👨‍🔬 Mario Molina Pasquel

On Wednesday, October 7, 2020. A national tragedy occurred in the state of Mexico. The famous chemist Mario Molina Pasquel passed away. Don Mario was also known throughout the country as "The last Mexican Nobel prize."  

    Today, I will create what, in my imagination, is a resume of his insane yet inspiring afternoon on June 28, 1974. As a guy who met, talked, and received advice from him, his death news deeply shocked me. 

Well, without further ado, take a seat, grab some napkins—I'm kidding—and let us get on with the story.

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His teammate Frank Rowland said: "Mario, get ready for the questions. The article is about to be presented, and the editorial told us it will be on the front page." He stood in front of a whiteboard jam-packed with possible answers. His clothes were wet with sweat, and his body stayed motionless.

     Rowland's attention was directed to his nervous friend in the room's back part. However, his interest was on the board. His gaze returned to his previous position.

    Mario had a hard copy of the essay in front of him, highlighting the most relevant information. The bunch of papers used for references had previously been placed on the table. Mario felt his hands shaking, his black bags long, and his grey hair depicted tiredness. 

    "Nature!"

    "Chlorofluorocarbon gases!"

    "The Antarctic ozone hole!"

    He could close his eyes and remember the long journey they had to experience to publish that 150-page long research. I haven't slept in weeks; I hope the scientific community loves this, he thought. And he recalled the many occasions when he heard the words: You both are not good enough. The memories caused him regret and fatigue; moreover, the adrenaline was more potent.

    "I hate this," Rowland said.

    "What do you exactly mean, Sherry?"

    Frank tried to turn his body to stare at his friend but only could move his face. "The Atomic Energy Commission just told us to wait another hour. I could die from stress in that hour, you know?"

    "Why don't you sit down and try to rest a bit. We have been through a lot lately."

    Following that, Frank faced the mirror next to the whiteboard, saw his seamed face, spit to it, sighed, and mutter in a low tone to contain his anger. "You are right; If I were a steaming machine, I would be boiling already. I will take a nap."

    "Do you want me to turn the lights off?" Molida asked.

   "If that doesn't bother you, please do it," Rowland said. "Besides, I'm not the only one in this room who hasn't taken a rest recently. Even your mom told you to do it."

    "But I'm not that tired."

    "Oh yes, of course, says the person who has drunk five cups of Joe in three hours."

    Mario stared at his best friend, watching at his dirty glasses and messy hair as the anxiety consumed him, but remembering the preceding words of fear.   

   "Sherry, try to be honest with the next question," Mario whispered. "Do you really think these findings will get us a Nobel Prize?"