by KB Shaw
“And I’m Cameron Rush.” He shook the large hand. For the first time, he was able to take in Gustav’s appearance. He was a big man, maybe 6’3” or 6’4” and powerfully built. His longish blond hair showed definite signs of thinning on top. He had a jolly smile.
“Please, take a seat.” Gustav turned toward a waiter who had watched the whole affair from a window at the far end of the café. “A second cup, please, Maurice.” He seated himself and said, “Rush? Are you from Scotland then?”
“The United States, actually.”
Gustav’s face brightened even more. “Ah, the United States of America! I, myself, am from Scandinavia, but I have relatives in the United States. They are medical doctors, as I myself hope to be. They live in Wisconsin — a city on the Mississippi River, called La Crosse. Do you know it?”
Cameron shook his head. “I’m afraid I’ve never heard of it,” he lied. He didn’t know anything about La Crosse back in the eighteen hundreds. It was better to claim total ignorance than to be eliminated from the game because of a dumb mistake.
“Of course not! Les États-Unis—the United States—is a large country. How foolish of me!”
“Not at all.”
Maurice arrived with the second cup and filled it for Cameron. “Drink,” said Gustav, “Warm your insides.” He slid the tray of bread toward Cameron. “And put something in your stomach.”
Cameron had noticed the well-worn nature of Gustav’s clothing. He was sure that Gustav had very little money, and Cameron found himself feeling bad about taking any of Gustave’s food. He had to remind himself that it was all just a simulation. There was no need to feel bad. He also knew that refusing to share these meager offerings would be impolite.
“Perhaps a bite, thanks.” The warm bread with the soft, mellow cheese was wonderful, and the coffee was strong but invigorating. IHT food had improved immensely over the past few months.
“So, what are you doing in Paris, Mr. Rush?”
“Please, call me Cameron.”
“Only if you call me Gustav.”
“Agreed,” said Cameron with a broad smile. He really liked this affable hulk of a man. “What am I doing here?” He thought a second, then continued cautiously, “I’m trying to find a friend. I’m to meet her at the room of one of your fellow students, Marya Sklodovska. You wouldn’t happen to know where she lives, would you?”
The gentle giant laughed a deep laugh. “Now I don’t feel so bad for thinking you would know La Crosse. There are more than 12,000 students here at the Sorbonne, Cameron. I’m sorry to say I cannot help you.”
The expression on Gustav’s face turned from merriment to thoughtfulness. “But wait, Sklodovska? That’s Polish, is it not?” Cameron nodded. “I don’t know this Marya Sklodovska, but I may be able to help. Let us eat and drink a while longer, then I will take you to a place where you might be able to locate this woman.”
A half-hour later, the two were braving the elements as Gustav led Cameron away from the Sorbonne. “Very few people are around. Christmas is Sunday, you know,” he said through the woolen scarf wrapped around his face. Spurts of steam erupted from the scarf as Gustav spoke. “But I know a place on the next street that is a favorite of the Polish students. Perhaps your Mademoiselle Sklodovska is there. If not,” he said with a shrug of his shoulders, “who knows? Maybe someone knows where she lives.”
The bitter weather chilled Cameron to the bone. He started to shiver. “It is cold, is it not?” asked the big Scandinavian medical student. “But don’t worry, my friend, the café is just around the corner.”
It seemed an eternity before they opened the door to Café Tatry. The blast of warm air that greeted them felt as if a furnace door had been opened. The coffee house was small. Eight or nine tables crowded the available floor space. The room was warmed by a tall, tile-covered stove in the center of the café.
• • •
A GROUP of three young men and two women sat at one table, laughing and talking loudly in a language Cameron took as Polish. Away from the others, at another table, sat a solitary young man, buried in his studies.
Immediately, Gustav unwrapped his scarf and opened his coat. “Unbutton your coat, Cameron, and let the warm air of this fine establishment circulate about you.”
