Bethany
and Fred Sacks trusted Cyrus with the knowledge of their relationship,
and Fred started meeting with Cyrus regularly, guiding the boy at the
formation of his company. He had to get him at least a little familiar
with the grubby grown-up details of intellectual property, venture
capital, and corporations. To his credit, Fred took for his trouble
only a 20% stake of the initial shares of the company (secretly
assigning 1/3 of that to Bethany), leaving the remaining 80% to Cyrus.
Cyrus
stepped forward when it came to naming the company. "White, Inc." had
unpleasant racial overtones, but "Cyrus Corporation" did not.
The
patent was unassailable. Proving the efficacy of the treatment was
ridiculously easy, but establishing its safety was a somewhat longer
process.
Investors had to estimate how many women and girls
would want to use it. Some investors concluded that few would become
sluts for knowledge, and they bowed out.
Others foresaw a
two-step process. Artificial insemination worked if the semen reached
the cervix in under a minute, but the effect was attenuated. They
judged that many women could be convinced to shoot some milky fluid up
their vaginas without viewing themselves as sluts. Then, the theory
went, the intriguing benefits of that first, attenuated dose would
reduce their resistance to proceeding to actual intercourse to attain
the maximum benefit. They also speculated that once stunningly
successful women like Julia Johnson revealed the source of their
success, societal attitudes would change rapidly. They were right.
Based
on the valuation of the privately held company, Cyrus at his 19th
birthday was worth $7 billion according to the most conservative
estimate.
There were a variety of intriguing possibilities for
names, including "Deep Understanding", "Teach Me", "Personal Tutor",
"Fun With a Purpose", and "Joy of Learning". It was ultimately marketed
under the name "Insta-tutor", but it was commonly known simply as the
"magic potion".
David
was Brian Robertson's younger son. He tried to concentrate on his
English. He was the star forward on the varsity basketball team. In the
old days, that would have been enough to get him a girlfriend. It still
was, and he'd had a few. But he could only have one at a time, and the
hottest girls weren't interested.
The lucky boys -- the hot
boys, the ones the girls wanted -- were the brains, like Chen. Chen
fucked a different girl every day -- a different hot, sexy girl,
because he had his choice. He knew stuff, so he could teach it. Girls
eagerly opened their legs and let Chen fuck away because he could sperm
their pussies and in that same ecstatic act teach them calculus, or
German, or history.
No girls were particularly interested in
basketball strategy, sports cars, or guns, his main interests. When he
did it with a girlfriend, he could be pretty sure she wasn't taking any
magic potion.
David tried to concentrate on his English. He tried, but he fell asleep.
"So what's the deal, Mr. Law man? I'm supposed to fuck the hot little
detective girl. Sounds pretty good to me."
"I'm
sure it's an appealing prospect. But you realize that this 'hot little
detective girl' will then know just about everything you've thought of
in the past week. So if you're guilty, she'll know it and can testify
against you."
"I'm not guilty. You know that," said Sid Cabot with a small smile.
"There's
some pretty good evidence against you already, you know. You can say
you're not guilty, and for all I know you're not, but their case is
pretty good. If it goes to trial and you're convicted, they can lock
you up for 30 years. They're offering you a deal where you can walk in
10 if you do OK in prison. I'd consider taking it if I were you and
staying as far away from the detective girl as you can."
"Can I just refuse? It must be illegal to make me do her, isn't it?"
"Yes, and you can refuse to give a semen sample too, but they'll tell
the jury that and let them draw their own conclusions."
"What if the detective takes my shot of sperm and finds I'm innocent?"
"Well,
then you walk, of course, if you can fuck another witness or two to get
corroboration. You're the only one who knows what the women are going
to find. But if I were you, I'd take the deal they're offering."
Sid
read up on the test. They said that if you jerked off many time in the
days before the test, they wouldn't know anything you thought about
before then. They said most people couldn't help thinking about
important things, though. But some yogis could pull it off. And Sid was
strong and disciplined. He just wouldn't think about anything except
happy things. But that was just his back-up plan. Plan A was to stop
before he came.
The setup was a little weird. They took him to a
snazzy motel room. He was alone with the pretty detective, but they had
told him that men were outside the door listening, and she had a panic
button she could press at any time if she didn't like what he was
doing. She wore a short black dress, lacy bra and panties. She sure was
one hot chick. (She was also Fred Sacks's niece.) Nice ass, and she let
him do her like a dog. It sure felt great. He panted as he poked into
the little woman over and over again. Fucking a cop; imagine that! It
would be so easy to shoot off inside her, but he was disciplined. He
had his plan. He just needed to pull out and say he couldn't manage to
finish. But it felt so great. Just a few more strokes...
