Excelsior

by George Sirois

  “Ready?” Katherine asked. Kristin nodded and gave a thumbs-up sign. Suddenly, Kristin was in a dressing room of what appeared to be a Broadway theater. In the mirror she saw an older version of herself wearing full theatrical make-up and an ornate costume. She gasped.

  “I’m Lucy from ‘Jekyll & Hyde.’” Her favorite part from one of her favorite musicals. How often had she driven her family nuts singing “Bring On the Men” all over the house? Now she was going to perform it in front of a Broadway audience. She felt butterflies being swept away on a wave of elation.

  Kristin touched her wig. Lucy! A chill ran up her spine as she heard a tap on the door.

  “Ms. Harrison.”

  She swept out the door and followed a stagehand to the wing. The orchestra played the all-too-familiar opening to “Bring On the Men” and she took a deep breath as she stepped onto the stage and…

  “No, WAIT!” Kristin tore off the goggles. “Turn it back on! It was my cue!”

  The class burst into laughter.

  “I'm sorry, you're only allowed three minutes. That way, you don't get caught in the trap of just watching your future play out in front of you rather than concentrating on making sure it becomes your reality.”

  “Please, three more minutes. Just let me sing the bridge!”

  “I’m sorry. We have rules.” Katherine’s face was unmoved.

  Sulking, Kristin threw herself into her seat. Suddenly, a thought broke through. Her hand shot up. “Professor, does this mean I really have what it takes to become a Broadway star?”

  “It means you have the potential but making it a reality is up to you,” Katherine said evenly.

  A clamor ran through the class. A boy in the back shouted, “You’ll always be a star to us, Kristin.”

  Katherine quieted the class with a glance that made Mr. Hayhurst adjust his tie.

  “Who would like to be next?”

  After a moment of silence, the classroom erupted into pandemonium. “I’m next! I wanna go next! Me professor, me!” Jen Eldridge, Cara Jean Long and Lisa Brumley (who finally put away her notebook with “Mrs. Edward Cullen” written all over it) were the most persistent and most vocal of the class, their desks pushed together as always. Much to their chagrin, Katherine wasn't looking in their direction.

  Joe Pospisil went next. While wearing the goggles, he looked down at the suit he was now wearing and then realized he was sitting at an executive desk. His office door open, he could see members of the New York Mets in uniform walking down the hallway.

  Bruce Gibson took his turn and saw himself as one of the top producers for an independent film production company. He could make out the name “Tatum Pictures” before his time ran out.

  Kyle Wingfield, wearing his varsity football letterman's jacket with pride, expected to see himself putting a poor wide receiver on his back but instead found himself in a courtroom. He listened to himself pleading a case in front of a jury.

  Jim Bender, former elementary school bully and present lonely burnout, smiled for the first time in days when he saw a perfectly coiffed CEO’s wife defer to his choice of draperies for her beach house.

  Katherine looked around the room for her next volunteer, ignoring the increasingly frantic pleas of the students. What was this? One boy wasn’t paying attention at all. Instead, his face was just three inches away from his notebook, completely immersed in his own world. Katherine glanced at Mr. Hayhurst.

  “Who is that?” she asked as she pointed with her chin in the polite Denarian manner. When Hayhurst didn’t see where she pointed, she remembered that Americans weren’t that polite. She jabbed her finger toward the hunched over figure.

  “Oh. That's Matthew Peters. If you want, I can take his pad away for the rest of the period.”

  “That won't be necessary. Let's let him try this. I want to see what's in the future for, what's the word, an under-achiever?”

  “Matthew Peters?” Matthew looked up from his pad at the unfamiliar voice. “Could you come up here please? I'd like you to test out our Virtual Future device.”

  The class groaned. “Why waste it on him?” demanded a boy from the front of the room.

  Matthew shrugged indifferently, then got out of his desk and walked forward. Katherine wrapped the goggles around his head and activated the controls. “Ready?” she asked. Matthew nodded, and the classroom faded away.

