Smartystan

Delaseer started as a corporation. It transformed into a 501 (c) (3). That process became evident in the capacity where the four founders transitioned from being millionaires and billionaires to being philanthropists in the most sincere and passionate of ways. Dr. Kaija Frampton had delivered the biggest hunk of her fortune to endow the project.

With every flick of her wrist as she painted, she recalled the first seed money that she sent online. As she worked on her piece, the day began to break early in the morning. She looked at the clock and heard the footsteps of her husband coming down the stairs.

“It’s four-thirty, K,” Gamble Frampton said. He was tallish with dark skin and gray eyes. He had been a physicist for close to fifteen years. The duo had met in college.

“I know. I just wanted to work. I don’t need sleep right now. This clears my head for the day. You are in my space. This is my zone. I appreciate you, baby, but I’ve got to work on this painting.” Gamble raised his hands and returned up the stairs. Once she heard the door click shut, she announced for the room to get colder and for the lights to get brighter. Her days as a chemist led her to an early Maynard Daly Prize for her work on supercell chemistry. It entailed the ability for healthy cells to attack unhealthy ones in patients. She became a laureate at just twenty-eight years old.

Now, though, this picture of a goddess with wings penetrated her imagination. Through great understanding of light and form, she crafted the work with the precision that she used in the lab. Each stroke provided her with more confidence than to just lay up in bed and snore away her aspirations. Instead, she took the time to realize the beauty of creating something new.

She reached for her cup of coffee. As she sipped, she looked past the digital canvas and saw the other three founders all smiling on a ledge above her fireplace. All of them donned helmets and dress attire and clutched golden shovels. During the groundbreaking of the Delaseer headquarters, they had all been together then and saw the group grow tighter with this mission to create Smartystan. Dr. Frampton did most of the talking to get the then president of the United States to allow the state of Delaware to be transformed into another incarnation. “A country within a country”––she was the first to say that. In time, the president allowed for the government to be installed at the local and federal levels. Dr. Frampton sipped some more.

As she continued to work on the wings of the goddess, she let her eye focus in with the contact technology that could distinguish the color and the light and give her greater guidance with knowing how to place the paint where some folks can’t.

Her breathing regulated. Since she had started to study painting, it became an obsession, a relief, a pain, and out and out joy for her to pursue this activity. More sips of coffee became like little rockets, shooting their way through her system, the caffeine the fuel for her ideas to become manifest. She thought about Covey, Belinda, and Vestin. All of them had a way of conveying a story through their work. They had side projects as well. Dr. Covey Strong rebuilt classic cars; Belinda loved to make cosmetic videos for the Internet. And of course, when Vestin didn’t calculate numbers in his crypto bank, he rode rails with ease.

Dr. Frampton in particular was drawn to the arts because of her jazz pianist father. He pushed for her to go in any direction she wanted. This was the worst thing you could tell a child of about nine years old because she felt free to do anything. When her parents had passed, she vowed to keep the promise to that little nine-year-old and honor her father’s insight. The virtual brush imbued a sense that life could be grand, wonderful, bursting with elan. This all poured out of her soul. The door clicked open again. More footsteps.

“I thought you needed refueling,” Gamble said. He replaced her coffee. On the side of the cup read the temperature, acidity rate, and amount of sugar to water, cream, and caffeine ratio. Dr. Frampton didn’t need any of this information. She drank her coffee blacker than the deepest piece of lignite.

Gamble observed the painting. “It’s beautiful.”

“It’s not done,” Dr. Frampton snapped and then smiled.

“Why don’t we make an exhibition? All of these pieces are floating around in the cloud ready to be pulled down and shown to the world.”

“I’m a chemist. That’s my forte. This is just my emotional connection to my inner self.”

Gamble grinned. “I get it. You want to keep your work for yourself, me, and the kids. You don’t want other people, outsiders, to intrude on the very thing which makes your soul sing. That’s understandable.”

Dr. Frampton laid down her brush. “Yes, dear, it is. I think your time as an engineer has been one fraught with uncertainty, even danger. We all have risky jobs in this family. That is what keeps us going at the same time. We’re like the inner workings of an ancient clock. Each piece must work with the other pieces or the entire structure collapses. You know that better than anyone I know.”

Gamble conceded. “Yes, ma’am.”

“With all that is going on with the start of a state-country, we’re going to be asked just what we’re here for and why we are doing certain things. Will you be there?” She said it without the slightest bit of sentimentality. She said it as if she were describing the periodic table.

“Of course. That’s why I’m here. I step back so you can step forward. I’m the prize in this arrangement. But I’m glad to see your face whenever you consider my worth. It makes us both grow together.”

She smiled. “That’s right,” she toasted with her mug and they sipped at the same time. “Now, I thank you for topping me off with the java, but I’ve got moves to make. This painting is all consuming and I’m in the zone again. So if you would just kindly go back upstairs, it would mean a great deal to me.”

“As you wish madam,” Gamble said in the most cloying manner. He gathered up her old cup and shuffled up the stairs, unlocking the door with facial recognition.

It was back to the vision. Dr. Frampton looked at the black winged things. The cherubic features looked like itty-bitty babies. The center featured the black goddess with wings forcing the eye to notice them first. Then, the viewer looked down at the other characters below and saw the ascendency of this goddess. She didn’t think in terms of masterpiece or magnum opus. All she saw was the work. The sweat equity that went into the formation of this project excited her. It drove her. To keep in mind all of the tasks she would have to fulfill as one of the best chemists in her field, what would others think of her paintings? Dr. Frampton didn’t give a damn. Her work continued to be a driving force in everything she did, whether that was chemistry or painting, science or art.

The approach to both disciplines remained the same––work smart. In a previous life, Dr. Frampton worked as a custodian, secretary, trashwoman, and a rideshare driver. All of this paid for a portion of her college tuition. The undergraduate degree she had earned a scholarship for a full ride. For her master’s and doctorate, however, she had to offer funds based on her own toil. So, she listened and learned from those average people. Those same folks that it seemed impossible to get into the new country based on their acumen. As she progressed, she picked up on certain ideas. “Bend with your knees.” “Don’t make love to it.” “Don’t kill yourself lugging all of that.” This didn’t humble her. Quite the opposite. She found joy in the thought that men and women of average ability had the chance to become citizens of Smartystan given their ability to study and set out on a voyage of discovery.