oor-to-door in just over 25 hours, stopping only to answer the call of nature, for a short cat-nap in a rest area somewhere in the middle of nowhere and to refuel. I don't know what guided me back to my office, nor do I recall even paying attention to the route. All I remember was Mr. Hunt's instructions and some off-hand comments he'd made which were disconcerting, and hurtful to contemplate.I'd initially called him to see if he could find out more about this supposed merger, and if there was a possibility that any of John F. Reynolds kin may be associated with another engineering company in Tallahassee. I remember Doug speaking of his work involving DSP and although it was a term I wasn't entirely familiar with at the time, I knew that it was related to computers.
I pulled up to my office. Thankfully, all of my staff had left for the night. I certainly did not wish for anyone to know I was already back in town, having told them that I'd be gone for upwards of two weeks. Besides, there'd be too many questions. I had confided in one person that I was intending to meet someone I'd been chatting with (for security purposes) and I couldn't face telling anyone what I'd discovered. I dashed upstairs even though I was terribly exhausted and drained, I wanted to provide Mr. Hunt with the information he'd requested. I turned on my computer and began to "google" DSP. Digital Signal Processing came up on the screen and went on to describe it as the computer technology used in data analysis in the world of science and engineering. "Images from remote space probes, voltages generated by the heart and brain, radar and sonar echoes, seismic vibrations, and countless other applications. Digital Signal Processing is the science of using computers to understand these types of data. This includes a wide variety of goals: filtering, speech recognition, image enhancement, data compression, neural networks, etc".
Still no better informed, I copied the information into an email to send to Mr. Hunt along with a general thumbnail rendition of our cell phone conversation. Then, timidly, I opened the first couple of emails that I'd received from Doug in January of that year, and according to the instructions copied the header information into the email, as Scott had recommended. I completed the email enclosing the personal contact information Scott had requested from me and instructions to call me the following day at home.
Send. The email left my inbox, and I was both hopeful and nervous, for what the results might reveal. I gathered some work and shoved it into my briefcase. I wouldn't be able to return to the office for a few days, lest anyone would see me. Despite not having caught more than a couple of hours sleep the night prior, I was restless, feeling completely numb and though I wanted to roam the beaches of Fiji that evening, as I had for so many nights since I met Doug, no matter how I tried, I couldn't fall asleep that night.
'What bird so sings, yet so does wail?
O,'tis the ravished nightingale!
"Jug, jug, jug, jug, tereu", she cries,
And still her woes at midnight rise. ~ Lyly
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