“Look at that one. She’s new.” Colin fancied himself an aficionado of fine wine and women. He spotted the recent hire immediately.
“You have a one track mind, Dr. Bishop.”
Watching the waiter crossing the street, Ethan waited for some response. Sparks opened the door to receive his complimentary cup of coffee then read the napkin it arrived with, plunging his huge thumb high into the air above the hood of the car.
Arrival of their luscious breakfast a welcome sight, Colin plunged into it before Ethan could adjust the napkin laid across his lap. Typical! Resisting an aggressively persistent urge to comment, Ethan chose to hold his tongue, reserving it for another, more useful purpose. Meanwhile, Colin lunged at his plate in attack mode, as if he had not dined in a decade. Gesturing with his fork again, this time a piece of sausage attached to a protruding prong, he was emphatic, disagreeable about his lot in life.
“That one’s been here for years and she never waits on me!”
“I wonder why.” Nothing like his dry sense of humor, Ethan perfected practice of it with Colin, an easy mark to target. “Yes Colin, I see your point. She obviously must be a better server than the bloke who politely brought us a delicious meal in a timely manner. I’m sure she does a better job of it, no doubt, in spite of the constant barrage of courtship invitations she receives from men and, I imagine, some of the women, too. I’m certain it is her primary source of satisfaction every morning.”
Colin stopped chewing his sausage mid-link, staring at Ethan in utter disbelief. “Do you really think she gets hit on by women?”
“Oh yeah Col, of course. You’re so naïve for a worldly sort. Your competition just doubled.” Ethan went back to his water glass, leering over the rim, hiding his smile. Colin stared off into the distance, considering the moment of epiphany as a revelation he could have lived without.
“Bloody hell, P.” He continued gnawing on the thought along with his sausage.
Having finished his much more conservative menu prior to Colin, who was still negotiating with the sausage, Ethan thought it an opportunity to write in his journal, a simple, three-by-five inch black leather bound book. It was his written record of significant moments, appointments and questions to ponder and reflect upon later. As an ardent student, then a professor, he was already fascinated by and dependent upon the written word. “Everything everyone does is history.” It had been the creed instilled in every student of the science of history for eons. As the dawn of Ethan’s journey approached, coming ever closer, so came this thought, how significant the most trivial event can become over time. How one discerns what single occurrence or individual act could do to affect the future when every action has an effect.
Today he would meet with his friend, Anson Van Ruden, facing him along with select members of the FTCOC panel, going over their schedule leading up to the Flicker proposal day of launch. Reaching into his breast pocket, he retrieved the mechanical pencil he so regularly relied upon for most things relating to his classes and those unrelenting report submissions for test trials from The Valley. Seeking the next undisturbed page of white with black lines, he sifted through previous notes and illustrations that once again brought him back to those exact memories, the cause or reason for these entries. Ethan always had a romanticized, old-fashioned fantasy that every soul on the planet had a journal just like his to record every one of life’s experiences as their own personal history book. Alas, Colin didn’t have one. If a form was placed in front of him, he would complete it fully. If Colin had a questionnaire that required attention, he was on it, but asking him to freely record experiences that should be denoted, logged for posterity? Ethan meant to ask him why he’d never kept a journal but Colin was preoccupied at the moment, distracted by two young ladies from Italy at the adjacent table. (They had been hiking Europe.) It was a ridiculous notion to think he would consider doing some writing, unless it was in a specific journal predominantly filled with phone numbers, his little black book of conquests. Ethan wouldn’t be surprised if Colin submitted a second Flicker proposal to have carnal knowledge of Cleopatra and Joan of Arc.
***
Journal Entry ˜ 17 August 2020
This morning my wake-up call was an alarm sounded by Colin pounding on my door with news! Late last evening The Consortium gathered to finalize the approval for my proposal! This was my moment of realization that this was going to happen. All my research, my studies, my perseverance was encapsulated in a single moment of decision making and I didn’t even know it as I filled out forms as it happened.
This morning, I’ll stand before the panel and accept full responsibility with the utmost seriousness, a respect for the power and danger of Flicker. My research is, without a doubt, of paramount consideration. I’ve labored long, sacrificed much to have this privilege of recording, potentially rewriting history from my own unique perspective then, once I return, have it published in every scientific journal known to the civilized world. Yet, overshadowing that notion of recognition and respect is the supreme responsibility to the non-interference directive. I was a fan of Star Trek in my youth. I always wanted to call it the Prime Directive which was a mandatory order of the Federation: no interference allowed to indigenous planetary life while studying them. So it is with the past. This directive is driven into the psyche of every selectee from the inception. I have the utmost confidence that I can commit to this endeavor with no incident of timeline displacement due to any actions on my part. Just finishing breakfast with Colin the Café Conqueror. The time has come to face the respective music.
***
Returning the journal to his coat pocket, Ethan noticed he had Colin’s attention again, as the two ladies were moving on, undoubtedly to conclude their hike across the continent and Colin seemingly always had to talk to someone. Ethan was up.