  Matthew was in the air. He looked down and saw his high school fading from sight, swallowed up by clouds. He looked up and saw himself leaving the stratosphere and heading out to the stars. A frantic check of his clothing revealed what he feared. No spacesuit. The Earth faded away in the distance and he flew unprotected through space, but he felt fine. His velocity increased as he broke gravity and shot out into the universe. Where was he going?

  Matthew passed the moon, then Mars, and several seconds later, Jupiter and its moons, then Saturn, Uranus and Neptune. He zoomed by an icy chunk that used to be a planet until Dr. Tyson convinced his fellow astronomers otherwise. Before he knew it, he flew out of the Milky Way galaxy and kept traveling. In spite of his speed and trajectory, he felt completely calm.

  Soon, a new solar system came into view. The planets were uniform in appearance with the exception of the fourth from the sun. This planet had a radiant glow to it, a diamond among coals, and Matthew could feel its pull. His eyes widened as he was pulled into the planet's atmosphere and landed...

  ...in Mr. Hayhurst's homeroom. The Virtual Future goggles had reached their three-minute limit. Matthew thought he heard a tiny, feminine gasp.

  “Is that it?” he asked looking curiously at Katherine.

  Katherine nodded, her face unreadable, and gave Matthew a smile. “Thank you, Matthew.” He was dismissed.

  Matthew slowly took off the goggles. He wanted to ask her what the hell he had just seen, but he couldn't conjure up the right words and she wasn’t exactly receptive. Instead, he placed the goggles into Katherine's outstretched hand and turned to go back to his desk.

  “Mr. Peters, wait a moment.” Katherine spoke so softly that only he and Mr. Hayhurst – who was leaning in to hear her voice – could hear. “I'd like to see you after your last class. I know you have a lot of questions about what you saw, and I'd like to answer them for you.”

  Surprised, Matthew nodded. His made his way back to his seat, his head filled with the images from the goggles. He sat down and rubbed his eyes, wondering. Thomas tapped him on the shoulder. “Well?”

  “Well what?”

  “Well, what'd you see?”

  Matthew didn't answer. What was he supposed to say? That he was going to leave the galaxy – without a rocket or spacesuit? Talk about a trip!

  “I would like to thank our lovely visitor, err, Dr. Sierra, for visiting us and experimenting on us, I mean, allowing us to take part in her experiment today. I hope she’ll return, that is, we hope she’ll come back, I mean…” Mr. Hayhurst’s ramblings were cut off by the bell. Students ambled out of the room, some animated, others lost in thought.

  Mr. Hayhurst walked over to the windows and shut the blinds while Katherine packed up her device. His back still to Katherine, Mr. Hayhurst checked his breath again. “You can do this,” he whispered to his reflection.

  Hayhurst straightened his shoulders. “Dr. Sierra?”

  She cut him off with a smile that would have made his heart leap if it hadn't been racing already. “Please. Call me Katherine.”

  Hayhurst did his best to keep from blushing. “Oh yes... Katherine. Um... I was wondering...” He tried to look her in the eye, but her shades were intimidating. Before he could stammer, he blurted out, “Would-you-care-to-have-a-drink-with-me-after-school-is-out?”

  She cocked her head curiously. “Why, Mr. Hayhurst, are you flirting with me?”

  Mr. Hayhurst forced a smile and commanded his head to nod up and down. His tongue seemed suddenly paralyzed.

  Katherine took one step forward and put a hand on his necktie. Her fragrance invade
d his nostrils and made him woozy. “Thank you, but you're too old for me. However, your request has lightened my day.” She then flashed him a smile that melted his kneecaps, picked up her briefcase, and walked out of his life.

  Melvin Hayhurst fumbled for his chair before he fell. He giddily inhaled her scent on his tie when his next class of students walked in.

  CHAPTER 4

  “What the hell is this?”

  The other post-graduate assistants looked up at the outburst.

  “It's called a body, Teddy,” Carl Morton responded, not bothering to look up from entering data at his computer.

  Melissa Morelli stopped typing and looked up at Theodore. “You've seen it before, Ted.” She looked back at her screen. “Carrying on for Daddy, are we?” she asked in an undertone. Carl stifled his laughter.

