This One Might Be Different

This story is a work of complete fiction. Any resemblance of characters to real persons and reality is a coincidence. This story eventually includes descriptions of sex between adult males. If you are a minor, if this material is illegal where you live, or if this material offends you, please don't read it. Please donate to Nifty. Find the donation button on the Nifty web site to help you to pay your share of their expenses to provide these entertaining stories for you. All rights reserved.

This One Might Be Different: Different-Chapter 8

It is another story for another archive of erotic stories (or not quite erotic, depending on one's point of view) to describe the rest of how Charley and I each got a baby.

Man-preg wasn't involved, that's for sure. Neither was man-man insemination, as salacious and temporarily thrilling the thought might be. The phrase 'I'm going to breed your ass' is usually heard or read about during man sex. It is a general truism, however, that the phrase has precious little basis in reality.

Our tests were ok, and some months later Charley had a half-genetic interest in an infant as did I in said infant's twin.

The new little persons were half-sib twin's, courtesy of their mother, joining Charley and I as genetic relations by marriage. We already had the marriage and I have to say here (to attempt some appearance of transparency) that though there were moments at 2 am tending to fraternal twin little ones that wouldn't stop crying and other moments when the particularly vicious diaper thing made us both wish for a really long vacation to Fire Island or someplace racy like that, we did become inured to baby shit. Eventually. The nannies took on the bulk of those blows, of course, but if one called in sick or sick-ish, we got a taste of daddy life.

Oh, his was a boy, Chocolate Alain (you can't kid about a name like that). My child was a girl and I named her Vanilla Jean...swear to God and hope to die. They were normal otherwise, smart of course, a tad on the scrawny side as twins tend to be initially, rather vocal, irritable when hungry only and not surprisingly liked a leg or arm touching each other. They had, after all, just spent nine months in fairly close contact.

Neither of us knew their mother well enough to 'love' her and certainly had no romantic interest in the children's mother. Charley and I dearly loved each other in every way. We may have been widowers in fact, but at heart we were still raunchy teenagers with a few years tacked on. Our noon appointments at home after a quick lunch were a legend on the ranch. I doubt there was a single worker among the hundreds there who didn't know where and why we disappeared at noon every day.

We had other interests. We loved hearing stories from the hospital ship, restoring healthy kids and adults to their families when all hope had long since flown out the door, allowing the blind to see again, extending broad HIV treatment services to more countries on the African continent continuing the Schuyler foundations seminal work a few generations back through ADRA (see Nifty-Gay-Relationships-The Schuyler Fortune-Elderberry, Raspberry and Sweet Pea).

We loved the stories of abundant, cheap electricity in America from nuclear fusion and over the globe and its positive climate impact. Alain Industries had exchanged a decreased income from oil products for a wildly large fortune in fusion. Charley's bottom line made him extremely wealthy, up in Joseph Schuyler's league, but they were friends, didn't compete for any titles and beside that, much of Joseph's family wealth was in art treasures and gems that were priceless. No authority on earth could have counted their worth in dollars. Charley and I were overexposed in equities and bonds at the expense of the stability of real estate, fine art, gems, etc.

Charley and I had just finished lunch one day and were preparing to do the nasty when he looked out the window, looked back at me, and said "I have to talk to you about something."

"All right. Shoot."

"I want to put my wealth and your wealth together in a single trust. If we do that in a state with favorable trust and tax laws and something happens to one of us, we might be able to reduce some taxes and avoid some probate hassles or at least have an easier time of settling the tasks of getting funds to each other or the person we wish to get the power and money to. I want you to have my company and my wealth when I die if you outlive me. I haven't heard you say what you want yet."

I told Charley I wanted him to have my money, all of it, if I died before he did. If we died together, I wanted Chris to have the bulk of everything with side bequests to the workers at Shady Acres who worked so hard for us.

"How does my trillion-dollar cock taste, Simon?" asked Charley, innocently, eyeing the top of my bobbing head. I pulled off and quickly answered with a straight face.

"Tangy," I answered. "hints of oak, vanilla, chocolate, with notes of latex, lube, and hand-cream.

We formed a trust in a favorable state legal environment for our particular financial situation and appointed Charley as the first beneficiary of the trust. My money would all come back to me only if Charley and I were divorced before one of us died. I would automatically be the surviving beneficiary (the owner )the boss) if Charley died first.