"Give it to me, baby," she said. "Shoot it right up my pussy!"
Oh,
it was tempting. He started to pull out and let his cock calm down when
she squeezed. Aw, shit, he was past the point of no return! He still
pulled out, but his cock twitched and the stuff spurted onto the back
of her thigh. She must have felt it, because she leapt away from him.
She sucked the jism from her leg into a little syringe-like thing she
produced out of nowhere. Then she stuck it way up her pussy and pressed
the plunger. It was hot to see her so eager to get his sperm back into
her body.
After a moment, she smiled at him. "I guess you're not guilty, are you?"
It had worked! He'd kept enough bad thoughts away.
They
offered him two more hot detectives to fuck. His lawyer told him not
to, but he fucked both of them, now seeing no need to hold back. He
coated their innards with his manly stuff. He was strong and
disciplined and could control his thoughts.
Maybe he should have
listened to his lawyer, he reflected two years later, as the guy in the
uniform slid the needle into his arm.
For while he'd been only
an accomplice to the crime they'd charged him with, there were those
two earlier murders, and yeah, he'd fucked 'em before he killed 'em. He
hadn't managed to keep those thoughts out of his mind completely. The
first detective had smiled at him as if she hadn't found anything
incriminating, sneaky bitch, but it was just an act. The three little
detectives he'd screwed had all given independent reports and they all
agreed. That had led them to other evidence too, of course.
"Any last words?"
"Well,
I wish I hadn't killed anyone. Wish I'd listened to my lawyer. But that
second detective -- Mary, she said her name was -- she sure was hot.
Tell Mary I love her." And at the moment, he really meant it.
Moments later, he felt himself slip into unconsciousness.
Kyle
was Brian's older son, David's big brother. In the old days, he might
have been a ski bum. But the magic potion offered him new opportunities.
To start with, he was a stunning hunk. He'd had an endless stream of
women and had learned to be quite the lover.
His
love in life was thrills and extreme sports. He climbed the highest
peaks, including Everest. He skied the most spectacular mountains,
scuba dived through inaccessible coral reefs, went bungee jumping and
paragliding.
For his new occupation, he would top off his
lifetime of memories with a couple days of intensive activity. He would
then keep his appointment with a woman who had agreed to pay him
handsomely for the service. She would drift from an orgasmic experience
into the visceral reliving of some extreme sports that she herself
would never engage in.
Roger
was Cyrus's first cousin. He lifted his eyes from his thick
electromagnetism book, leaned back in his chair and rubbed his eyes. It
was kind of interesting. He kept reading about electromagnetism day
after day, reviewing the important stuff constantly and delving into
obscure parts of the field to keep it interesting. By this time it was
his specialty. There wasn't much point in reading other areas because
the young women who were the real students would get that from someone
else.
When he started grad school, he'd had visions of becoming
a great physicist, but the new seminal instruction technology his
cousin Cyrus had created had already taken over by that time. He
studied hard, but all the girls had to do was spread their legs for
some professor and absorb his knowledge that way. The girls could learn
so much more rapidly, and not just facts but to a certain degree the
intangible mindset of the great men as well, the mindset that allowed
creativity.
So he would never be a creative mind, never really
move the field forward. He would forever teach electromagnetism. But he
smiled as he thought about his latest lesson with Meghan. Great minds
used to view teaching as an unpleasant distraction from research. But
for men like Roger, teaching had never been so much fun.
In
theory, admission to grad school was still based entirely on academic
achievement. But part of his interview had been to fuck three
professors. It wasn't official, of course, just evening recreation.
Everyone knew that if you didn't, you'd never get into grad school.
From his semen they could judge his ability to master material, but
just as important, they could judge his moral character and
personality. Anything in a young man's past that would upset a young
woman was grounds for rejection. All off the record, of course.
Fortunately he had lived a fairly uneventful life and was a decent
person.
Surely the professors had picked up on the sexual
background hum that permeated his life ever since puberty. Every female
he met got evaluated as a potential piece of ass, not to put too fine a
point on it. But apparently just about all the young men were the same
way. It was something of a rude surprise for the women of the world to
learn how prevalent this attitude was, but they got used to it. There
had been articles written about that process of accommodation.
