Macey Goldberger was the worst Ph.D. student the Department of Experimental General Studies had ever produced.  After four years of hard work, he never managed higher than a B+ on any paper he had ever written.  His advisor had all but given up on him.  His papers and presentations had been rejected by every journal and conference in his field.  His last submission to General Quarterly, had been sent back to him with no comments.  Instead, the editor was so disgusted he simply drew a sad emoticon on the title page :( and wrote the word "idiot."

Macey's advisor, Dr. Bradford Love, Ph.D., told him his major problem with his writing was a conspicuous lack of generality.  "You're too specific.  Look at this thesis statement.  You really nail down the topic.  That just won't work.  Try to be more vague.  You know, more general." 

Macey was fast approaching his final semester, and he had almost nothing to show for it besides a highly organized, insightful almost pioneering dissertation of three hundred pages.  In his last meeting with his committee, they had brutally kicked and beaten his dissertation nearly to death.  Professor Jane Smith was so distraught over Macey's ability to "get to the point" that she began to sob.  Dr. Edgar Boil crumpled up the first page and began to eat it in front of Macey.  Bradford Love, Ph.D., began to laugh.  "Edgar, what does it taste like?"  Dr. Boil was characteristically vague, "Dunno," he said, "just like some stuff."  Macey knew he had only once chance left to salvage his career and win his committee's acceptance.  He would have to talk to his father, Sir Jimmy Goldberger.

Sir Jimmy was not actually knighted by the Queen of England, but he commanded so much respect that, ever since the age of twenty-two, when he made his first million, everyone had simply refered to him as Sir.  Even his own father, Macey's grandfather, began to call him Sir out of fear that his son would not take care of him in his old age--and indeed, he did not.  Sir Jimmy had donated thirty-five million dollars to the university.  In fact, the very room in which Dr. Boil ate part of Macey's dissertation was called the Sir Jimmy Memorial General Room.  Sir Jimmy was not dead, but he said he liked the sound of memorial.  He felt it added a certain gravitas to the room, which was known to most simply as Sir Jimmy's. 

Macey had not spoken to his father in almost a year.  He knew he had only been allowed into the program because of his father, but he tried desperately to find his own way, to succeed as his own man.  So far, that hadn't worked out so well.  Now he had no choice.  He would have to beg his father to help him, but he knew it would be difficult because Macey and his father shared a terrible secret.  A secret that only they knew.  It was a secret so painful that if anyone else found out, it would ruin Sir Jimmy's reputation, and possibly destroy both of their lives.  But Macey had no choice.  He made up his mind that if he had to, he would use the secret against his father.  Macey knew it was wrong, but he also knew the world was wrong, and his committe was wrong.  They were all wrong and bad, and they had hated him for the last four years.  All Macey wanted was a fair chance.  He knew his work would revolutionize the field of Experimental General Studies, and he was prepared to do anything to get what he felt he deserved.

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