  Theodore Richard Smails III turned around to face his fellow assistants. “How many times do I have to tell you? It's 'Theodore.' Not 'Teddy.' Not 'Ted.' 'Theodore!' And besides, in six months, to you it will be 'Dr. Smails.'”

  Carl whispered to Melissa. “Oooh, scary.”

  Dr. Ritgen finished writing some notes on his electronic clipboard and walked over to Theodore. “What do you see, Smails?”

  Theodore straightened his shoulders and pointed to the body inside the chamber. “Well, Sir, yesterday when this body was brought in, there was only a shallow imprint of scales along the right arm. Now, it looks like there are scales covering both arms and they're even starting to show on the upper thighs.”

  Dr. Ritgen walked over to the chamber and crouched down, his nose right up to the glass. His eyes widened and his smile grew wider. “Regeneration,” he said to himself. He then stood up and joyfully threw his arm around Theodore. His voice filled the room. “Do you know what this means?” Theodore turned pink but made no effort to step out of his mentor’s embrace.

  Carl and Melissa looked up. Ritgen shook Theodore. “This means we have a chance to see what this body looks like in its original form! It's being regenerated!”

  Ritgen pushed Theodore away and circled the preservation chamber, caressing the glass like a child getting his first video game system on Christmas morning.

  “This is truly a tremendous scientific breakthrough, and I couldn't be prouder of all of you for your work. I will be taking it upon myself to make sure that you are recognized for everything you have done for me and for this project. This time I won’t forget you in my journal article.” Melissa and Carl exchanged looks.

  Theodore ignored them. “I'll be sure to tell Dr. Sierra about this once she comes in.”

  Ritgen pointed to Theodore. “You do just that, Theodore. Now if you'll all excuse me, I have a press release to complete.” He headed toward the door, mumbling to himself as his eyes lit up with opportunity. “Ladies and gentlemen, allow me to introduce... Ritgen-Man!” The young scientists heard Ritgen’s babbling actually getting louder as he made his way down the hall.

  Once out of earshot, Carl walked over to the chamber. He studied the specimen while Melissa picked up a black piece of paper and folded it into a narrow strip.

  “What’s that in its hand?” asked Carl. Melissa walked over to look.

  “I can’t tell,” she said. “Maybe we should summon…” she held the strip of paper over her eyes, “…Dr. Sierra!"

  “Stop it,” Theodore barked. Carl snorted with laughter.

  Melissa pouted as she lowered the paper. “Something you want to tell me, Teddy Bear?”

  “That's not funny.”

  “You're right,” she answered. “I should have said it with an English accent. Or is it South African? Dutch? I can never tell.”

  “Stop clowning around and act like scientists! How dare you mock Dr. Sierra! At least she is respectful enough to call me THEODORE!”

  Melissa pointed her paper at her snippy colleague. “I’ve got news for you, she barely knows you’re alive, Theodore. The only man she has time for is Ritgen.” Melissa turned to Carl. “So now he has the Ritgen-Man to go along with the Ritgen Sword? What's next, his own brand of cologne in every department store?”

  “It’ll be called Ritgen. You'll smell like you just spent ten days digging at a site in the Negev,” laughed Carl.

  “Stop that! Dr. Ritgen is a brilliant scientist. Without him and Dr. Sierra, we wouldn't be where we are now.”

  “And just where is that, Ted? Working overtime while Madame Cyclops and Doc Napoleon get all the credit?”

  “He just said he’s giving us credit! And she has a name, you know. Dr. Katherine Sierra.”

  “Sounds like you want to be Dr. Theodore Sierra,” Melissa laughed.

  “Totally whipped,” Carl agreed.

  “Do you even realize how much she has you wrapped around her finger? Like she does with every other man here?” Melissa asked.

  Carl cleared his throat. “I'm gay.”

  Melissa corrected herself. “Excuse me. ALMOST every other man here.”

  She tossed the paper strip in the trash and sat back down at her station. “You know, we still don't know the name of the member of the excavation team that actually found the sword a decade ago?”

  “Did it ever occur to you that the team member who found it would rather not have his or her name revealed to the press? Maybe that person is thinking of the good of the entire team and not just himself.”

