Hadrian's Wall

by Felicia Jensen

  He glanced at the goblet and pursed his lips. I could see that my answer did not satisfy him.

  “Even if this predator did not have the option kill, but rather just lost his mind? Could you forgive him?” He shifted in his chair.

  Undecided, I narrowed my eyes. Because of the way he was staring at me, I felt that my response was crucial to something, so I stopped joking and tried to be as sincere as possible.

  “If he’d lost his mind, he would not be completely guilty. The question remains whether he would kill again. How can you trust someone who cannot control himself? But if he makes a genuine effort, his actions will determine if he deserves a second chance.”

  Adrian remained silent and thoughtful for some time. I felt that my words had impressed him deeply.

  “I think he would have to make sure that it doesn’t happen again,” I said, feeling the need to explain. He nodded.

  Minutes later when I was looking for the right words to break the uncomfortable silence that had settled between us, he resumed control of the situation.

  “You would not have accepted a jewel as a birthday gift, right?” he wondered aloud, his tone of voice light.

  Of course not! But I limited myself to shaking my head. My ironic smile must have said it all.

  “I thought so....” He smiled too. “I know how you love movies, so I opened an account for you at the video rental store in town. You have six months to feast on their collection. You can take as many movies as you want at any time. There are no limits. If there are any movies that you want to watch but they don’t have them in stock, the staff will help you obtain them, as much as possible.”

  I was speechless.

  “No doubt, this is a tempting gift...and in my case, much harder to refuse than the jewel.”

  “That’s what I thought too.”

  “You think of everything, don’t you?”

  “Everything. Always.”

  I looked at the other box. Inside was a simple, black calculator. The only striking thing about it were the initials HW etched in elegant red calligraphy. Then I realized that it was anything but simple. Opening it, I found a tiny screen, four times the size of a mobile phone screen. I could see that it was multifunctional because there were several little buttons. A notepad was attached to it by means of a rubber band. It contained information about the standardized test for admission to college, the email address of the entity administering the test, and related sites.

  I showed him the notebook and asked, “What is this?”

  He looked at me cautiously, as if unsure what reaction could expect from me.

  “Well, for starters, this is a PDA.”

  “PDA?”

  “A Personal Digital Assistant. It’s for you to organize your appointments...and there will be many since you seem determined to set some personal goals. It has several functions: video games, camera, television, radio, laptop, GPS, mobile phone...”

  I raised my eyebrows.

  “That’s it? You didn’t forget anything?” I asked sarcastically.

  “Oh, yes! I almost forgot! It can be used as a flashlight, too!” Adrian resumed his calm demeanor. “Seriously, it has many functions. You can download anything you want from the Internet, you can use it to draw your sketches before beginning a work of art...

  “It converts phone calls into holographic transmissions. Very simply, the phone, which is transmitting the call or sending a message to you, has the ‘camera function.’ Its ‘safe mode’ invades the gate access via Internet and all existing firewalls, capturing the image of who is the other side, even if he or she tries to remain anonymous.”

  “Agent 007 would love this type of device...” I said, joking.

  He gave a wry smile.

  “We say, ‘the Secret Service’ appreciates these little toys.”

  My smile faded.

  “This PDA has a tracker, speakerphone, blu-ray, if you want to burn and to interact with your favorite movies. If you want to edit the scene of a movie that matches your mood on a particular day, you can paste it directly into the virtual page of your diary...like a blog in motion.” His smile widened. “It was developed especially for you.”

  The schedule has been personalized especially for me? I cannot believe it!

  “I won’t know how to use it!” I looked at it with horror because it was too “SciFi” for my tastes. I wish you could see your face now.” He laughed. “You look like someone holding a dead, stinking, bloody animal.”

  I frowned at that idea.

  “Don’t worry,” he said after he managed stop to laughing. “You’ll have all the assistance you need. Someone will help you...”

  “Someone?”

  “Yes, you’ll meet him today, later this afternoon.”

  “Who?”

  “You’ll meet him later today,” he repeated as one speaking to a small child. He withdrew the PDA from my hand. “One more thing, this works with solar battery, but not just any battery.”

  No, of course not just any battery!

  “You just need to leave it in the sun, with the cap open, for one hour once every thirty days... or whenever you feel like it. It recharges quickly. If any anomalies occur... if there’s no sunny days during one whole month, which is unlikely, you can install a rechargeable smart battery in the PDA and connect it to any computer that’s turned on and connected to the electrical grid. The spare battery and other accessories will be delivered to you today by the person that I mentioned.

  “Ah, yes... the person you mentioned...today...accessories,” I repeated, sardonically.

  “Patience is a virtue,” he reminded me with a sneer.

  I looked at him suspiciously. “I’ve heard that before...in which movie?”

  He pointed his finger at me. “Gotcha!”

  I narrowed my eyes. “You’ve been doing your homework, eh?”

  I had never seen him so relaxed. That Adrian was more dangerous for my poor, erratic heart than the dour medical resident.

  “Of course!” he confessed without shame. “A hint for you—it’s from an adventure movie...”

  Now it was a matter of honor for me remember the name of the movie and he knew it. His eyes were sparkling, full of challenge.