Whichever of us survived would appoint the next beneficiary, who then appointed...there was a trust board much like the Schuyler Trust, essentially powerless over the beneficiary, but useful for some kinds of advice and connections to other business entities, ambassadors for the trust and its mission. We both had equal access to everything and like the Schuylers through the years, there wasn't a nanometer length of ice in hell of a chance of spending it all, not the income or the total.

Joseph was delighted for Schuyler bank to host our combined trust and for Paolo to manage its investments. The Schuyler Trust had been dealing with trust issues for a long time and we didn't want to re-invent any wheels. The trillions of dollars in cash that Alain Industries owned enjoyed Schuyler discounts and privileges in New York markets and around the world. The two fortunes together constituted a wad of cash that could support a market in crisis very easily. The Schuyler Traders around the world managed Alain funds in markets across the glove 24 hours a day. Neither Charley or this doc wanted to buy, sell or trade stocks ourselves.

We learned the power of interest and dividends. We especially learned the power of really large sums of money in making money. For instance, if one invested 10 dollars in Dow stocks and Paolo outpaced the Dow by 6% as he traditionally did, one might expect a 10% return from the market, maybe. That might total 1 dollar in a year's time. If one invested a trillion dollars in Dow stocks and Paolo did his magic, then the 10% return from the process might, perhaps, equal 100 billion dollars. Same returns, very different amount of money, however.

The initial trust amount was 10 trillion dollars and if you don't think Paolo worked hard to disguise those stock purchases, think again. Markets noticed trillion-dollar purchases. It took him some weeks to trickle all that money all into the market. In the end it was hard to buy that much equity, partly because that's a lot of shares from a finite number of shares (available shares) and the rising cost of shares from those savvy sellers who had worked out that a heavy buyer was willing to pay decent prices and make up for a lot of investor's unwise decisions through the years. Paolo partially made up for that by buying the hidden gems first and the solid performers next, then utilities, made Flint, Michigan a cleaner place by buying all of their outstanding bonds, followed by San Antonio's bond debt and Portland and Seattle. The next round would focus on San Francisco and New York and Fort Lauderdale, although precious few bargains presented themselves in Florida.

I have to say Paolo wasted very little of the 10 trillion, however, and we were thrilled about the quality, variety, and the potential of the equities that he purchased.

Alain's income from fusion would continue for many years as a nearly incomprehensible amount of money.

Our contracts with entities who bought the fusion systems had clauses that forbade their resale without the approval of Alain Industies (Charley and I) and that permission was routine refused to countries known for reverse-engineering technology invented elsewhere and selling cheap copies.

We had another clause in those contracts where buyer in a foreign country that sold theirs in violation of the first clause could expect our pursuit of US government sanctions and refusal to service their unit further or sell to them in the future. We took advantage of existing legislation that invoked US government approval for exportation of certain critical technologies to some other countries. We expected the trust to triple in size in the next five years.

It became important to consider grooming Chris or Karen or their child or children to manage the business and/or the money in time. That was our goal. We needed to know what Chris and Karen thought about grooming their young ones. There also wasn't a guarantee that the child would follow any prepared life script later. Many kids make their own decisions when the time comes and they often depart from their parents plans for them, let alone their grandfather's plans!

As usual, Karen provided the best answer. "Since we can't count on our kids having money or investment talent, let's comb the country for a group of kids or college-age 'kids' who do and let them train with Paolo, who is mortal after all and will retire someday. There has to be a gay-friendly, honest, business-financial-investing genius just waiting to be found and their talents developed and used. Why can't we quietly do a nation-wide contest or search or something. It would take a lot of investigating and testing."

Paolo loved the idea of being a mentor. He saw the value of the idea and asked if we were interested in setting up a school, perhaps in Philadelphia to provide a mix of Main Line types with disadvantaged kids who needed a bit of a leg up, but open to any citizen of the world with demonstrated talent. The problem was space. There wasn't any campus-sized space for sale. We soon figured out that Paolo had himself in mind. He didn't want to stray too far from his Manhattan offices very often. Proximity for his business to matters financial helped the Schuylers and it helped us.

There was plenty of space in upper elevations of New Mexico and Arizona. We had realtors searching quietly for space in those warm states. Our criteria included proximity to good transportation, although we also needed space and permission for our own jet access with hangars, runway lights, a tower and a private bill in Congress to get FAA support. We needed cheap power if possible, adequate water, stellar broadband access, friendly education laws, campus architects, security staff, perimeter security and yeah, drones too.

