Dark*Matter Bio: Dr. James Whitman, Ph.D.
Sent to me by one of my players, in exchange for an action-point reward.
***
Hello there, old boy! The name’s Whitman, Doctor James Whitman. My friends call me Whitman or just Whit. I heard you wanted to know more about me. That’s understandable, because you won’t find my name in many publications, despite my Ph.D. from Oxford. I suppose I should start at the beginning.
I was born on the 30th of May, 1977 in a small town in Oxfordshire. My parents were wealthy landowners and heirs to a small fortune from my grandparents’ inventions in military technology for World War II. Although I never met my grandparents-they died before I was three years old-I suppose the knack for scientific and mechanical pursuits stayed in the family. As a child, I would take things apart and make new things to help me do my chores. I used to love poking around under the sink for the chemicals. My parents noticed, I’m sure, but they knew I was smart enough not to hurt myself. Suffice it to say, after upper third grade (that’s 6th grade to you Americans), bullies learned to stay away from me.
I don’t know how I graduated from my high school as Valedictorian: it seems I spent so little time in subjects that did not involve my (now rather developed) talents with chemicals and electronics. Towards the end of my high school career, my free time was spent at Oxford-a mere 20 kilometres away from my school. I practically stalked the chemistry and engineering majors; I wanted to know everything about the world outside my small town. It was then I got a taste of the phenomena on the edge of society.
When I went to Oxford-and by the end of my lower sixth year (11th grade) I was set on Oxford, though I did not know it at the time-it was all I thought it would be and more. I could pursue my passion as a double major in chemistry and chemical engineering. The field of chemical engineering was a small one, and as such, I was tight with the small community of students and professors in the field. I met my first love there: an Irish girl by the name of Dana O’Shea. I dated her through the whole of my undergraduate years, and into the first year of my graduate school, also at Oxford. I found out that she was part of a secret society that included many of my friends. I felt so betrayed that I dropped out of school for a whole year. That year, the idea of my entire social circle participating in a secret society gnawed at me. I finally relented, but when I returned to Oxford, they were all gone, leaving no records of them ever actually attending. I finished my doctorate with half my brain on my studies and the other half trying in vain to solve the puzzle of this secret society.
I took a job at KemTek immediately after school at a great salary. For the first year, I worked in the labs outside of London, and lived in a flat downtown. About six months into the job, I met my second love, a woman two years younger than me by the name of Theresa. I never knew her last name, because she also worked for KemTek, and we couldn’t know each other’s identities, for security reasons (I don’t know why the management was so paranoid: we were only working on standard medicinal lines of research). She only knew me as James-oh, how I wish she could have called me by my nickname! I despised my given name back then. Nevertheless, we loved each other. We planned to quit our jobs, elope, and live in the country somewhere (what can I say? I was young and naïve). I’m convinced the company knew of our plan, because they sent me off to do field work mere weeks before our planned escape. I never saw Theresa again.
I’ve spent the rest of my time-let’s see, it must be about six years now-in the field. I’ve been all over the third world. I’ve been in jungles and rainforests, on the tundra and in the desert, at the bottom of the oceans and to the top of mountains. I’ve tried to keep my British heritage in mind, because what else did I have? I only stopped back at home for scant days before I was sent off again. What was I doing? I was searching the world for natural objects and ancient practices that could help KemTek in their ventures. I was well financed, to be sure, but I never knew quite what I was looking for, or how I would help the company at large. Still, KemTek has given me a chance to see the world, a perk few can claim to their job. Plus, there have been many chances for me to use my…talents with chemicals and electronics. I met many women along the way-it seems life throws temptation my way but removes it right before I can grab it-but I was old enough and mature enough to know how those relations would work out. That’s partly why I chose this job. I felt…feel that a change of environment should be good for me.
But here, I haven’t gone into my experience with the phenomena. I suppose you could say it came with the job. I’ve been to the edge of reality and back. I’ve been so far away from any other living soul that sometimes I have to remind myself that I’m not the only man left on the earth. I’ve seen things-strange things-both in the centers of human occupation, and on the edge of the known world. You think we’ve explored the whole Earth? You believe that space is the ‘final frontier’? Psh. We’ve got years, if not decades, left of exploration of the fringes of the known universe, right here on earth. You really get a sense of perspective on the world when you’re so far removed for so long. One just can’t step back from normal life far enough without being on the opposite side of the world. I just have an observant mind, I suppose. Some people call me cynical. I just see reality.
