Chapter 4
J
T, as James Taylor preferred to be called, sat in front of his computer, writing, as he always did in the early morning. The computer was not in his office, which long ago had become so full of papers and journals that he could hardly squeeze into it. His writing desk was in a favorite spot, snug in a corner but right by the entry door to his lab. Only a couple of feet behind him stood his now little-used, big, old Leica microscope. It may have been out-dated, but it just made him feel good knowing that it was there where it had been for the decades he had been at the University of Washington.
He was well-known for his books on microbiology and had published over 150 articles in respected journals. He was a quiet and sincere man who was happily married to Myra, whom he had m
