The Other Things

by Jonathan Dransfield

  Jiggling the hat once more, he collected the last donations, then ushered his protegee towards the entrance.

  Once inside, Buzz took the opportunity to show off his knowledge of the building. ‘These are called “vomitoria”. It’s where everyone came to be sick when it was really gross.’

  ‘What happened to the poet and the animals?’ asked a breathless Elin.

  As orange strands of light streamed through the grand arches and openings in the ancient walls, Buzz told Elin about the Greek plays, which, to the rapture of the bored crowds, were interrupted by wild animals emerging from secret ramped trapdoors in the arena. He expanded on the executions, fights and sea battles that had kept the Roman mob entertained and docile.

  Elin in the Colosseum

  ‘How do you know all this?’ she quizzed.

  ‘I just saw it somewhere.’

  Elin slapped her forehead with sudden recognition. ‘Hey, me too. Buzz, ask my name, will you?’ She turned away and made herself some space in the centre of the arena itself. He already knew her name, but humoured her before she replied.

  ‘Maxima Femina Praelitor my name is, commander of the trolls of the north, of the Köttur Legions, the general, loyal servant to the true founder, Ingólfur Arnarson. Dottir to a einstæð móðir. My vengeance, in this life or the next, I will have.’

  ‘Wow, that’s cool! I love that film,’ said Buzz. ‘How do you remember that quote?’

  Elin smiled. ‘We have very long nights in the winter.’

  ‘Maxima is my number one fighter in “Trumper Cards”. I make them myself. Here, look.’ Out of Buzz’s pocket came a mixed collection of homemade cards, each with a photo or drawing and a series of attributes with a score. There were ball players, historical figures, teachers, even relatives, and a number of blanks still to be done. ‘I’ll fill one out for you when we get back. I’ll have to add singing as your attribute.’

  ‘Fighting I’m good at too!’ Elin said with a grin.

  Buzz tugged on her sleeve. ‘Come on, let’s get back before we get into trouble!’

  The next day, the sliding carriage doors were just closing as two figures made it into the stuffy interior of the Frascati train. Sitting in the carriage were Ford, Jane and Buzz, who immediately recognised Elin, still in her hat and jumper. He gave a nervous smile and turned to look at Ford and Jane.

  To her mother’s surprise, Elin made a beeline for the empty seat next to the boy sitting further up the carriage.

  ‘Hi, Buzz!’

  Kirsten guessed immediately. ‘So, you’re Buzz! Elin told me all about the Colosseum.’

  Ford, distracted from his papers, leaned around to Buzz. ‘Colosseum?’

  Before he could answer, Kirsten was introducing herself. ‘You must be the famous Dr Ford Harris. You know my colleague, Magnus.’

  For a moment Ford scrutinised this face he had seen, but never met. ‘Dr Kirsten Gunnarsdottir?’

  ‘Yes, I’m speaking before you. I believe we’re neighbours.’

  Elin and Kirsten

  Jane recognised Elin. ‘Of course, the girl on the balcony! I’m Jane.’

  ‘Ah, Buzz’s mum.’

  Not quite sure how to describe her relationship with Buzz, she replied, ‘I’m Jane Jernigan, Dr Jane Jernigan.’

  ‘Oh, are you presenting today?’

  ‘Not entirely…’ Jane answered enigmatically.

  ‘Well, you had a hell of a time. Magnus told me all about it. How is everything up there?’ Ford gestured for her to sit by him.

  Kirsten wiggled a finger in her ear to assure him that her hearing was back to normal, and that Reykjavik was slowly patching itself up. ‘It’s a relief to get away. It’s been crazy! Are you all prepared?’

  Kirsten took the seat next to Ford and engaged him in earnest conversation. Jane left them to it and tried to cajole the Colosseum story out of Buzz, with Elin chipping in with her version of events.

  ‘Boys,’ Jane thought. ‘Why are they so bad at communication?’ Then, catching a view of Ford talking shop with the pretty scientist, added, ‘Except when it bloody interests them!’

  At first Buzz did not get it. ‘You said “amuse yourself”, so I did.’

  ‘But I told you to explore the hotel, Buzz.’

  ‘It’s not fair! I did! Then I chose to do something different!’