Cameron thanked Gustav and did as he suggested, peeking at his IHT quickly. It was now 10:45. He had to reach Marie Curie’s garret by noon.
Without hesitation, the gregarious student approached the table of young men and women. “Hello, my name is Gustav,” he said in French. “My friend here,” he motioned Cameron to follow, “has come all the way from the United States of America to see a young woman. He is to meet her at the room of Mademoiselle Marya Sklodovska…”
Gustav left his sentence open-ended, hoping one of the young women might answer, “I am she,” but the hoped-for reply was not forthcoming. Gustav continued, “…perhaps one of you knows her and can direct us to her lodging?”
There was only silence as the five young people looked at each other. They then began to talk amongst themselves. Finally, one of the women said with a shrug, “We are sorry, but we do not know of this Marya Sklodovska.”
“Perhaps I can help,” came a voice from behind them. It was the young man buried in his books.
Gustav thanked the young people for their help before he and Cameron crossed the room to see the young man. The papers spread on his table were covered with complex mathematical equations.
“Gustav Gundersen.”
“And I’m Cameron Rush.”
The young man rose and gave a short bow of the head and shoulders as he spoke, “Josef Bronka.”
“Mathematics student, I see,” said Cameron.
“Physics, actually, but mathematics is our universal language. It is the key to unlocking the secrets of the universe. Someday, knowledge of physics will allow man to put artificial moons in orbits around our planet, and set foot on the moon, and even travel to the distant… Ah! Listen to me ramble! I am sorry to impose my ideas upon unsuspecting strangers.”
Cameron smiled and said, “You didn’t impose. And, I must admit that I agree. Man will go to the moon and beyond! You must believe it, too.”
Josef looked at Cameron in wonder. “You speak with such certainty—with even more conviction than I myself. It is as if you have seen this with your own eyes, not just as possibilities raised by equations and charts scrawled across some piece of paper.”
“No one can see the future, Mr. Bronka,” Cameron said, hastily covering his indiscretion. “But anyone can believe in it. Now, with fear of being rude, may I ask if you know Marya Sklodovska’s address? I’m afraid that I must be there by noon today, and it is now nearly eleven.”
“Yes, of course. She was a fellow student of physics. Because she is a woman, you know, the Russians who rule our homeland would not allow her an advanced education. She was mostly self-taught and attended classes like the rest of us at the Floating University.”
A puzzled look clouded Gustav’s normally jolly face. “What is this ‘Floating University’? You studied on a boat?”
“No, no, I am sorry. It loses something in the translation. How can I explain?” He stroked his chin as he searched for the words. “By ‘floating’ I mean that it moved from place to place, you see? One day it might be in someone’s barn and the next in an attic of some shop or the storeroom of a factory. The Russians do not want us Poles to be too educated. If they found we were having classes and exchanging knowledge, we would be in trouble.”
Gustav looked concerned. “I was unaware of such a thing as this. It is a crime!”
“It is a way of life,” said Josef. “Only education will lift us from our oppression. And how can you have education without communication? Without the free flow of ideas?
“Ah, there I go again! I do ramble so. About Marya then, when she first came here to study physics, she was so far behind and her French was so poor … almost anyone else would have given up. But she is
an amazing woman. Not only did she catch up in her education, she graduated first in her class at the Sorbonne!
Now she is working on a second degree, this one in mathematics. And I believe she will be close to the head of her class again.” He sat back down at his table, jotted something on a scrap of paper, and handed it to Cameron. “That is where she lives. It is only a 10, maybe 15, minute walk from here.”
Cameron glanced at the note and handed it to Gustav. “Could I impose on you to guide me to this address, Gustav?”
“I was about to ask if you would mind if I came with you. I would very much like to meet this amazing woman.”
“That’s great,” said Cameron. He extended his hand to Josef. “I really appreciate your help, Mr. Bronka. Thanks again.”
In turn, Gustav offered his hand. “Josef, we must talk further about your country. We are all students of the same world, are we not? We must talk to each other—get to know each other—before we can live as one people. May I stop by again sometime?”