We found it all in New Mexico, very near Albuquerque. Alain Industries purchased 5 thousand acres of mixed-use land which met all of our criteria for the school. Our goal was a student population of about 500 in palatial dormitories. Our first project after grading and prepping the property, saving as many natural features as possible, was to secure the perimeter.

We hired security consultants from Los Angeles who gave us plans and supervised the high earth berms with inner hedgerows and outer high steel fences 'reinforced' with motion detectors, patrolled by drones and monitored around the clock. We were determined to protect those students.

Optical fiber was laid from the campus to an internet node not far from Albuquerque, tested and near gigabyte download speeds obtained. Perhaps more important, for fast order up-loading to markets, we obtained optical fiber access to Denver which didn't have great download speed but had fantastic upload speeds to use.

Paolo's people arranged the Denver to New York connections for blazing fast packet traffic.

Construction of dorms began soon after that. Computerized classrooms with large conference screens, academic offices, a branch office of Alain Industries, academic housing, a general store for stuff kids want, a clinic with free medical care, along with a gas station on campus with a mini-Target and a mini-Walmart, a pharmacy and pharmacist, a couple of fast food joints and all kinds of food carts with food of a dozen national cuisines represented, a gym, an Olympic pool with showers, track and field facilities went up quickly by June. The inside work and furniture was done by September 1 by some miracle and the stores stocked. We decided that we had enough for free food on campus and free clothes and uniforms as well. Linens were provided. We wanted no one to feel better or worse than another from a possession standpoint.

We were getting students by October 1...all between 12 and 20 years of age, street kids, college kids, home schooled kids, kids from a lot of other countries. All had to speak fluent English, however. Our instructors had arrived in early September and had been busy designing the curriculum for nearly a year already in consultation with Paolo. We had decided to skip daily assembly for the waste of time it is and whoever was communications person for the day usually talked to the students at breakfast. Those who didn't make the morning meal had to assemble later.

"We don't have any rules here at the Alain School. We do have some ethical principles that you are required to learn and be prepared to repeat to your RA if challenged.

1. We are kind. We say things to people that we would want to hear from them if the situation was reversed.

2. We are ethical and our integrity comes first. We are who we say we are.

3. We are professional. We know that others judge us by our attitude and appearance and how well we meet their needs.

4. Your stuff is yours, our stuff is ours. The two don't mix.

5. We don't take things that are not ours.

6. We touch others only with their permission.

7. The laws of New Mexico state that sex with a minor is a crime.

8. The best way to deal with violence or a threatening situation is to run, hide, then fight in that order. We report unsafe situations.

9. We respect other's beliefs.

10. Our appearance is a statement to others about ourselves.

"All of you impressed the recruiters. All of you will get a great job somewhere someday. Some of you may work for Alain Industries one day for a fabulous salary. All of you will leave the world a better place because you were here."

"Your assigned counsellor to begin is your RA who will refer you to needed therapists who can help you manage the stress of being here...the pressure and learning stress will not be negligible."

John Lodge grew up with three brothers and two sisters in Kenville, Iowa. His dad was a soybean farmer, his mom worked in a convenience store. John enjoyed riding and fixing tractors, harvest time, apple pie and his cousin's dirty magazines. At first, he was disgusted, but interested in what he saw. At age 13, he noticed that the thrill had gone, replaced by an intense interest in football. He tried out and found that although he liked to run, everyone else was faster. He knew the rules like 'everyone' did, but he couldn't throw the ball very far and switched his interests rapidly to books.

John liked to read, liked numbers, watched his dad struggling with farm math and farm finance and decided that if his dad would let him, he could help with that. He offered. He got a 'leave me alone, I've got work to do, son' response. At the town library the next day, he was looking at stuff on the library's one computer, saw an ad for a place in New Mexico that was interviewing for students (free tuition!) who were interested in numbers and finance.

John's brain gave a ittle jump and he copied the information to show his mom and dad. The prospect of not having to feed as many kids and a free schooling to boot couldn't be ignored. His mom volunteered to take him to Des Moines to the interviews if John was able to snag one. John called, talked to the man for a while, and the upshot was an appointment on a Friday, 2 weeks in the future at noon.

It was a 3-hour drive. His mom waited in a reception are for an hour during the interview. "How did it go?"

"He asked me what I knew about numbers and had me add up some numbers in my head and remember them. He liked the answers and asked me why I wanted to learn more about math and numbers. I told him that you and dad taught me multiplication tables early on and I got fascinated about the products of multiplying anything by 9."

