhaps that's the point, jerome thought to himself.
suddenly, a piece of paper landed in his lap. "look that over,