Well, it's ninety pages and twenty-five thousand words, so that's a bit of felinity whenever you're ready for it; but the entirety of that is supposed to be pretext for what happens next, and I honestly haven't figured out what that might be.
A good technique to treat both of you might be to have Tom read it to you. It has a good hook and it gets interesting rather quickly.
To be honest, the science of this potion of science fiction is mostly nonsense.
Tom’s too sullen for that right now. I’m hoping he’ll feel better after a good night’s sleep. Sometimes it’s like having a second 14-year-old girl in the house ... only twice as big, and smellier.
Well then, your path is obvious.
You take that science in your science fiction that is mostly nonsense and do with it what L. Ron did with his bag of similar stuff.
After you sign up the other half of Hollyweird that L. Ron doesn't have you'll be set to die a rich man from your, um, writings...
Beats the starving artist role by a bunch. ;-)