"I told him that when you add the digits of the product of those kinds of operations that the result would end up being 9 every time if you kept on adding the product digits. I told him that 3 x 333 equaled 999. Those digits, added were 27 and 2 plus 7 equaled 9."

"He smiled and said he'd forgotten that trick. I told him I rarely forget anything and a funny look came over his face. He asked me what numbers he had asked me to remember and I told him. He said I was accepted if my parents approved."

They stopped at a shopping center on the edge of Des Moines and had ice cream to celebrate. When John got home, his mom had a long talk with his dad and they called the recruiter to accept. They were told a plane ticket from Des Moines would be waiting at the airport on September 29.

He told them not to pack a suitcase. The students were issued clothes and uniforms for free. Shoes too, they guessed, although John wore a pair there along with socks as a backup. Along with a new, clean t-shirt, shorts and a shirt to wear back home if he had to escape or something. He didn't take a medicine for anything and didn't need a razor just yet.

The plane trip was interesting. He had read about how airplanes stay up in the air. At a certain speed down the runway which varied for the weight of the plane, air passed above and below the wing which was shaped so that each air molecule traveled above or below the wing. The distance from the front edge of the wing to the back edge was different on the top of the wing from the bottom of the wing. Since the length was longer on top due to the curve of the wing, those air molecules were spread out and had more room, less of them per cubic centimeter than below the wing where they were all jammed up causing higher pressures. That higher pressure pushed the wing up (and the plane attached to the wing) upward. The very low or negative pressure above the wing sucked the wings up above a certain speed as well. The pressure gradient from the bottom to the top lifted the plan until its speed dropped below the point where weight took over and the ship would descend.

He knew all this from a book so wasn't surprised that when the plane reached a fast speed it began to lift into the air. It wasn't scary. It was math and physics, which he understood at a gut level and could see the words on the page on which he first read them.

A lady met him at Albuquerque airport and the driver took them out into the country, through gates to a new campus, to a dorm with a sign in front. "Blockwelder Hall" He saw it, filed it away, went into to desk in the lobby with the lady and was introduced to the man behind the desk.

"This is John Lodge and he is here to join the freshman class."

A hand came over the desk and met his and shook it. "Hi John Lodge, my name is Simon Brewster." My job is to introduce you to your RA, your student helper on 4th floor. The elevator is over this way. We'll go up and meet him before the next student arrives."

Going up an elevator for the fourth time in my life was radical and we got off on fourth floor after punching the '4' button. I noticed that there were little plaques of tiny bumps next to the numbers and I remembered reading about the Braille language that let blind people feel bumps to 'read' information. I was still thinking about that when we got to room 101.

The man Simon and I walked in the open door and met my new RA who shook my hand and told me he was "I'm Oliver Feinman, a transfer student from the University of Colorado. Your room is 410 and here is your card key. If you lose it, no problem. Just ask the front desk for another. Here is your ID card to hang on this lanyard around your neck."

"Please don't lose that and hide it around your neck when you are in town, off-campus. Please don't tell people you are a student here. There are plenty of reporters looking for a story. Also, there are people who would give their souls for one of these to take stuff."

"All of the stores, food carts, gas stations, uniform shops, clothing shops are included here and available by inserting your ID card into a machine. We don't want to give out expensive to stuff to non-students. I know your roommate by name, he hasn't arrived yet, you'll meet him later."

"Classes start October 3 so read the material on whichever desk you choose in your room, memorize it and get your uniforms and clothes and books and the whole list and be ready for your first class that day. Nice to meet you, John."

I shook his hand again, thanked him and walked down the hall to my room and gasped. The room was really big with lots of cupboard and closet space. It had what looked like a marble shower with a really cool shower head, an overhead heating lamp like our baby chick lamp on the farm, kind of, two sinks and carpet on the floor.

I threw myself on a bed and sunk into the comfort of it all. It already had sheets and pillows and covers on it. The large windows opened on to an enclosed balcony with two lounge chairs which overlooked a small pool. There were a few plants in the room, a floor to ceiling mirror, a refrigerator, and ferociously large built-in computer monitors on each desk connected beneath the desk to a central computer somewhere.

There was a thermometer on the wall which adjusted heat and air-conditioning. I was hot after the day, flung myself on to my bed on my stomach on to the cool sheets after shutting the door and proceeded to take a nap.