But
he didn't give wolf whistles or make lewd remarks, and he had never
actually groped a girl against her will. Sure, he had dismissed many of
the women who crossed his path as old or fat or ugly, but all the guys
did that, and apparently he hadn't done so with undue disgust. He
hadn't been a bully or made fun of other boys. He hadn't tormented bugs.
They
also evaluated his sexual performance. No gay man was going to get into
a top-notch grad school. He had to be able to be a decent lover to
women, even if they weren't especially attractive.
He passed the tests -- and, oh yeah, he was pretty smart too.
He
got paid grad student wages for his teaching, but as soon as he earned
his Master's degree, he'd drop out and make a decent salary as an
instructor. But the real perk of his job was the inherent joy in the
teaching.
Just about every day there was a new girl who needed one-on-one
tutoring. And these girls were generally hot. Very hot.
For
women to get into a top-notch university as an undergrad, they had to
demonstrate a natural intelligence. But they also had to be the sort of
girl that would turn on a tutor. That meant physically attractive, warm
and friendly, with a strong sexual interest in a wide variety of men.
They needed to lubricate easily, enjoy the sex act and come easily. For
the truth was that the more exciting a tutor found his student, the
better he was able to convey his knowledge to her when he inseminated
her.
That was for undergraduate admissions. For a woman to get
into a top-notch grad school, the requirements on native intelligence
and intellectual achievement were greater, but she still had to be
sexy. It really helped to be a bombshell.
Intro courses were
taught by men less talented than Roger. He liked teaching grad
students, but the upper-level undergrads were more carefree and fun.
They
came to his house at midnight, the conventional hour that had emerged
between tutors and students. Lovely young women dressed provocatively
showed up at his door. After some conversation, they started making out
and clothes flew off. He kissed eager lips, nibbled ears, sucked on
nipples, and fondled feminine curves, including small, delicate ones.
By convention all the girls waxed themselves regularly to maintain
smooth, hairless feminine parts. Sparkling eyes gazed up into his as
experienced warm mouths pleasured his cock. Before long it was time for
the real lesson, and eager legs spread wide. The girls gave themselves
some unobtrusive finger work to achieve a quivering readiness just
before the penile insertion, and then he plunged in.
Learning
worked best if he didn't hold back but just let his animal nature take
over. With wet, hot and engorged feminine tissues right on the edge,
the girls usually began coming in seconds. He made sure he got a deep
penetration before a frenzied series of deep, primitive stabs,
accompanied by animal grunting. In no more than a minute, he let loose,
spewing gobs of creamy educational material all over the upper cunts of
his sexually satisfied students. He usually stayed engaged inside the
girl until his cock softened and then slid onto his back, happy and
spent. He welcomed the girl as she snuggled against him and then he
drifted off to sleep. He knew the girls went into a pleasant reverie
laced with electromagnetism before falling asleep themselves.
In
the morning they were gone. It would have been nice to wake up with
them, but then both of them would have wanted a reprise, and that was
no good. He needed to build up his stock of semen for the next night's
lesson with another hot, gorgeous student.
Yeah, he'd dreamed
about being a great physicist. This way he would always be a
second-class citizen. But without a cervix, you just couldn't progress
very far in any field of knowledge. He knew his place, and the
consolation of an endless stream of hot, beautiful, grateful girls in
his bed was no small thing.
"Resisting Temptation" in The
New York Times by Rachel Johnson (Bethany and Julia's aunt)
A
new medical procedure has been approved by federal regulators and will
be available to all women later this year. It renders a woman
permanently incapable of learning by seminal injection. This strikes
many people as strange; all a woman has to do to avoid learning by
seminal injection is not take the magic potion. Yet the new procedure
is expected to be very popular.
To learn why, listen to Amber's story.
This
writer would have judged her to be an average woman all around, in
looks, personality, and educational attainment. She isn't so easy on
herself.
"I struggled to make C's in school. I didn't believe in
being one of those girls who learn by being a slut. It's against my
values. And as you can see, I'm chubby and have a horsy face."
I wouldn't have put it that way, but I could see a grain of truth to
what she said.
"So as you can imagine, I didn't get a lot of attention from the smart
and handsome guys. Not even the nice guys."
Many
writers have remarked on the recent popularity of nice guys. When
dating, many women will take the magic potion when sex is likely. Even
before the man's ecstasy has faded or his breathing returned to normal,
she will learn the essentials of his character. If it is unappealing,
that will be the end of the relationship. Good character is the hot new
commodity.