“I would be honored,” said Josef Bronka.
Gustav gave Cameron a slap on the back. “It is time to button back up, my friend. We have a good walk ahead of us.”
Chapter 34:
The Cold Garret
“IS IT MUCH FARTHER?” Cameron glanced at his IHT—it was seven minutes before noon.
The young men walked briskly down the cold, windswept rue, or street. “Not much farther at all, my friend.” Gustav lifted his hand and pointed toward a building about 100 meters away. “That is the building in which Marya Sklodovska lives.”
Cameron couldn’t wait to enter the warm structure. He was chilled clear through to the bone. His fingers were almost numb. He checked the street carefully before he and Gustav crossed to the other side. At least the sleet had stopped so he could see clearly down the street in both directions.
As Gustav led the way up the steps and into the main entrance of the tall building, Cameron prepared himself for the welcome blast of warm air as they opened the door. He was sorely disappointed when he found there was no rush of heat to greet him. In fact, the inside of the building was only slightly less cold than outside. Well, he told himself, at least there’s no wind to penetrate my layers of clothing.
They walked down a short hall to a central stairwell, and Gustav looked up the shaft through balcony railings and stairs. “Your body will warm itself now, Monsieur Rush. We must climb six flights to reach Mademoiselle Sklodovska’s garret!”
The building was filled with the smells and sounds of many different cultures. Paris, and particularly the Latin Quarter, was home to people from the far corners of the world. Cameron could hear the cries of babies, the unique music of a balalaika, the familiar smell of pasta sauce, and the pungent aroma of sauerkraut.
Upwards they climbed. Cameron followed Gustav’s example, unbuttoning his coat to prevent overheating and sweating. He knew that if he perspired under his clothes as he was climbing, the trapped moisture would make him even colder once he stopped exerting himself.
It was almost noon when they finally stood before the door to Marya Sklodovska’s room. From his pocket, Cameron pulled out the note Dr. Conan Doyle had given him. He checked it again to assure himself he was where and when he was supposed to be. He had done it! He had reached the garret of Marie Curie by noon on the winter solstice of 1893, as specified by Rosa Costas.
Cameron knocked firmly. “One moment, please,” came a woman’s voice. The two men heard a clunk as a piece of furniture fell over inside the room. The woman called out again, this time in an apologetic tone, “One moment, please!” In a few seconds, the door opened wide enough to reveal a young woman whose features were all but hidden by layer upon layer of clothing. “Yes, may I help you?”
“Are you Marya Sklodovska?” asked Gustav.
“I am she.”
“My name is Gustav, and this is my friend Cameron…”
Marya’s eyes widened in surprise, as she completed his sentence “…Rush. Mr. Cameron Rush!” She opened the door wider, inviting them in, “Yes. Your friend, Mademoiselle Costas, and I were expecting you yesterday. We had a nice visit…”
Cameron was stunned. “Yesterday? But she said noon on the winter solstice!”
Gustav didn’t know whether to laugh or feel badly for Cameron. “I fear you have made a mistake of some sort, Cameron. Yesterday, December the twenty-first, was the winter solstice. You are, indeed, a day late.”
What had gone wrong? Cameron was sure the multiCom had told him the solstice was on December 22nd. Yes, he was positive. It said December 22… of what year? He hadn’t told it what year, so the multiCom would have used the current year in its internal clock—the year from which Cameron had come, not the year to which he was going! Again, he had not been thorough. Now that he gave it more thought, he remembered that the winter solstice fell either on the 21st or the 22nd of December. He was crestfallen.
“I would offer you a glass of water,” said Marie as she walked over to the bed and righted a chair that had tipped over, “but I’m afraid it is frozen solid.”
Cameron forgot his small problem when he looked about him. The garret was spacious, with bare wood floors, and a large window that must have let in beautiful sunlight in the spring and summer. But now it only let in the bitter cold, even though a threadbare carpet, which must usually have lain upon the floor, was tacked up over it in a futile attempt to keep the chill out.
