CHAPTER 49
Eldred was very worried about his machine.
The local news caused a big stir at school. All the children wanted to talk to Eldred. Even the older ones from the high school came down to the playground at lunchtime to tell him, 'We saw you on telly.’ The headmaster announced at assembly that the school was proud of Eldred. Mrs Garcia was strangely subdued.
The evening before, as soon as the programme was finished, the Jones’ doorbell had started ringing. Neighbours who had never spoken to Eldred except to warn him not to kick his football into their garden suddenly treated him like a member of their family. After the first couple of visits, when the doorbell rang again, Eldred took the stairs two at a time and refused to come down.
'He's doing his homework,’ Mildred said.
Eldred heard the Bells from the next street and the Simmonds from number eleven outside the Jones’ front gate discussing his parents after this. Poor little boy, they said, no wonder he does so much brainwork; his parents push him so hard they won't let him come downstairs and take five minutes off his homework, even to celebrate when he's been on the telly.
Eldred felt guilty but he continued to hide. When Mildred called him to come to the phone, he said, 'Can you tell them I'm not in?’
'It's one of your schoolfriends. Matthew Evans.’
'Matt?’ Eldred was surprised. Why would Matthew Evans, streetwise bold man of the class, phone him, Eldred Jones, who couldn't do wheelies on his bike without wobbling ferociously? He went to the phone.
'Hi.’
'Hi, Eldred. I seen you on the telly this evening.’
'Oh, right.’
There was a pause. 'Seems you invented some machine?’
'Yes,’ said Eldred.
'How come you didn't tell us?’
'I didn't think anyone would be interested,’ said Eldred. 'It's just for industry, that kind of thing.’
'You're kidding,’ said Matthew. 'You must be an effing genius!’
Eldred was at a loss to know what to reply to this so he stayed silent.
'Anyway,’ said Matthew, 'see you at school tomorrow, okay?’
'Okay,’ said Eldred.
'You can be in my gang at breaktime if you like,’ Matthew added.
Eldred hesitated. Matthew's gang's chief activities ranged from climbing drainpipes to pulling little girls’ knickers down. 'I'll think about it,’ he said cautiously. 'Thanks, anyway.’
'No bother,’ said Matthew cheerily. 'See ya, then.’
'Yeah,’ said Eldred. 'See ya, Matt.’
Being famous had its compensations, Eldred thought. But now he was worried about his machine. He had hoped to sell it to some company that might develop it but his fantasy had been to achieve this anonymously, as a Mr E. Jones on the end of a telephone line, driving a hard bargain. Now he had been seen on television as a nine-year old riding his bike, coming home from school in his uniform and eating biscuits in the kitchen.
The next night for Eldred was a series of dreams in which he demonstrated his processing plant to a team of engineers who turned into wolves or fed him into the machine or snatched his patent form from him and sent it whirling away on the breeze, out of reach of his anxiously grasping hand. Eldred had missed so many catches at games, and now that everyone knew that Mr E. Jones was no more than an uncoordinated little boy, surely his invention would be taken away from him, along with his credibility as an inventor?
He wished he had had enough confidence in his invention to phone a couple of companies and ask for their product development manager, or whoever it was, and ask them directly if they would be interested. It was out of his hands now. Louise had involved Bruce Mackeson and this German guy. No doubt they would arrange something between themselves and tell Eldred they had done him a favour.
He was confused. He wanted to be able to decide for himself but he was a child and a child was someone that no one listened to and also someone, Eldred knew, who lacked experience of human adults and their wiles. He disliked being forced to trust people, yet he knew it was no good relying on himself and his own discernment. Nor did he really trust his father to know who was acting in Eldred's best interests, because Edgar was not free of his own self-interest at times.
Eldred suffered the frustration of knowing he was not perfect and of having to live with others’ imperfections as well. He knew in his heart the only answer was to take one step at a time, remaining calm, taking advice, and then making his own decision.
Only if he stayed calm and listened to everyone could he assess the situation carefully. Only if he insisted on being the one to make the final decision could he be sure the invention would only pass out of his hands when he was ready to relinquish the next stage of its development to a person of his own choice. And only if he took his time and refused to be swept along by others’ opinions would he develop the discernment about people's motives that he lacked now and needed to acquire for the future.
His head ached and his eyeballs felt pressurized, trying to see for himself all the ins and outs of the present situation and knowing that they were beyond his line of vision. Who to trust? He would have preferred to have to trust no one but he knew that this wasn't human. He wanted to talk to Terry. Terry could always be relied on to find him the information he needed. Eldred longed for the peace of the reference library, to take refuge there after school, throwing down his bag of easy homework exercises on the floor and sitting at a table with people writing notes, waiting for Terry to bring him a pile of psychology books and articles on lie-detector techniques and the revelations of body language.
Thinking of Terry, though, reminded Eldred that in this respect as well he had been spectacularly lacking in shrewdness. Terry, so unfailingly reliable in providing the right books to suit Eldred's current need, had not been reliable in other ways at all and had used his adult authority to overrule a child's need for respect and privacy. How could someone so sensitive in some ways be so ruthless in others? Eldred sat at his desk in his room and stared at the blank computer screen. It stared back at him, awaiting his instructions. He didn't know how to tell himself what to do next. He felt if he let his first major invention slip out of his hands he would lose control of his whole future.
He called up on the screen the finely drawn diagrams of his processing plant and studied the detailed equations set out in boxes beside each stage of the process.
He felt deeply depressed. There was so much he didn't know.
Genius Page 49