Many men will insist on using condoms and make sure
their seed and their secrets stay their own. That would seem to be a
good thing; in the old days a man who religiously used a condom was a
responsible partner. But now the nagging question becomes: does he have
something to hide?
Amber's story continues. "I really wanted a
man, and I knew I'd be better off not knowing what went on in his head.
He could keep his secrets and I'd keep mine. Then George came along and
asked me out. As you might expect, he wasn't brilliant or handsome or
Mr. Congeniality. I told him flat out that I didn't want to know any of
his secrets. I told him I knew all the goody two-shoes were marrying
the smart, pretty girls. He seemed relieved, and confessed that his
thoughts and his past might leave a lot to be desired."
George
noted politely that condoms made sex a lot less fun for him. After
several dates they mutually agreed she'd go on the pill instead. Amber
swore she'd never take the magic potion. They got married.
"Everything
went well for a while. He had a steady job and was a good provider.
Sure, the honeymoon faded. We had our squabbles. But we were both happy
when I got pregnant."
As often happens, the arrival of a new baby stressed the marriage.
"He
didn't always come home right after work. I began wondering if he was
having an affair. Then when I'd be in the drug store, the magic potion
was always there on the shelf. It would be so simple. All I'd have to
do was buy it. He'd never know. But I'd promised him I wouldn't."
But whenever they had a fight she found herself tempted again.
"One
night he didn't come home. He called to say he was too drunk and was
staying with a friend. The next day the package in the drug store got
so tempting. I held off for another week, but then when he was still
distant and grumpy I just couldn't resist. I told myself he'd never
know because I'd just never tell him anything I learned -- unless he
was being untrue to me."
Things didn't turn out the way she planned.
"I
was so tired those days, mostly I just did sex for his sake, and this
was no exception. I was also nervous because I'd broken my word and
taken the potion. Then it happened."
Amber pauses, pain on her face as she recalls the memories.
"He
wasn't kidding about having bad stuff in his past. He'd been a bully in
school, and he'd tormented his little sister. I think you'd say he
sexually abused her, but that wasn't the worst of it. He made her life
miserable. When I thought about it later I realized his own father
abused him and his mother was a weird, cold woman. But I didn't see
that at the time. What really stung was that he thought I was a dog. He
knew he was no great shakes himself and I was the best he was going to
do. He liked me OK, but not far below the surface he always thought I
was very unattractive. I knew it too, of course, but it's easy to fool
yourself, you know? I mean, we were making love, and it was fun. That
meant he found me attractive, right? Wrong. Well, right and wrong. He
wanted sex a lot more than I did, and he liked it. That counts for a
lot, now I think about it."
I asked her if he was having an affair.
"Well,
he had been untrue a few months before. He was drunk and had a sad,
quick little encounter with a woman just as drunk as he was. And that
made my blood boil, of course. But thinking about it later, I realized
he felt miserable and guilty about it. If I'd been thinking, I would
have realized that was the most important thing. He really wanted to be
true to me, and the exception kind of proved the rule, you know? And he
really had just been drunk that other night. He couldn't face coming
home and having me nag at him. I really was a nag; I could have done a
lot better."
I asked her what happened.
"I burst into
tears right there in bed. I'd sworn he'd never know I'd taken the magic
potion, but that didn't last five minutes. He felt guilty because he
knew he'd betrayed me. Things got really cold after that, and a month
later he moved out. We got divorced and now I'm squeaking by on child
support and minimum wage work at the Stop and Shop."
Then she
got wistful. "But you know, the thing is, I think my betrayal was the
worse one. I'd promised I wouldn't look into his mind, and I did. And I
found just what I had said at the beginning I didn't want to find out."
I asked her if she would have felt different if he had been cheating.
"Not
really. Maybe it's easier to say now that I'm all alone. But he was
coming home at night. The paycheck was always there to pay the bills.
He wasn't beating me or anything. He really liked little Jimmy, and it
was nice to watch them together. Sometimes we all had fun together."
I probed further. What if he'd left her in a few years?
"Well, so he'd have left. What did I gain by throwing him out sooner
without giving him a fair chance?"
If she regretted her decision, would she ever take him back?