“Please forgive my appearance, but my shoes fell apart, and I had no money for a new pair. You can’t go barefoot in Paris in December, so I had to choose between food or warmth this month.”
She tried to straighten the mess on her bed. “It was so cold last night that I had to put on every piece of clothing I could. I was still not warm, so I piled the rest of my clothes over me in the bed, then dragged the chair up onto the bed and laid it across me. At least this incredible pile gave me the illusion of warmth!”
She laughed and Gustav shared in her laughter as only one who knew such poverty could. They laughed at their harsh life. They didn’t complain and they weren’t bitter.
Cameron had never known hardship like this. For the first time in his life, he realized how protected, how safe, his life was. He was experiencing more of what it meant to be alive through this simulation than he ever had in his own life.
He thought of the greatness that this half-frozen young woman would achieve in her lifetime in spite of, or perhaps because of, all the hardship she endured. Could he do great things without experiencing life? And what of that bear of a man, Gustav Gundersen? Did he show up in the history books? Was he based on a real person of the time? If he was, how many lives had been touched, or even saved, by those strong hands when he became a doctor? Perhaps it was the harshness of their lives that made these individuals strong.
Cameron fished deep into his pants pocket. The IHT always provided a small amount of the proper money that might be needed during an adventure. Cameron pulled out a few bills of paper money called francs, then turned to Gustav. “I don’t know much about French money,” he said. “Would this be enough to help buy some coal for Mademoiselle Sklodovska?”
Gustav smiled broadly as he took the money and counted it. “This would buy enough for a few weeks.”
“Good. When we’re finished here, would you do me the favor of arranging for the coal to be delivered?”
“No, I cannot accept this,” said the young lady.
Cameron insisted, and Gustav promised that Marya would have coal by nightfall.
Cameron showed his friend the remaining francs. “And tell me, Gustav, do I have enough money left to buy us all a good hot meal?”
“You have enough to buy us all a very good hot meal.” Gustav grinned. “And, if you will allow me, I can suggest an exquisite little Italian restaurant—you do like Italian food, Mademoiselle?”
Marya nodded.
“Then it’s settled,” said Cameron, “We’ll go have some dinner. Then you can tell me a
bout Rosa.”
Gustav asked Marya if she knew where the restaurant was that he had suggested. She assured him that she did, so he excused himself to go buy the coal. He assured Cameron he would meet them at the restaurant.
By the time Marya had gotten ready to go, the sky had cleared and the low light of the winter sun glistened off the icy pavement. “Now that the clouds are gone, tonight will be even colder than last. I thank you for your kindness. The coal will be a godsend.”
The three young people had an enjoyable meal and discussed many things over the next two hours. Marya was interested in medicine also, and Gustav could not find out enough about life in Poland.
Cameron and Gustav learned that Marya’s father was a teacher and her mother had been a musician who ran a respected private school. Marya had returned to Warsaw after receiving her degree in physics, then was awarded a Polish national scholarship to come back and study chemistry at the Sorbonne. She planned to go back to Poland and teach like her father, although she confessed that she really preferred laboratory research. She had recently read a fascinating paper by a young scientist named Pierre Curie. “Perhaps I can do some research back home. Only, the equipment there is so very crude compared to what we have here!”
Cameron would have loved to tell her what she would accomplish in her life, but he knew he could not. Instead, he turned the conversation back to Rosa. “It’s too bad I missed her. Did she leave a message of some kind or tell you where she was off to?”
“She only said that she was going to spend Sunday afternoon on the island of La Grande Jatte with a man by the name of Georges.”
Gustav looked puzzled. “Seurat, the painter?”
Marya shrugged. “I do not know. She did not say.”
“Why do you ask?” asked Cameron.
Gustav looked him in the eye. “Because George Seurat, the man who painted Sunday Afternoon on the Island of La Grand Jatte, died two years ago!”
Chapter 35: