Trevor and the Goo

A boy dares to elevate science above the frivolities of man.

Trevor was eleven years old when he won first place in the middle school science fair. He built a custom water filtration system, which was nothing novel. What impressed the judges was drinking filtered water from one of the school’s toilets. A sixth grader had never been awarded first place, and Mrs. Kirkpatrick, the middle school science teacher, was quick to praise him.

“You’re such a smart boy,” Mrs. Kirkpatrick said. “So full of curiosity and ingenuity, and a good deal of showmanship. That’s just as important in science these days — showmanship.”

Trevor’s parents beamed with pride, taking every opportunity they could to brag about their budding scientist. His dad made him a special trophy, feeling that the ribbon didn’t adequately communicate the significance of first place. Even Trevor’s little sister, Sally, paid him a compliment in her own special way.

“I guess you’re not such a booger-brain after all,” Sally said.

When the dust settled from the science fair, the notoriety did not. Trevor’s family and teachers continued to encourage his scientistic endeavors, prompting him to create increasingly elaborate experiments and extravagant performances. The most memorable being a custom fireworks display highlighting how the construction and chemical composition was used to produce various colors and effects. Never mind that a few were store bought.

The sheriff was called by an elderly neighbor that mistook the loud blasts for gunfire, but when he discovered it was Trevor, he acted more like a grand marshal.

“Stand back everyone! Give the boy some room to work,” the sheriff said. “I’m sure he has taken the appropriate safety precautions, being a scientist and all. We don’t want to distract him. Let’s all enjoy the performance.”

Even the mayor caught wind of Trevor’s exploits and presented him with a special science award in an attempt to drum up publicity for their small town.

“We should all strive to be more like this young boy,” the mayor said at a ceremony. “I’ve never seen a student combine his love of science with such fabulous entertainment. We could all use a little more entertainment around here.”

After school one day, while walking near a large storm drain outlet in the woods, Trevor came across a swirling green goo floating in stagnant water. When he poked it with a stick the goo retreated. Excited by his find, he ran home to retrieve an old fishbowl to collect it. Upon returning with the goo, Trevor’s parents asked him why all the commotion.

“Oh, you’ll see, it’s going to be the greatest science experiment of all. I think I’ve discovered a new carbon-based life form,” Trevor said.

His parents perked up instantly, and his dad said, “Well, get on with it boy, the men at work have been asking about your next exhibition. Let’s not keep everyone in suspense.”

Trevor took the goo to his room to study it. He observed and documented all of its characteristics. A scalpel was used to slice off a tiny piece of the goo. When Trevor cut through it, the goo recoiled, indicating a defense mechanism and possibly intelligence.

Looking under a microscope revealed the movement of tiny organisms. Identifying them would require more research, but Trevor was tired. He set his alarm clock to wake early before school, placed a pencil and notepad next to his bed in case inspiration struck, then went to sleep.

The young boy dreamt of vast solar systems, comets, supernovas and the deep reaches of space. He sailed across the rings of Saturn, circled around the sun and then found himself bubbling up from hydrothermal vents in the deepest oceans of the Earth. When he woke up the next morning, the goo was gone. It was a part of Trevor. They were one. They were Trevor-Goo.

Nausea and vomiting followed. Trevor-Goo’s eyes watered. His head was heavy with a thick congestion. He could not contain his sneezing and sniffles. A grotesque amount of nasal discharge flowed from his nose. Trevor-Goo’s mom decided he should stay home from school, instructing him to stay in bed.

“Would you like me to make you some soup, dear?” his mom asked.

“Trevor-Goo does not want soup,” Trevor-Goo said.

His mom assumed he was delirious from a fever. Feeling his forehead with the back of her hand did not reveal an abnormal temperature.

“Try to get some sleep,” his mom said.

When the evening arrived, Trevor-Goo woke up again feeling refreshed. Driven by an unconscious enlightenment, he was made aware of advanced theories of plasma physics, and aerospace and mechanical engineering. He spent the entire evening drawing detailed schematics on his notepad. When Saturday morning arrived, he had not slept.

For several weeks, Trevor-Goo was given permission to complete his homework remotely, which he did in record time. The subsequent days and nights were spent in the garage, welding, soldering and formulating a rudimentary source of fusion power. When he finished, Trevor-Goo asked his dad to call the mayor. A special gathering would be held in the city’s central park the following evening.

More than ten-thousand people attended, most sitting on lawn chairs or picnic blankets around baseball diamond number three’s gravel infield. A great hush fell over the crowd when the lamps overlooking the field shut off, revealing the colorful lights at the bottom of a small cylindrical craft. It descended with no sound and no noticeable propulsion system.

The craft drifted down to a stop a few feet from the ground and hovered. A top canopy slid open from hidden seams, and Trevor-Goo’s seat floated up to large shouts of adoration from the crowd. The boy held up his hand, and everyone fell silent.

“People of Earth. Your potential for greatness is unmatched throughout the solar system. Together with the boy you call Trevor, we have formed a symbiotic relationship. As you can see, between his physical form, and our intelligence, we can accomplish anything,” Trevor-Goo said.

The speech was met with confusion. A few sporadic claps could be heard.

“Unfortunately, your love of science has been overshadowed by your love of theatrics. We have determined our intellect would be best served elsewhere, where the pursuit of general truths and fundamental laws are given precedence over production quality,” Trevor-Goo said.

After his final words were spoken, the boy descended back into the ship, the canopy closed, and the ship took off straight up into the night sky at insurmountable speeds. A murmur in the crowd was followed by a slow dispersal. The mayor walked over to Trevor-Goo’s dad with a furrowed brow, and with Mrs. Kirkpatrick in tow.

“Not quite the show I had in mind, tonight, but I suppose they can’t all be winners. I’m sure Mrs. Kirkpatrick can help him refine his presentation skills,” the mayor said.

“Yes, for sure, on Monday I’ll work with him on it,” Mrs. Kirkpatrick said. “The boy has the science down, no doubt about it. He just needs to button up some loose ends around the delivery.”

They all agreed refinement was needed. By the time an impromptu plan was formulated, Trevor-Goo was several light years away.