  “Give me one more hint!” I begged.

  He shook his head, giving me an arrogant look.

  “No. But ask me again tomorrow. If you haven’t already found the answer, then maybe I’ll tell you.”

  I ate more cake.

  “It seems that Christian came into your school data and...” He changed the subject abruptly.

  “Hold on! How did he do that?” I asked, forgetting that my mouth was full.

  “If you’ll let me finish.” He gave me a look of annoyance, with raised eyebrows.

  “Okay, I won’t interrupt you anymore, but I want a very good explanation!”

  This time he narrowed his eyes. “Yes, ma’am. Otherwise, heads will roll!” he said, saluting.

  “Harvest of Macha...” I suddenly remembered, not realizing that I had spoken aloud.

  But instead of laughing, he got serious. His eyes darkened. “Where did you hear about it?”

  “Celtic Mythology,” I explained, confused by his reaction. “Dr. Barringer thought it was important for me to unravel the origins of my imaginary winged monster.”

  He nodded, but did not actually seem to agree.

  “So...where’s my explanation?” I demanded, more to break the uncomfortable silence than to push him.

  Although he was still bored, he began to explain that his cousin procured my past performance tests and imprinted some simulations for me to study. As Christian was expert in handling computers systems—and I don’t want to imagine what that meant - he updated my data and submitted my application. Here it was...I could re-take my test very soon.

  Of course, I’d still have to prepare a portfolio and complete the application for admission and submit both to the College’s Council. This is the kick-start the process,
according to Adrian.

  He informed me that I had an interview with the counselor and the departmental adviser, scheduled for next Monday. It was all saved in my futuristic PDA! I just needed to check it. But that would be possible only when the mysterious instructor or instructress came to explain to me how it worked.

  Suddenly I felt the goose bumps. What am I doing? The unshakable certainty that had accompanied me since I woke up this morning was suddenly overturned by another certainty. It was not madness that I most feared. It was failure. I was afraid of turning out like those people whose life went wrong from beginning to end, who had failed the moment they were born because of the type of family into which they’d been born...then failed romantic relationships, and ultimately failure to achieve their dreams...and that was the saddest thing of all that could happen to anyone.

  I no longer wanted to be that kind of person whose mother was disgusted with me; that kind of person who is humiliated by colleagues, who have talent and ideas that are often neglected and forgotten, but whose errors are always remembered by everybody. I don’t wanna be that kind of person whose name appears in the newspaper headlines when in a ‘Falling Down’ day, he or she decides to go on a rampage and shoots a machine gun at everyone in a schoolyard or at a church door, or inside an office.

  Can someone living in the midst of the failure, reverse the score? Or, in the end, they just get pushed down again?

  “You know, Adrian, I don’t know what you expect from me, but my grades were bad. Just to give you an idea, after the national test, my math teacher said that fortunately I was part of a minority in the state statistics.” I swallowed hard. It wasn’t easy for me to reveal my insecurities and my failures, especially to someone perfect like him, who has everything in the world.

  He seemed more affected by my tone of voice than the comment itself.

  “Something bad said by an educator to his pupil. I hope you didn’t believe him.”

  I shrugged. I didn’t want to tell Adrian about all the things that have happened since I lived in Dailey’s Crossing. He might think I was putting on the “poor little girl” act. Nor did I wish to remind myself of the derogatory comments that adults said about me. At that time I was scared that they’d send me to one of those schools for children with mental health problems or a sanatorium. One possibility that seemed increasingly majeure, insofar as I was reaching the adolescence ... For this reason, I hid my crises, even it cost me a social and school life. Perhaps my cowardly attitude was not the right option, although it was more comfortable to me. When was it that I started to believe what they said about me?

  I disguised the pain with a smile.

  “My teacher thought that I’d already accomplished a lot only because I hadn’t failed the exams. Due to my psychiatric history, the orphanage staff and the school didn’t believe that I would be able to achieve much beyond that. To be honest, I thought they were right...until now.”

  “Do you have any idea how smart you are, Melissa?” He pressed my hand. Our touch unleashed an enjoyable and anticipated electricity. “Your intelligence is well above others your age and I’m not kidding!” Correctly interpreting my expression of disbelief, he added, “Believe it! There’s nothing wrong with you.”

  “How is there not? I gave him a smirk. “What about my hallucinations?

  He pursed his lips and breathed hard. I expected him to say something, but at the last second, I think he changed his mind. His stormy eyes were fixed on the tablecloth. He didn’t look at me for a long minute and then he said, “You know with a word I can...”

  “No!” I knew what he was going to say. “I want to go through all the steps required so I’ll know that I’m not a failure.”

  “But with your talent...”

  “No.”

  He shook his head and gave me a rueful smile. “So get ready to study a lot. Your deadlines will be tight.”

  Suddenly I remembered a “little big” detail.

  “Oh!”

  “What?”

  “My first test was taken in Berlin. The testing center is based in the school there. I’ll have to go back and...”

  He shook his head. “Christian submitted your application with the new address. You will take the test here. The Pine Tree is also accredited to give the tests.”