***
Hello there, old boy! The name’s Whitman, Doctor James Whitman. My friends call me Whitman or just Whit. I heard you wanted to know more about me. That’s understandable, because you won’t find my name in many publications, despite my Ph.D. from Oxford. I suppose I should start at the beginning.
I was born on the 30th of May, 1977 in a small town in Oxfordshire. My parents were wealthy landowners and heirs to a small fortune from my grandparents’ inventions in military technology for World War II. Although I never met my grandparents-they died before I was three years old-I suppose the knack for scientific and mechanical pursuits stayed in the family. As a child, I would take things apart and make new things to help me do my chores. I used to love poking around under the sink for the chemicals. My parents noticed, I’m sure, but they knew I was smart enough not to hurt myself. Suffice it to say, after upper third grade (that’s 6th grade to you Americans), bullies learned to stay away from me.
I don’t know how I graduated from my high school as Valedictorian: it seems I spent so little time in subjects that did not involve my (now rather developed) talents with chemicals and electronics. Towards the end of my high school career, my free time was spent at Oxford-a mere 20 kilometres away from my school. I practically stalked the chemistry and engineering majors; I wanted to know everything about the world outside my small town. It was then I got a taste of the phenomena on the edge of society.
When I went to Oxford-and by the end of my lower sixth year (11th grade) I was set on Oxford, though I did not know it at the time-it was all I thought it would be and more. I could pursue my passion as a double major in chemistry and chemical engineering. The field of chemical engineering was a small one, and as such, I was tight with the small community of students and professors in the field. I met my first love there: an Irish girl by the name of Dana O’Shea. I dated her through the whole of my undergraduate years, and into the first year of my graduate school, also at Oxford. I found out that she was part of a secret society that included many of my friends. I felt so betrayed that I dropped out of school for a whole year. That year, the idea of my entire social circle participating in a secret society gnawed at me. I finally relented, but when I returned to Oxford, they were all gone, leaving no records of them ever actually attending. I finished my doctorate with half my brain on my studies and the other half trying in vain to solve the puzzle of this secret society.
I took a job at KemTek immediately after school at a great salary. For the first year, I worked in the labs outside of London, and lived in a flat downtown. About six months into the job, I met my second love, a woman two years younger than me by the name of Theresa. I never knew her last name, because she also worked for KemTek, and we couldn’t know each other’s identities, for security reasons (I don’t know why the management was so paranoid: we were only working on standard medicinal lines of research). She only knew me as James-oh, how I wish she could have called me by my nickname! I despised my given name back then. Nevertheless, we loved each other. We planned to quit our jobs, elope, and live in the country somewhere (what can I say? I was young and naïve). I’m convinced the company knew of our plan, because they sent me off to do field work mere weeks before our planned escape. I never saw Theresa again.
I’ve spent the rest of my time-let’s see, it must be about six years now-in the field. I’ve been all over the third world. I’ve been in jungles and rainforests, on the tundra and in the desert, at the bottom of the oceans and to the top of mountains. I’ve tried to keep my British heritage in mind, because what else did I have? I only stopped back at home for scant days before I was sent off again. What was I doing? I was searching the world for natural objects and ancient practices that could help KemTek in their ventures. I was well financed, to be sure, but I never knew quite what I was looking for, or how I would help the company at large. Still, KemTek has given me a chance to see the world, a perk few can claim to their job. Plus, there have been many chances for me to use my…talents with chemicals and electronics. I met many women along the way-it seems life throws temptation my way but removes it right before I can grab it-but I was old enough and mature enough to know how those relations would work out. That’s partly why I chose this job. I felt…feel that a change of environment should be good for me.
But here, I haven’t gone into my experience with the phenomena. I suppose you could say it came with the job. I’ve been to the edge of reality and back. I’ve been so far away from any other living soul that sometimes I have to remind myself that I’m not the only man left on the earth. I’ve seen things-strange things-both in the centers of human occupation, and on the edge of the known world. You think we’ve explored the whole Earth? You believe that space is the ‘final frontier’? Psh. We’ve got years, if not decades, left of exploration of the fringes of the known universe, right here on earth. You really get a sense of perspective on the world when you’re so far removed for so long. One just can’t step back from normal life far enough without being on the opposite side of the world. I just have an observant mind, I suppose. Some people call me cynical. I just see reality.