  Jane was about to remonstrate. ‘But…’ She trailed off, reminding herself of the futility of arguing with such a literal-minded child.

  Elin had had no such problems and proudly told Jane that ‘Mummia sees it as a reflection of an adventurous spirit…’

  Jane glanced over at Dr Gunnarsdottir, who was now animatedly expanding to Ford on the sight of Wilson. Her blue eyes were flashing like the sun on clear waters.

  The little girl continued ‘… allowed to kill people at the Colosseum they were, just for being annoying!’

  ‘I can understand that…’ replied Jane.

  Buzz had removed himself from the conversation. He just stared out of the window at the rows of houses and apartments as they flashed past, and the sections of the antique aqueduct that had once fed Rome. He thought of the endless streams of water flowing in from the far hills, and looked at the lines of washing on every balcony they passed. From togas to Armani in the blink of an eye. How could all this be going on, without him being aware of it? People all over the globe were hanging out their washing, getting on with their lives, and they didn’t touch his world in the slightest. He felt very small, but relieved because what he did or didn’t do couldn’t matter very much.

  The conference centre was smart and stylish. People had travelled from all over. Dov’è la Vita? – Where is life? – was the name of the conference and it was divided into sections on the solar system (life on the terrestrial planets, moons and comets) and outer space (panspermia, the Drake equation and detecting life on exoplanets).

  Drake Equation

  An equation formulated in 1961 by Frank Drake and used to estimate the number of civilisations in the galaxy.

  There were introductions, seminars and debates, and an awards dinner. Ford and Kirsten were part of ‘The solar system: life on the terrestrial planets’, with Ford presenting the prestigious final lecture. He felt frustrated that the news of the ‘fossils’ was still under wraps and there were rumours of it running around the event.

  He was also nervous. Jane’s work had introduced concepts that he’d have been reticent to present without the proof that he had but couldn’t reveal. He’d encouraged Jane to be instinctive in her research, and she had taken up the baton and run ahead of him.

  Kirsten had had no time to work on the format of her own presentation and relied on Elin having prepared the images and script.

  As Professor Sigmund Sternenstaub’s paper closed with questions of how to explore the hidden seas of Europa, Kirsten was pacing the foyer outside. She felt a tug on her shirt. Elin had come to give her the same advice that she’d often given Elin.

  ‘An examination it’s not, Mummia. Enjoy it and do better you will… and don’t forget the huldufólk!’

  Kirsten smiled and tussled her hair.

  Kirsten was beckoned to the lectern. She worked her way through the plush seats and up the short gilded stairs to the ornate podium. She arranged her papers and surveyed the seated audience.

  ‘A little time ago, I was asked by NASA to look at some photos of Mars. Very interesting, but why me?

  Mars and Iceland

  Then they reeled off a list of Hollywood science-fiction movies… They just said, “These movies were filmed in Iceland. Because it looks like another planet. We tried to talk with someone from Acheron, but they bit our heads off. So we thought, let’s ask an Icelander what she thinks of Mars!” So here I am…’

  Kirsten presented pairs of photos of Earth and Mars, all prepared by Elin. She didn’t say which was which, but pointed out the similarities and differences, focusing on the rock formations and landscape. It was a thought-provoking
experience for the audience. It was like being asked to tell whether a particular wine came from Italy or France – you think you know, but then you over-think it and get confused. Kirsten finished by reminding the audience of the recent ‘near miss’.

  Acheron (LV-426)

  Mythical moon orbiting the planet Calpamos

  Named after the river of woe in Greek mythology

  39 light years from Earth

  Geology: Aluminium silicates and volcanic

  ‘Remember, we in Reykjavik have been closer to an extraterrestrial body than anyone except the Apollo astronauts. Why spend all that money on space missions when they come to visit you!’

  The audience rippled with applause and laughter.

  ‘Oh, there’s just one more thing. My daughter Elin, who helped so much with this presentation, would like me to tell you: look out for the huldufólk – they are just below the surface.’

  Elin ran onto the stage and hugged her mother.

  ‘Ah, bless!’ thought Jane. ‘I don’t think I’ll run on and hug Ford.’

