REPOST: "Roundtable A #1: Genesis (or Life's Derivatives)", Part01/10

[Mark D. Baushke]

Submitted-by: "Tracy E. Finifter" <fini...@gandalf.rutgers.edu>
Archive-URL: ftp://ftp-eng.cisco.com/ql-archive/alt.ql.creative/
Archive-name: roundtable-a/roundtable-a.p01

======= start Story Guide Entry =======

TITLE: "Roundtable A #1: Genesis (or Life's Derivatives)"
AUTHOR: "Tracy E. Finifter" <fini...@gandalf.rutgers.edu>
ARCHIVE NAME: roundtable-a
SYNOPSIS: Sam leaps into a college co-ed who must prevent a fellow
student from ending his life in a car accident.
NOTES: First in the Roundtable series
# OF CHAPTERS: 1
EPISODE REF: Before "Mirror Image"
SEQUEL TO: N/A
TYPE OF STORY: crossover_____ with ____________________
parody_____
script_____
roundtable__x__
drama__x__
comedy_____

======= end Story Guide Entry =======

From: fini...@gandalf.rutgers.edu (Tracy E. Finifter)
Subject: Roundtable Genesis
Date: 11 Jan 93 02:26:12 GMT

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
fini...@gandalf.rutgers.edu | Mays Landing, NJ 08330
Douglass College - Rutgers University | (609) 625-7369
New Brunswick, NJ | Dialing in through Camden is not fun.