  Melissa cut him off. “Your nose is way too brown for my tastes, you know that? Ritgen got the credit for the sword because he was in the position to take it. Did it ever occur to YOU that the team in Greenland that discovered this specimen might not be aware of Ritgen about to take credit for it because they're too busy doing their job?”

  “They did amazing work bringing out this body intact,” agreed Carl looking down at it in wonder. He knelt down to get a better look at the scales running up and down the thing’s arms and his colleagues voices faded into the background. Was it his imagination or was the left hand the most life-like? And the thing in the specimen’s hand ... was it beginning to glow?

  * * *

  “Matthew, that was a wonderful performance.” Matthew’s unexpected participation in class brought a giddy tone of voice to Mrs. Webb that lasted throughout the whole class. “I've never heard a student read from Le Morte d'Arthur with that much passion.”

  Matthew shrugged his shoulders as he smiled at her. He couldn’t tell her that at the moment he’d do anything to stop the video loop in his head from the Virtual Future device – even participate. She briefly touched his arm and as he struggled not to turn pink, he wondered for a second if he seemed like as big a dork as Mr. Hayhurst. Mrs. Webb was hot. She always reminded him of a California surfer chick with her short, sun-streaked hair and endless legs.

  “Arthur has always been a favorite of mine.” His voice cracked as he looked down to study the laces on his sneakers so his face wouldn’t betray him.

  Mrs. Webb nodded. “I'm sure it helped you out a lot with your comics. You're still keeping up with them, right?”

  Matthew nodded, his color returning to normal by his excitement. “Oh yeah. In fact, my readership jumped almost overnight to more than 5,000.”

  “Excellent! High five!” Matthew almost jumped back from the offered hand, then recovered with a resounding smack.

  “I'm so glad you stuck with these characters all year.” Mrs. Webb unobtrusively rubbed her hand as she turned back to her desk. Matthew caught the motion and winced.

  “You know, I'm ready to give you the final grade for the year,” she said sitting down.

  Those words immediately filled Matthew with more tension than anticipating his meeting with Dr. Sierra.

  “Oh?” Matthew asked.

  “I'm sure you know that those who get an 85 or higher are exempt from the final exam. I was going to show everyone their grades tomorrow, but since you're here and did so well in class today, I thought I’d give you an early opportunity to see yours.”

  Matthew's eyes widened. “Wow. Thanks.”

>   Mrs. Webb positioned two pieces of paper above and below Matthew's grade and showed him the magic number. Matthew took a deep breath to prepare and looked down at the grade book.

  83.

  Two points short. Matthew knew Mrs. Webb could see the light in his eyes start to dim. He looked up and stared off into space, taking stock in all of the different homework assignments he had half-assed during the year.

  “Hmmm,” she said as he looked back down, hoping upon closer inspection those numbers would transform into something a little bit higher. “You know Matthew, the final exam is really to make sure that my students have a certain range of ability. I know that in spite of this grade, you already mastered the skills I’ve taught in this class.”

  Matthew hung on her words. So?

  “So let's say I'll give you a little bit of,” she paused and bit her lip, “let’s call it... Excelsior Extra Credit.”

  “Excelsior Extra Credit?” Matthew repeated not sure he heard her correctly.

  Mrs. Webb treated him to a brilliant smile. “And it just so happens that Excelsior Extra Credit counts for two points on your final grade.”

  Matthew was saved from the final exam.

  The light in Matthew's eyes returned brighter than ever. “Is this what it feels like to get paid for your work?”

  Mrs. Webb let out a laugh that made Matthew’s stomach feel like jelly. “It is, yes.” She put her hand on Matthew's, and he could feel warmth racing from his cheeks to fill the rest of his body. “A student of your caliber comes along only once in a while, Matthew. It’s not often I have a pupil whose interests go beyond the classroom. I can tell you're going to do wonderful things when you leave this school.”

  Unexpectedly, the Virtual Future images returned with a vengeance.

  “Thanks, Mrs. Webb,” was all he could say. He was torn between basking in the moment and finally getting answers from the strange woman with the shades.

  “You deserve it, Matthew. I believe you can do anything you put your mind to.”

  “Thanks. I’ll remember that.” He slowly pointed to the door. “I’d better go.”