  Mount Jefferson

  The audience gave him a rapturous reception as Ford took his place beneath a spectacular panorama of Mount Jefferson on Mars. As he spread his documents on the lectern, he dropped two pages and his fatigue prevented him from calmly reorganising them. He stuttered and struggled through the still unfamiliar script.

  There were a few coughs in the hall. Jane felt mortified. The poor man! Had she pushed him too far in her own wilfulness about coming here? He looked so tired, she thought. ‘Oh, my God! This is Italy. They might boo him off, like at the opera!’

  Ford stopped. There was a dead silence. Peering over his spectacles, he grasped the lectern and scanned the mass of faces. He saw Jane and Buzz, looking uncomfortable. Then, from somewhere, the words ‘Take your time, enjoy it’ crept into his consciousness. A focus and pace took over and it all began to make sense. He could own these words. The old Ford kicked in.

  By the time he had finished, his acknowledgement of Jane’s help was drowned out by the clapping.

  Once the applause had died down, Dr Michael Hermes rose and asked, ‘So, if we are to look under the surface, would we find huldufólk?’

  A bemused Ford copped out and responded with a smile. ‘Huldufólk? Maybe Dr Gunnarsdottir might answer that question?’

  Kirsten stood up and explained. ‘The huldufólk are elves that live in volcanic vents – warm places. That’s where I’d look for real Martians.’

  Another question. ‘Surely this is all just conjecture, or is there something you’re holding back…?’

  How Ford would have loved to tell them about the fossils. He had to keep his answer enigmatic.

  ‘We know that life could have developed on Mars and there are tantalising clues like methane in the atmosphere, but until we can go there we might never know.’

  ‘At least she thanked her daughter!’ said Jane in a huff, as Ford returned to his seat. He tried to explain how he had thanked her, that it must have been drowned out by the clapping, but it fell on deaf ears. The situation was not helped by the sudden presence of Kirsten, who effusively congratulated Ford on his brilliant paper. She turned to Jane. ‘You must be proud of him!’

  ‘I’m proud of both of us! We did it together.’

  ‘A joint paper? But why no credit?’

  ‘Apparently it was drowned out by the applause…’

  Kirsten grilled Jane on her input and eventually she gave up the pretence.

  ‘I wrote it and he read it. He’s been too busy, and I didn’t want to miss the conference and seeing my friends in Pompeii.’

  To Jane’s immediate dismay, Kirsten told her of her own plans to take Elin to Vesuvius and that Ford had kindly suggested they join them in their tour of Pompeii.

  ‘Surely they would have given him a break, after all the work on Wilson?’ Kirsten then made her own disclosure. ‘I’ve been in the same boat. Elin had to put all the slides together for me. I rewrote her script but had to promise to mention her treasured elves.’

  As the day passed, the crowd of astrophysicists grew less appealing to Jane. The hot sun on the verdant slopes of Frascati lured her away. Making her excuses, she offered to take Buzz and Elin for a walk and food. Overlooking the seven hills of Rome was one of the best pizzerias in the world. They devoured the ultra-thin pizzas hot from the wood-fired ovens as they took in the view.

  After the business of the conference ended, the copious volumes of local white wine on offer helped fortify Ford. Out of the modern conference hall, he was doing the rounds of the elegant Palladian reception rooms. There were lots of old friends there.

  He was surveying the throng when a youthful face popped up, pogoing in front of him to try to gain his attention.

  ‘Hi, Mr Harris?’ Jump. ‘Great paper!’ Jump. ‘What about those elves on Mars?’ Jump. Ford looked down at what he thought was a very short science student. ‘Why not humour the kid?’ he thought.

  ‘You mean the huldufólk. If they exist here, why not on Mars?’ He took another swig of the crisp white wine. ‘Half the world believes in supernatural invisible beings, so why not?’

  Since he had now focused his full attention on the youthful figure, the jumping had stopped and the dark-brown eyes were full of expectation. Ford was enjoying the fantastical train of thought.

  ‘Why not mermaids, angels, or little green men as well? It’d keep the conspiracy theorists happy!’

  As they chatted, Ford asked which college she was at.

  ‘Oh, I’ve finished my degree in journalism. I work for the Nuovo Scienziato now. Can I quote you?’ She whisked out a notebook and disappeared into the crowded room, taking notes along the way.

