As much as he loathed being out at sea it was still a necessary for Tor to be close enough to his research or to “stay sharp” as he would tell his assistants. The bridge of his research ship, the Poseidon, was eerily lit with red lights to preserve night vision as he entered in with crewmen  scanned the horizons. “We should be in Port of Los Angeles before Midnight.” The Captain assured him. Tor stood there silently in an evening outfit and fedora and with his trusty cane in hand as he stared into the darkness through the bridge windows as if he was looking back at something. “Trust in your navigation. I never liked the currents here.” He spoke then took his gaze off the darkness towards the far-off vista of lights of Santa Monica and the other opulent beaches of Southern California on the horizon. Tor did not think much of California in a way of conducting his research. At his age the culture and politics of California were too busy and too concerned on trivial matters that did not meld well into his pursuits and at times they were even pretentious. As a native Norwegian he saw the American life style as bizarre until after a few decades he became accustomed to it. Years ago when he was a young and fiery entrepreneur they welcomed his radical ideas at the height of the Cold War and felt more at home in Seattle than the fishing village he was born in. Even after 50 years the place seemed it was stuck in time. Now with the Cold War over with and in the "post 9/11 world" the US government is too concerned with maintaining a welfare and surveillance state than taking up the extravagant military contracts that made him insanely rich in the past.<br/><br/>He hoped meeting this new scientist in person would bring fresh ideas to the table and find a suitable person to take over his empire before he becomes too old to manage it all himself. His research was almost complete and could not afford anymore distractions.