Chapter Three
Wasteland

July 7th,

Hot dry barren, for miles on end with vary little variation on the theme. Heat pooled on the black top in the distance, and then vanished as the car closed on each elusive patch. Dr. Lisa Sherman was as isolated from the scenery as she was from the ninety six degree heat, if anything she was a little chilly, courtesy of the air conditioner.

She was totally absorbed in her new assignment, her hard work and innovative ideas had won her much sought after prize. Not only a new assignment but also she was entering her first position of leadership. Project Manager.

She was surprised when Dr. Lemay gave her the position. Dr. Lemay was her boss, he was the Assistant Director of Non-Destructive Technologies. This was a misleading title. Dr. Lemay was the Assistant Director all right, but the Non-destructive Technologies part really referred to not destroying that which the enemy held and you wanted to capture intact, with little to no resistance or danger to your troops.

Although the technologies that they sought were preferable and more humane than say a neutron bomb, and certainly better than conventional nuclear-chemical-biological weapons. The goal remains nearly the same. Someone had said, Maybe Oliver North or Rush Limbaugh, then frequently repeated, "War is killing people and breaking things". This simple statement started to be picked up by other talking heads, then politicians, it became a statement of the times. It could be heard now in the White House, as the 'War on Terrorism' trudged on.

But the goal of warfare was changing, breaking things was no longer a desired part of the equation. The United States and NATO had historically poured money into the reconstruction of countries after conducting war operations in them. The new goal of war was driven by pure economics, the expense of rebuilding a nation's infrastructure could be, and should be, eliminated.

Lisa had a reputation for being hard headed and difficult to work with. She had once described her approach to research as, "A tenacious pursuit toward a specific result". It was that exact statement that had interested Dr. Lemay in Lisa. He had read it in the various papers that came with her Resume. Unlike many of that time, Lisa tried even a new approach to her resume. Dr. Lemay remembered being intrigued at the fact that her resume was a simple cover letter, which was packaged with a CD-Rom. He plopped it in the drive tray and up popped her resume, as well as an index to just about all the work, awards, papers, photographs, etc. that Dr. Lisa Sherman had ever done.

After he hired her, he discreetly observed her performance, and the way she carried herself. It was not so much Lisa's work, not necessarily her results, but her methods that interested him. He eventually chose her for this project, he groomed her for it before anyone but himself even knew of it's existence, this was a pet project of Dr. Lemay and Dr. Sherman was the right women for the job. Things were progressing nicely.

A ranking member of the military had just blasted the doors wide open for his project. This retirement bound General publicly and heatedly broke with the President on the use of excessive force in the Sudan. What was left of the Sudan made Somalia look like Eden. The people who held the purse strings of Dr. Lemay's budget pressed the right buttons at this opportune moment. Congressmen, Senators, and key members of the Media began promoting and popularizing 'Non-destructive and Non-lethal Weapons'.

This was the windfall Dr. Lemay had long prayed for, his budget quadrupled just two months after the General spoke. Not only that but now the work was less black, more acceptable in the eyes of the people, and therefore the eyes of the politicians.

The time was right, it was of little risk to promote Dr. Sherman to head this project. She was also designed to be expendable should things not work out as planned. Dr. Lemay had asked Mary to write up the project proposal. He was so crafty in his approach he wondered if the arrogant Ms. Sherman thought it to be her own work, "Her idea"! It was perfect, and he felt almost giddy over the well-laid plans. Lisa submitted 'her' proposal, he promoted her and put her in charge of 'her' idea. And if anyone was ever ready to obey the command to fall on his or her sword, it was Dr. Lisa Sherman.

Open minded was not the way that Lisa's co-workers would have described her. They would select from a much harsher list of attributes. On many occasions Lisa had found herself in earshot of just such words. They were just jealous and futile slugs at her reputation by less worthy researchers. But the attempts at character assassination fell well short. She was selected, she would head up her own project team now!

She was also indebted to Dr. Lemay who had absent-mindedly given her the idea over coffee at the Starbucks stand in the plaza about three months ago. She was sure he saw what she had developed from his casual comments. It was a gamble, but after all he had suggested she pursue it. So she wrote it up and submitted it and hoped he would not be offended by seeing something he had once said to her in casual confidence written as a proposal in her name coming down the chain of command to his plop squarely on Dr. Lemay's desk. She was grateful to him, and to herself for seizing the moment and running the risk of pissing off her boss and ending her chances at promotion.

It was the mounting pressure in her bladder that slowly moved Lisa out of her thoughts of self-adoration, her detailed plans pre organized within her tidy cranial cavity, and the dreamy white clouds of her ambitious dreams which floated above them. The growing reality was the basic urge to relive herself. A real time problem that wasn't nearly as pleasant as her previous preoccupations on her long drive in this wasteland.