“Anson will probably be there waiting for you.” Colin suggested, taking another nonchalant sip from his freshly refilled coffee cup. “I’m sure he’ll be there waiting. He represents The Consortium but you’re his favorite, most special project.”
“Well, at least I’ll have one bloke on my side...besides you.”
“Bloody hell, P! What are you worried about? Enjoy the moment! Your project is fucking approved! The event is a GO!” Resorting to his falsetto tone reserved for special occasions, Colin leaned in close to Ethan’s face. “They say it’s a GO, mate!” Leaping to his feet, clearly over stimulated by caffeine, Colin began dancing wildly around him, circling their table. “Good to go! He’s good to go!” Heads turned.
“Have you no shame, my good man?” Peering over the rim of his spectacles, scanning the local vicinity, a few female students walked by giggling as Professor Bishop continued dancing like a lunatic or an extra from the Broadway production of “Fiddler on the Roof”. Ethan smiled awkwardly, humiliated by the shenanigans he could not control. Clearing his throat to make the jester aware of his audience, Colin responded with a post-performance bow toward the gathering crowd. There wasn’t a pair of eyes that did not recognize Dr. Bishop’s animated personality. This was his teaching style, as well.
“Will you please sit down, you clown!” Ethan was embarrassed but never cross.
Obliging the request, Colin reluctantly took his seat, speaking in hushed tones. “It’s only the FTCOC wanting to congratulate you! Sure, they’ll need to look over the project once more but that’s to be expected. They want to cover their own arse! I can see those gears turning in your head. Stop it! You’re worried about nothing.”
“Don’t be such a twit, Colin. There is no need for them to cover anything at all. The test trials and committee procedures did that. They want to pick my brain. They will want to know why, aside from the obvious reasons, of course. Colin, you know the inner workings of Flicker just as well as I do. I can get tossed off right at the moment of the event, at the doorway, the plug pulled for the smallest infraction, the least conflicting issues. I won’t be happy until I pass through the portal. In fact, my comrade, I
will be much happier long before you will ever be born to cheer me on!” Taking a sip from the lip of his cup, Ethan smirked, pouring the rest of the hot brew into the paper cup he’d arrived with, apparently a “to go” cup. Rising from his seat, leaning in to speak privately with his cohort as if preparing to share a secret, Ethan winked, whispering “Pay the tab, mate. Breakfast is on you, including your shirt.”
Taken by his discordant comment, Colin scrambled for his wallet while wolfing down the last of his scrambled eggs, hurriedly swiping the crumbs from his chest. Meanwhile, his companion glanced at his pocket watch then abandoned him at the table, making his way toward the exit. While navigating a narrow passage through the tables, Ethan looked down upon several of the fresh, young faces he knew, some of whom he had tutored over time. Suddenly the tableau transformed in his mind’s eye, something akin to Pink Floyd’s “The Wall” – a bunker scene. As if he were their commanding officer, he found himself surveying the troops in what appeared to be a World War I fortification. Bombs impacting above the cave shook earthen walls, showering dust on everyone huddled together. Walking past his foot soldiers, gazing into the scared faces of young boys, each tipped a salute as he passed. Dirt on their brows, fear in their eyes, he’d been the one chosen to lead them into battle.
Departing the establishment, Ethan bolted across the main street to spend a few minutes with Mr. Sparks. When Colin caught up they decided to pass on a free ride, resuming their trek across campus. It was quite a hike to the Museum of the History of Science. His spirits lifted, Ethan picked up the pace. Colin sprinted from behind to keep up. That man was on a mission. Dr. LaPierre wanted to get on with it. Broad Street was set in his sites. Ethan always took the initiative to arrive for appointments on time, punctual by nature. This morning he intended to be earlier than expected, a sign of respect.
“Ethan, are you having a good laugh at my expense? Ethan! Wait up!”
“I don’t know, Colin.” Ethan stopped in front of the monument erected to honor a man who would still be alive when he passed through the portal. How interesting! As he stood there reading the inscribed dates carved in granite, the thought occurred to him. “I may have to have a chat with your ancestors, try to persuade them not to procreate, make my life easier. Certainly quieter.”
“That’s not funny, P.” Colin remarked, feigning the tone of someone seriously wounded, cut to the core.
“Don’t be offended, mate. It’s on me. My burden to bear. Who knows?” Ethan continued taunting. “I might even fancy a night with your great, great grandmother and become your great, great granddad!”
“Now you’re just being mean, you fucker.” A grin and bear it smile on his face, Colin suggested, “You could marry the Queen then fucker too! Put me in the will!”
“You know something Dr. Bishop, you’re a man of clear conscience and moral fiber, but then, I jest.”
“Not to mention my exceptional intelligence and model good looks.”
“Mmmm, yes, there’s that.” Taking another sip of lukewarm coffee, completing the thought, Ethan remarked, “Not to mention your modesty, such a humble sort!”