Jayden Miller ducked down the alley behind his cousin, running as fast as he could away from the heavy foot-steps he heard behind him. His cousin was laughing hysterically. Malik had planned the escape route and they had already run it twice, leaving a door open behind a crumbling brick wall through which they ducked at the last minute, turned, slammed the door and threw the heavy, iron bolts quickly as the following cop slammed in to the door from the outside.

His cousin grabbed his sleeve. "Come on, we aren't there yet."

They continued on through the first floor of the condemned building to the old front door on Harrison Street, quickly crossed the street and proceeded through the mail to the west entrance, mounted their bikes and rode off into the park. "See Jayden, you have to sell the merchandise to some who wants it, has the money to buy it, and have an escape route planned, then run it and relax. That cop is back there somewhere trying to make up a story to tell his boss why he couldn't keep up with us."

"See you tomorrow. Here's a hundred bucks. Don't spend it all at once."

Every detail of that day he replayed in his head, second by second, calculating times and putting the details to memory, calculated the odds of getting caught, calculated the return on investment considering purchase price of the goods, sales price, factors influencing the sale including the precise moment the buyer decided to buy by the look on the buyer's face, the timing of the sale until the noise started and which of the cameras around might have had the precise angle to see the transaction at that distance.

He put all of that to memory and decided that wasn't his thing. The lost dollars of no job in jail, the lost future in jail that his brother wasn't enjoying right now...his calculating brain was telling him it wasn't worth it for a hundred bucks.

The next morning his grandma had a stricken look on her face in the kitchen and he knew what she was going to say. The odds of anything else making her look like that were low. "Your cousin got picked up last night at home. Said to tell you to split. The cameras might have seen you there. Were you there boy?"

"No don't tell me. I wouldn't lie for you or anyone. I thought I raised you better. Get dressed. We're going down to the bus station. You are going to your uncle's house in Baltimore with dark glasses on and a cap. Don't you dare speak to anyone on the trip, you hear me!"

Jayden heard her.

He was going away on the bus. He calculated the bus average speed, the number of people on the bus, the percent of black people versus white people on the bus, counted the number of kids, the number of drinkers, anything to keep his mind busy.

His uncle met him and took him home. "Here's your room. Supper is at 5 pm. Clean up. You go back to your grandma's house if you get into trouble. The computer's password is 45n*3.WT and you have to be in bed by 9 pm. I love you as long as you behave yourself. You bring trouble to this house and I'm not your friend anymore. Hear me?"

Jayden heard him.

Jayden knew about computers. They had those at school for lessons but not for fun or 'unauthorized' use. He looked over Craigslist that night and saw an ad for a free school with free everything if accepted at an interview. The place was for bright kids interested in math, business and finance. He decided he was interested in math. No problem. He knew a few things about selling.

People bought what they wanted, and sometimes stuff they needed. He knew that finance was the money part. He didn't have much of that and didn't see any clear way to a point in the future where he didn't have to worry about money. A lot of people didn't even have to think about money. They spent, they paid for stuff and everything else, he guessed, happened to them, but at least money wasn't a hassle.

A telephone number in Baltimore was listed. He called the number the next day and got an appointment. He walked to the appointment, a rather long walk, took off his dark glass and hat and talked to the recruiter who asked him questions about all those things, asked him to remember some stuff, he said all of it back to the guy at the end of the hour and heard the guy say he was accepted an to expect a plane ticket from Baltimore to Albuquerque, New Mexico to school on October 29.

His uncle, glad to not have to feed him, put him on the plane early in the morning that day and he was met by a lady.

She introduced herself. A car with a driver, no less, took them out into the countryside on this hot day, drove through the gates up to a large building with a sign that read 'Blockwelder Hall'. He memorized that with the mental snapshot button in his head, was processed at the desk by a man named Simon who took him upstairs to shake hands with an older white kid called an IRA whose name was Oliver Feinman (another push on the snapshot button) who told him his room was 410, and that his roommate was already settled in as of an hour or two ago.

Oliver handed him a braided metal loop called a lanyard with an ID card on it that he was to guard with his life (snapshot), told that everything including food, clothes, gas station, Target, Walmart, everything) on campus was free (snapshot and an urge to go to the bathroom-this was news indeed)...

After hearing the same lecture John had heard, Jayden walked to 410, stuck the key-card in the lock, opened the door and saw his roommate. He coughed and the other boy woke up. "Hi, you must be my roommate."

"I'm Jayden Miller, freshman, and you must be my new roommate."