"I've
thought about it. If I could somehow not know what I learned, I think I
would. But I can't. I can just watch his sister crying and crying and
him feeling happy about it. I can't make that memory go away. He said
he regrets it, and that's why he was thinking about it, but that's
still not enough somehow. I think our thoughts were meant to stay in
our own heads."
I told her about the new procedure, and she didn't hesitate a moment.
"I'd
have had it in a flash. No question. I would have done it before we got
married. I'd have done it right after he didn't come home for the
night. I knew taking the potion was bad, but I just couldn't stop
myself. I'd encourage every woman to get one, at least if she's going
to get married."
So that's one woman's testimony. She would have
paid anything to remove the temptation. And she'd have had the doctor
give George proof too.
Of course, things are always changing.
Scientists are already thinking about a way to reverse the procedure in
case women change their minds. And in turn other scientists are
thinking about ways of improving the procedure so it can't be reversed.
Most of the scientists I talked to thought that the irreversibility
will win out in the end.
There's the other solution. A lot of
men just keep using condoms, over and over without fail. Some relent
when they're actually trying to start a baby, but others freeze their
sperm and thaw it out later, when it can start babies but doesn't have
any memories left in it.
"The Bubble in Women's Science" Rachel Johnson, The New York Times
After
a decade of "the potion" becoming an over-the-counter drug, we women
have every right to feel proud. There have been dramatic strides
forward in everything on earth that requires thinking, and it's all
been due to women.
In the bad old days, sexism was everywhere.
Men had the top jobs and they colluded to keep the women out. Slowly,
step by step, things were changing for the better. Not fast enough, but
they were changing.
The magic potion turned the world upside
down overnight. Women who were willing to take charge of their own
sexuality for their own ends learned what the best male minds thought
and even absorbed their habits of thinking. Privately, a lot of the
emerging women geniuses were impressed at how sharp and able those men
were when they could experience a version of it directly. Yet it made
sense; no one had ever said that men were less talented than
women.
Armed
with the knowledge of multiple top men in any given field, the women
surged ahead, outpacing their male colleagues (except certain areas of
mathematics, for reasons that remain unclear).
Once the secret
was out, many men responded by keeping their semen and thus their
knowledge to themselves. Others gave in to the new rampant
cross-pollination in the spirit of scientific inquiry. Others shared
their knowledge when the potential student was sufficiently alluring.
Thereby
hangs another tale, how the rise of women in all fields of endeavor has
been accompanied by terrible losses in terms of "lookism". As in the
past, women are judged by their appearance and rewarded accordingly.
The rewards now are immeasurably greater than anything achievable
before, but the smart women who are also beautiful and hot are the ones
making it to the top.
Women have risen to the top not just in
the academic world, but in industry and finance. We are even making
inroads in politics. Women are still a minority of office-holders, but
they are more influential behind the scenes. Politicians' wives tend to
buy a lot of magic potion.
It's been an easy ride. All we women
have to do is let the great men penetrate us and deliver their sperm --
their deepest and most powerful desire to begin with. We have to study,
sure. We work. But we don't slave the way we all used to. No poring
over journals for tedious hours on end.
But this sudden surge is
not sustainable. It may take years for the structural weaknesses to
undermine progress, but they are already at work.
First, great
men tend to be older. Then they die. Before they die, they become
impotent. Before they become impotent, many tend to lose the urgency of
desire.
Second, younger men are demoralized. They can see that
they're second class citizens and always will be. Sure, many of them
study hard, wanting to succeed and drawn to the opportunity to share
their knowledge in such a pleasurable fashion with the up-and-coming,
sexy women. But that ferocious drive to discover, to go beyond what is
known, to get there first -- it's largely missing.
And what is
the motivation to go that extra yard to learn the very latest
developments? If they succeed, they'll get to teach them to women who
are no younger than 30. Selected for brilliance at that elite level,
their looks tend towards the average. By sticking to safer subjects,
men get to instruct women in their 20s, women who are far more numerous
and where beauty is heavily favored. Yes, the young women have native
smarts, but there is plenty of room to admit only the gorgeous to elite
institutions. The very sharpest women are few and have the range of
appearance of all women. What man wants to study a difficult subject
for six months so he can teach what he knows to a half dozen
not-so-young women of average appearance when he can study less and
teach hundreds of nubile, gorgeous young things?