  This Christian was supposed to be a computer genius. I was suspicious because this super-PDA was his creation? Here’s a guy I would like to know. The more I heard about his exploits, the more curious I became.

  Wait! Adrian had said “new address.” “What is my new address?”

  “The educational system I am about to enter knows where I’m supposed to be living, but I don’t.”

  Adrian did not flinch or even raise an eyebrow. His face remained as inscrutable as the death mask of Pharaoh Tutankhamen.

  Oh! Fiddlededee!

  He seemed to already be accustomed to my defensive acidity. Sudden the corners of his mouth turned up slightly like someone who’s trying hard not to smile.

  “Patience is a virtue.” he said.

  Ugh!

  * * *

  Patience is a virtue.

  Returning to the present... I still smile to myself, thinking about the way he conducted the whole situation over lunch. I had to acknowledge that Adrian was a good strategist. All I had sworn to refuse, I ended up accepting without the slightest chance to escape. His net was quite subtle...visible, but subtle. You see that you’re been entangled, but there’s nothing you can do about it.

  I had no idea where Adrian was taking me. I looked around me, trying to pay attention to the streets we followed and the turns we made. me. My first guess was that we were going to the mansion on the Panthers Cliff, but now I wasn’t sure of anything. Perhaps I’d finally get to see his home?

  He fiddled with the stereo buttons and soft music filled the car.

  “Earth to Melissa,” he said.

  I looked at his strong, capable, well-trained hands. They held the steering wheel gently.

  “I still cannot believe you celebrated my birthday.”

  “I didn’t. You celebrated,” he laughed.

  “You know what I meant!”

  Adrian didn’t answer. He just sat there, laughing, as if it was the funniest moment of his life.

  “I must be a clown. You didn’t smile as much before, right?”

  Although I couldn’t see his expression because of the sunglasses, I could swear that his eyes were mocking me.

  “Very simply, Melissa...you make me happy and long ago I didn’t feel happy,” he said without trace of mockery in his voice.

  I looked down, blushing with pleasure.

  “Speechless?” he asked with false astonishment. “Wow! It must be a first for you!”

  I laughed quietly.

  I felt the car slowing down. Adrian pulled into an area I’d not seen before and parked the car. From there I could see the outlines of distant hills sheltering the university. The street insinuated itself among old houses, townhouses, and small buildings − some brown brick, some stone—neatly aligned in a manner identical to the upper part of Hadrian’s Wall. The few differences I observed were the width of sidewalks − a little larger than the upper town.

  I recognized the same bronze lampposts, which seemed to be a hallmark of the town. They were distributed through the streets over two types of support: those directly on the top of long poles and mounted vertically on the sidewalk and those bolted to the walls of buildings between the arches, formed by their junction and supported by shorter horizontal poles. In this case, the lampposts would illuminate the picturesque outdoor staircase.

  The stairs connected long galleries nestled among the small buildings. The countless number of galleries, stairways, and buildings formed a surreal maze. If I were a less romantic girl, I would say that this was the ideal place for a Jack the Ripper-style ambush.

  When looking distractedly to the other side, I recognized the name McPherson House. It was a shock to confront th
e materialization of a ghost...the ghost of Christmas past. All jokes aside, I felt something disturbing when confronting the original vision of that façade—knowing it was immortalized by the striking virtual projection I had witnessed in the museum. It was unbelievable that the old house was still in such good condition—a true survivor of a dead past. Did it still belong to the same family?

  I got a fright when Adrian shut the driver’s door. He walked around the vehicle and opened my door. I cast a worried glance at the cobblestones. Even though I was wearing my CR tennis shoes—my new abbreviation for “comfortable and reliable” I knew I’d have to walk slowly and cautiously. He locked the doors with the remote control while I waited at the curb.

  “Wow! That’s an Alfa Romeo!” someone said softly, but loud enough to be heard.

  “It’s the 8C,” replied the voice of a girl.

  “8 C?”

  “Yeah, the model−Competizione,” she said impatiently.

  I spun on my heels looking for the source of the voices. I glimpsed some shadows spying on us through the bushes.

  “Guys! That’s not...Adrian Cahill, is it? Yes, it’s him! When they told me he was coming here today, I couldn’t believe it!”

  “It’s him, Sally.”

  “Sure that’s him! I knew that he was coming before the rest of you. For real!” boasted one of the girls; however, she didn’t provide further explanation when the group became agitated with her.

  “Finally I’ll get to see him! Up close! Noooow! A euphoric girl whooped each word, joining in the shrieking of her two female friends.

  I looked at Adrian that who stopped beside me. The corners of his lips were slightly curved upward, though the effort to contain his laughter was difficult. I’d bet that he’d heard every word they said.

  The whispers continued, but he pretended not to notice until the description about him became so enthusiastic and absurd that he let out a short laugh. Abruptly, an authoritative female voice rose above the others and the fuss ceased.

  “You really impress people,” I mumbled.

  Wisely, he did not respond. Still smiling, he led me through the entrance gate. We’d gone beyond an arch decorated with plants which divided the garden from the house and sidewalk. Once we were beyond the garden, there was no one else around. The shadows and whispers seemed to have vanished into thin air, leaving only peaceful birdsong.