"John Lodge from Iowa, freshman too, at your service. Excuse me. I'll be right with you."

"Knock yourself out."

"Oliver told me to read the stuff on my desk, but I was hot and tired, so the nap happened first."

Jayden grinned and said he had to read his too. They both read the material once, memorized it word for word and both threw their copy in the trash. John looked at Jayden. "Did you memorize all that stuff?'

"Yeah. It's easy for me."

"Yeah, me too. I've always been able to do that."

"Me too. Not everybody can...my cousin can't."

"None of my sibs can either. Guess I'm one of the odd Iowa kids."

"I need to go shopping," said Jayden."

"I do too," replied John. "Wanna go with?"

"Beats taking a nap. In New York and Baltimore, it's not safe for kids to take a nap sometimes. You gotta stay awake and watch for trouble." Jayden didn't explain further.

Both of the roommates bought clothes and required uniforms that day along with other stuff they wanted but didn't really need. No one questioned their purchases except the uniform guy who told them which ones they had to have around campus and the gym required clothes. Both swiped for all of this stuff including a swim suit or two apiece. Their mental calculators added as they went. They didn't need receipts since they weren't paying for anything, but they knew the running totals cold.

They stopped by Target to get hair stuff and grooming supplies. They got Tylenol at Walmart, inner calculators still running. They dropped by the bookstore, swiped for their books, went back to Walmart for winter boots and coats, an umbrella apiece, tennis shoes, a suitcase apiece, Fritos, orange juice, milk, cheese, bread, mayonnaise, mustard, turkey slices, hot dogs and buns, swiped again, took the "deliver" option at the swipe counter and were told the items would be delivered to 410 in their dorm in an hour or two.

They slept well that night. Jayden awoke the next morning to hear John humming in the bathroom. Jayden didn't hum as a rule, so the foreign noise ended his good dream. John emerged, towel around his waist. Jayden noted the difference in skin color, thought John's skin was pretty pale but otherwise didn't think or feel anything. He swung out of bed and padded to the bathroom after a mumbled "hi", clean up, brushed his hair and his teeth, came out in his towel. John noted the rich chocolate color of Jayden's skin, thought it was a great color, otherwise thought nor felt any reaction. They both dressed.

"Breakfast is downstairs in 15 minutes if I remember the schedule right."

"Actually 14.5 minutes now. It took you 30 seconds to think how to say that and then say it."

"Yeah. I should be more precise, asshole."

Jayden grinned. "Yep, you need to pay attention to details, man. I'm hungry. Let's go now and hit the front of the line."

It had been a great thought...but at least 70 other boys and young men had come to the same bright idea...first.

John and Jayden made mental notes calculating the time they would have to leave their room to get into the first 10 in line but failed to take into account that each of the others in line were thinking the same thing. For the first couple of weeks guys were coming down really early then decided sleep trumped first place at breakfast.

Breakfast was a marvel. The hot food was hot, and the cold food was cold. Oatmeal, which Jayden thought he hated, had coconut shreds and raisins and cinnamon and brown sugar and dried dates in it. There were 4 kinds of toast and bagels and lox and cream cheese and eggs prepared 5 ways including a cheese omelete cooked in front of them with ham or cheese or avocados and feta cheese and spinach, orange juice, milk, tea, hot chocolate, and coffee. Apricot nectar, cheese danish and cinnamon rolls with raisins along with rice, latkes, noodles, sushi, malawach, congee, avocado toast, marmite, idli sambar, bissara, you tiao, and fruits of many kinds.

Jayden and John read the first 4 chapters of each of their textbooks that day, memorized them, walked around campus exploring, came back to the room, put on their swim suits and lay by the pool, jumping once in a while.

They dropped by the gym, swam a few laps, showered, came back to the room, napped and having skipped lunch were more than ready for a large supper at 6 pm.

Charley, Paolo and I had decided to concentrate our efforts on the freshman class. We weren't desperate for a helper for Chris yet, but wanted to have some influence on the other classes as well, so we monitored those classes and taught them seminars by video and made ourselves available for career counselling.

We wanted to analyze the freshmen's abilities very carefully since they were more likely to be running the corporation in future years and 4 years of intense interaction along with guest lecturers from Wharton, Harvard and Yale were planned to hone whatever skills they found. We discussed ways of identifying strengths and evaluating the potential of each freshman student.

We could have saved ourselves the time and energy. Two freshman stood out like a sore thumb from the rest immediately.