Another reason
why men are going to be less effective is more controversial. Men
entering grad school are selected to be reasonably 'nice', so
disturbing thoughts and memories don't interfere with the learning
process, either directly or by upsetting the students. By selecting for
"nice" men, we're rejecting most of the alpha males. Very often it was
the rude, obnoxious, and selfish men who were the most driven and
turned out to make the most original contributions. Saying that we're
choosing wimpy, ineffectual men to be our teachers is surely an
exaggeration, but there is also a grain of truth to it.
We women
have made great strides by tapping into the minds of accomplished,
brilliant, driven men. But we have been much less successful in tapping
into each other's minds, because that of course has to be done the
old-fashioned way. It's laborious and tedious, like it always was. The
ease of sexual learning spoils us.
If nothing is done, this
current surge of creativity in all areas of endeavor will tail off.
Women will still predominate, because up through the undergraduate
level, we get to imbibe through our vaginas the thoughts and thought
patterns of many very smart men. But we will have to collaborate with
each other to make progress at the cutting edge of our fields of
expertise, and all signs are that that will be as slow a process as it
was in the old days. Political considerations, striving for recognition
and promotion, beating out the other guy -- all were feature of the old
system. Some feminists used to claim that women were by nature more
cooperative, and if they ran the world people would work together more
harmoniously. To that, all we have to say is: Ha! Women may on the
whole be more cooperative, but the ones who are driven to be the best
have all those same failings as the men they've replaced.
There
are reasonable measures we can take. We can pay men more to master the
most complex subjects. We can reward them with sexual access to the
very hottest women on earth -- something which in the new era no longer
smacks of prostitution as much as it would have before. We can honor
them and give them accolades. We could promise that any secrets their
sperm reveals will stay private.
And we could let the mean,
crude, and obnoxious men study and teach us too; we women could perhaps
just learn to absorb the disgusting crud lurking in the minds of some
men with equanimity. We've already learned to absorb in detail the fact
that most men really are at some level thinking of women as pieces of
meat all the time. Female voices point out that the crud lurking in the
minds of some women is just as disgusting, though that is little
comfort to an individual sweet and innocent woman. The fact that she
would in a different world have to absorb vile thoughts from women
doesn't make it any easier to absorb them from men in this actual world.
But
none of those measures can replace that almost fanatical drive to
dominate. Even with the most strenuous efforts, men will never be able
to grasp the most advanced concepts -- the poor creatures are doomed to
whatever mental habits their own solitary brains can come up with.
Women will have to teach each other the old-fashioned way.
If
the magic potion technology could be enhanced in some fashion to allow
female to female transmission, the possibilities would be limitless,
but prospects are dim. Semen is just very complicated stuff, and women
do not have prostate glands. The possibility of male to male
transmission is slightly more likely, but cervixes are very sensitive
instruments, and no men have them (the nose is very sensitive to
chemical structure, but not in the right way). No existing
transgendered individuals have both a cervix and prostate gland that
are intact and 100% natural. Efforts to create such individuals
confront huge scientific barriers, not to mention the ethical concerns.
The
truth is that going back to the amphibians, if not before, male and
female are complementary, in a constant dance of competition and
cooperation. Evolution favored male strategies to change female
behavior (bonding to them alone, for instance), and favored female
strategies to resist this and to instead decipher male motives (will he
stay and help raise the baby?). The brilliant Cyrus White found that
far more information is encoded in semen than evolution ever
'intended'. The discovery has launched women into positions of
dominance, partially redressing the millenia in which men dominated.
Men may now be in some sense the helpmeets of society's top women, but
their help is essential.
Bethany
married Fred Sacks. She was curious and frequently invited men to teach
her new subjects intimately. Fred Sacks continued to teach high school
math, both in the classroom and by way of private lessons. It was a
typical marriage in the new age. They had no children.
Cyrus married Anne. He was remarkably disciplined in two ways.
He
started as CEO of his company. But before long, he recognized that
talented women could do the job better than he ever could and retreated
to Chairman of the Board, and then religiously kept his vow not to let
it occupy more than one day a week. The rest of his time he devoted to
biochemical research. He never made another discovery on a par with the
magic potion, but he did solid work at the National Center for Disease
Control.
Second, he never 'taught' a woman other than Anne,
staying faithful to her for his entire life. Women and girls fell all
over him for three reasons: fame, riches, and knowledge. He rejected
all advances with quick finality.
Anne was just as faithful,
though she certainly could have learned a great deal if she chose. She
raised four children. They were both content to live a modest
lifestyle, though she usually employed a nanny.
She spent most of her time working to give away their immense fortune
to worthy causes.