Colin paused, poking out his chest like a peacock, strutting his stuff, posturing, proudly displaying his imaginary feathers. Ethan was so very fond of Colin. In fact, he loved the man far more than a friend, more like a brother, the comic relief in the room. Everything Ethan lacked in social skills, Colin possessed in abundance. Yang to his Yin, his oldest and dearest was also his nearest friend, someone to confide in, share with and count on. Trust is everything. Ethan could trust Colin with anything. His companion had been a continual source of encouragement when Ethan became impatient awaiting the fate of his project in the hands of The Consortium. If Colin knew the intricacies of Flicker like Ethan did, he knew, as well, the inner workings of Ethan. It wasn’t like the Cox Paradox but rather, an internal reflection regarding this rare opportunity. Still humbled by the prospect of it, even after all these years invested into the program, it had not sunken into his thick skull. His Flicker project was one of the committee’s favorites and he knew every facet of it, every detail of the history, every nuance of the mystery, the tale left to time itself to solve. He had earned the respect and confidence of his colleagues. It was his baby, right from the point of conception. They could almost hear it wailing from across campus when it took its first breaths, demanding to be acknowledged, begging for attention. Ethan was about to receive copious amounts of attention for his efforts. Approaching the museum, he chastised the naughty circus performer prancing beside him.
“Straighten up and fly right!” Ethan warned Colin to behave in the company of The Consortium panel, thereby having one less thing to worry about.
Truth be told, there was no way he could have mustered the patience to see this through, especially during those early stages, had it not been for Colin, there to help him keep a level head and some semblance of brevity in light of such pressure and responsibility. On certain long nights at his flat, having spent countless hours in the big leather chair at his desk, Colin would appear at the door like a cavalier of sanity to rescue him just prior to his leap off the edge of reason. Off they’d go for a walk or a stiff drink at some unsavory pub where Ethan could unscramble his brain and decompress. Colin was an anchor for Ethan, his first and best mate long before the Flicker proposal originated and he would be evermore. Cognizant of his faults and frailties regarding his social skills or lack thereof, Ethan felt comfortable, far more uninhibited in the presence of his friend. Although he was a well-spoken, brilliant individual, in a social scheme he often portrayed the wallflower. He could speak to anyone about anything, but basic human interaction of frivolous banter was never part of his répertoire. It did not come naturally to him and Colin never allowed him to be placed in an awkward position, always watchful, ever mindful of Ethan’s shy demeanor. He was a pensive, insightful man, the strong, silent type depicted in old films as the leading man. Colin admired these attributes, protecting him at all cost.
The two turned west on High Street towards the University Church of the Virgin St. Mary. Oxford is so much more than just an educational institution. Dating back to the 12th Century, it has had the distinguished history of having some of the most influential people around the world walk its halls, receiving a variety of degrees in many fields of study. In some respects, Oxford University was a popular destination for tourists, especially those who were fans. From Lewis Carroll to Harry Potter, it was a way to feel a connection to their heroes. High Street was a main thoroughfare, a passageway to class for the students, staff and visitors. Although in modern times its sidewalks were paved, the asphalt and design of High Street was modernized so to accommodate the constant barrage of buses, cars and endless bicycles parading between majestic, truly historic structures, some dating back to the middle 1500’s. Overwhelming stone architecture lined the streets, as if telling the story of ages and wisdom encompassing the roads and walls. No one traveling its streets could remain unaware of Oxford’s significance. Ethan was still in awe of its ancestral echo.
Turning right onto Catte Street heading north along a side road, Colin began to feel the effects of the large morning meal he had just ingested back at the café. Out came his trusty smoking pipe, a perfect addition to any overindulgence, punctuating the proclivity. Stopping for a moment to light up, Ethan hadn’t noticed his absence, moving onward toward his well-defined goal with single-minded purpose. It was a veritable quick step. Colin’s turn to pick up the pace, smoke trailing behind him, as he huffed and puffed his way back, catching up with Ethan as they passed Radcliffe Square, he reached out, placing his free hand on Ethan’s shoulder. He’d had an idea he felt compelled to share.
“P, tell me, when you’re horribly rich and famous, doing the lecture circuit, you WILL remember the little people you left behind, won’t you?”
“How could I forget, Col? I’ll need to collect at least two thousand pounds for all the breakfasts I’ve bought for you at the café.
”
“I picked up the tab this morning!”
“Wow! One whole day in a row! And only because I told you to get the check!” Well of course Ethan was only teasing but Colin took it to heart.
“You keeping track, mate?” Colin inquired nervously, suddenly concerned by the comment, hoping he hadn’t been perceived as taking advantage of a friend.
“I’m making tracks! YOU might try to keep track of me, if you can!” Ethan’s long legs stretched out like the neck of a giraffe, his stride widening with each step, he left Colin behind in a matter of milliseconds. Checking his pocket watch again, a slave to time, it was not a matter of being late as much as a force of habit. Getting ahead of it was his objective, dispelling concerns that something or someone would impede his progress. Ethan sprinted away from every delay.
In A Flicker Page 9