  Jane was showing the children some of her favourite places and the pizza she bought them was unlike anything Buzz had tasted. It was all about the thin, freshly baked bread and simple, delicious toppings. It was as if he’d had these things in black and white all his life, and now they were in colour. Jane watched Elin devouring the food and basking in the sunlight. In Elin’s home the summer sun could shine all day and night, but never with this warmth. The little girl even thought about taking her hat off, but didn’t risk it and just enjoyed being warm to the core.

  Jane was enjoying their company. ‘Can I show you a secret place?’

  They kicked up dust as they wound their way through the narrow streets until they reached a gap in some railings. Crouching, Jane went through and led them into a stony, neglected garden. Her breathing became heavier as they paced up the hill towards an outcrop. Hidden between a ring of cypresses was a small, ancient, circular temple. The two children skipped behind her, then stood as she took in the structure. She seemed to be lost in thought.

  ‘Come on!’ They went up a concentric circle of worn steps. There were seven pilasters set in seven short curved walls holding up a corniced dome. The gaps between the walls were all strangely different. They gathered in the middle of the dais and Jane put a finger to her lips. Beyond their silence and the incessant rumble of traffic, they could hear a clear and haunting moan resounding from the walls. As the wind drifted around the surrounding trees and through each opening, the notes changed in a perfect octave.

  ‘Templum Octo Ventis,’ declared Jane. ‘The Temple of Eight Winds. It’s been here for 2,000 years, and guess what? It tells you if it’s raining too!’

  Buzz was amazed. ‘Wow, how’s that?’

  Looking up, Jane pointed at the oculus. ‘There’s a hole in the roof!’

  Buzz got it. ‘That must be the eighth wind. It starts the next scale – listen to it whistling!’ All those guitar sessions with Granf had not been lost. ‘This is cool! How did you find it?’

  For an instant Jane’s eyes misted over and she let them into another secret. ‘Many years ago, when I was young and foolish, I met an Italian prince. Well, that’s what he told me. He was very romantic and he promised to show me something really beautiful if I gave him one kiss.’ She smiled t
o herself. ‘I might have been foolish but not stupid, so I said, “Look, show me something beautiful and I’ll think about it”, so he took me here!’

  ‘Oh, how wonderful! Did you kiss him?’ squealed Elin.

  ‘Yuk!’ whispered Buzz.

  Jane stood in the centre of the dais and told them, ‘He took me in his strong arms, right here, and on this spot I looked deep into his dark eyes as he prepared to kiss me.’

  ‘And did he?’ implored Elin.

  Jane laughed out loud. ‘No, sorry, cariad. It started chucking it down!’

  ‘Praise the Lord!’ declared Buzz.

  ‘Not then anyway…’

  ‘Have you seen Elin?’ Kirsten whispered to Ford, as he earnestly discussed his paper with his old friend Alim Azim.

  ‘Didn’t Jane tell you? She took the kids out for a break from all this.’

  ‘So, that’s what she meant by “whisk”…’

  Kirsten, used to Elin being looked after by others, had no further questions apart from ‘Who are you?’ to Alim.

  Taking her hand, he said, ‘Dr Alim Azim. My friends call me “Limo”.’

  ‘Well, Doctor, why are you here?’

  Alim felt like he was at an airport. ‘Business and pleasure!’ he joked, clicking his heels together. ‘Well, actually, this chap’s mates keep asking me to comment on stuff, so I thought I’d bump along.’

  ‘Whisk, chap, mates, bump… I wish they’d speak English!’ Kirsten thought to herself. She almost dismissed Alim as a buffoon, but warmed to his charm. ‘Actually… they keep asking me about my volcanic landscapes!’

  ‘Oh, I know. I saw your delivery. Iceland’s probably the worst place in the world for my research, being so young, but… if you were looking for Ford’s Martians, where would you look?’

  ‘Our island is made of volcanoes and glaciers. I remember years ago searching for volcanic tubes. They are tunnels left in the rock as the magma oozes out of the Earth. Up by the glaciers, they get plugged with ice. We spent two days hacking through the ice before we got into the rock tubes beyond. The white ice became bluer and clearer as we worked away, until it was like a pane of glass through which we could see down the cave. In the distance was a great pool of water.’