The last restroom had been about eighty miles ago, twenty miles beyond that point the road had narrowed and became dusty, obviously less traveled. Lisa had not noticed at all when her Avis Cadillac DeVille had sailed over a cattle guard that marked the end of the fence line which had faithfully followed both edges of the road until that point. How long had it been since she stopped for lunch in Promontory? Lisa did recall the old Locomotives in Golden Spike Park as she drove around town. If it were not for this historic attraction she felt little Promontory Utah would not be more than old rails and red dust dotted with sagebrush.

She realized just how self-absorbed she had been on the last leg of her drive. The last detail of the drive that she did remember was a careful check of the map, and the review of the 'Mapquest driving directions page' she had printed out the day before. Lisa had driven to the turn off, and then pulled to the side of the road to verify that the sun faded sign did indeed say "Hansen Ranch 18 Miles". That had been, must have been the correct sign, and the correct turnoff. Lisa didn't remember passing any ranch, she couldn't recall so much as an outhouse since that turn off. She could not even recall seeing one car after making that turn.

Well there were no two ways about it. To Pee or not to Pee? Was not a question to ponder any longer. The time was right now, and the place was right here, wherever the hell here was. She slowed the Cadillac abruptly, and then choosing a suitable location stopped it, but only partially off the road. Lisa was positive that not one car had passed her the entire time she was on this road. She knew it was basically a road to nowhere. The chances of being seen by anyone now were astronomical, yet there was a slight chance, the element of risk did exist as well. But Lisa was comfortable with her reasoning that no one would surprise her while she did her deed.

She had worn shorts and a blouse on the military flight into Hill Air Force Base, but as she exited the aircraft the temperature on the ramp was oppressive, there was a breeze that was more akin to opening the door of a blast furnace. She had found a bathroom in the transit terminal and changed into a light sundress. It would take a few weeks to adjust to the climate of northern Utah.

Lisa stretched her tiny frame across the wide seat of the Cadillac to unlock the passenger door. Her dress had no pockets for car keys, she did not want to lock herself out of the car here, oh God not here! The car was much larger and much nicer than her old clunk she sold off in Maryland. Lisa let an exaggerated burst of air escape her lips as she released her seat belt and prepared to stretch across the seat again, this time without the restraints. As she began her second attempt at reaching the door lock, the door lock switch on the passenger door came into view. The power accessory switches were after all, there all along. They seemed to say to her, what are you doing? I am a Cadillac. I have power everything! Just press the Switch! Duh. She pulled back and pointedly hit the unlock button on her door to open them all, then shut the car off and snatched the keys from the ignition anyway, as she was driven to go now!

She flung open the door and swung out her legs gracefully and lady-like mindful that the dress didn't ride up. What was she doing? Her bladder was directly affecting her thinking, "There is no one here who cares what you look like Lisa!" She said to herself. The heat hit her again just as it did as she exited the aircraft earlier that day. The effect this time was like punching the eject button for her bladder. She gathered up her dress, put a thumb to each hip and in one smooth movement pulled her panties off and over her sandals, then stood up and rotated herself towards the car. She slammed her panties and the keys on the top. She bent down to gather her dress again, took two steps out towards the back of the car. Then there in the roadway pulled her dress tight and up high around her waist, and with her legs spread, but without squatting, she let the damn burst. Oh this felt good, the sun on her legs and pelvis felt comforting and relief flooded over her as she flooded the hot asphalt. Men had life easy. But then again she had just proved to herself yet again that she could act just as they do, to hell with male dominance and the connivances built into this world for them. A society built on penis envy, penis infrastructure, and penis corporations that buy penis politicians. Lisa finished, let out a long sigh and reassured herself that she was indeed feminine, the better of the two.

She walked the remaining distance to the edge of the roadway in the other lane, she stretched hard, pulling the muscles to rouse them. She Bent at the waist to stretch out her back her lying blonde hair was not cut too long, but she could bend just a bit further and touch it to the roadway, she chuckled to herself, seems like a pose from a bad night of surfing seedy internet sites. Quickly she rose, went back the car took the keys and her panties from the dusty roof, Lisa climbed back inside. She wadded her panties up and tucked them into her bag, closing the Velcro over them. Lisa put the keys back in place, started the great Cadillac, and felt the air condition against her skin, which had had just enough exposure to the late afternoon heat to begin to perspire. Now how much further is that lab?

The rear tires on the Caddy sprayed dust on one side and gravel on the other as she quickly accelerated, feeling much more comfortable and settling in again behind the wheel. She would get to the lab, or the end of the road sooner or later.

As it turned out it was just six miles away from her pit stop. The road dropped away sharply and went to gravel, and twenty yards past the end of the pavement stood the sign and the short gravel drive to the lab complex. The sign read, "University of Utah Agricultural Research Facility." She had arrived at her new home for the next few years.