John Gone (7 page)

“This is great,” John began, losing volume as
he spoke. A weakness was washing over him. It was almost time. He
backed up and sat on the couch before his condition forced it.

“John!” Ronika yelled. “Is this it? Is it
happening?”

“Put Mouse in my messenger bag so I don’t
drop it. Get in your feathery blanket thing,” he said as calmly as
possible, quickly losing the strength of his voice.

Ronika quickly followed his instructions.
After securing Mouse, she curled tightly into her ball of fluff on
the couch and watched in wonder at John’s arm as it began to spasm
wildly.

“Amazing,” she whispered.

John groaned and tried to steady his arm.

“John,” Ronika said quietly, leaning into
him, “would you be angry if I told you I was excited?”

John disappeared.

With each left step, Felix absently dragged
the bottom of his foot across the floor as he made his way toward
room B13. The friction of his sole against the freshly polished
tile caused a choppy vibration that hummed down the corridor
between his footsteps. The noise was a welcome one and, for him,
oddly calming. He’d never liked the quiet, and certainly wasn’t
likely to find much else down the long, lonely halls of Harvard
University during this time of night.

He took a moment to look down at the
partially cracked face of his wristwatch. In three minutes it would
be precisely one thirty in the morning, which meant that come three
minutes from now, he will have missed the entire class he was
supposed to be arriving at one hour and fifty-seven minutes ago. He
wasn’t particularly sure why he was still on his way to the
soon-to-be-empty classroom after its dismissal, but assumed that
he’d figure it out by the time he arrived.

Felix heard the professor speaking in his
head:
What’s the point of participating in the program if you
refuse to apply yourself and take part in our discussion?
It
was the same tired objurgation he’d heard many times before. He
could recite it backward by now and decided to do so in his head as
he walked farther down the way.

A foreign noise echoed from the stretch of
corridor ahead of him, interrupting his train of thought. Felix
stopped for a moment and listened; it was a pair of footsteps
trotting toward him, followed by a second. It wasn’t long before
the soft light of the hallway’s faded bulbs revealed the culprits,
Jenn and her boyfriend Bradley. At least, he thought Bradley was
her boyfriend; they certainly spent enough time together. Since
meeting them both at the start of the program three years ago,
Felix had never been able to pinpoint the precise nature of their
relationship.

He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his
nose toward his eyebrows and peered out at the pair. He wondered
what sort of person goes by “Bradley.” “Brad” seemed so much more
efficient.

“Felix!” Bradley shouted. The muscular, blond
nineteen-year-old chuckled a bit before jogging ahead of Jenn to
meet Felix head on.

“Why is it that no matter what the
conversation, you always laugh before you speak?” Felix asked, not
expecting an answer.

Bradley complied with the assessment. “What’s
going on, bud?” he asked. “Where were you tonight?”

“Oh, you know me, Brad,” he replied. “Just
busy, per usual.”

Bradley smirked. “It’s Brad
ley
,
actually. As I know you already know.”

“Well, if you’ll excuse me, Brad
ley
,”
Felix replied tiredly, “as you yourself have pointed out, I am
quite late for class this evening.”

Bradley chuckled. “Late? You’re a bit more
than late, pal. Class ended just a minute ago.”

“Then I suppose,” Felix said, “I am
exceedingly early for tomorrow’s. Either way, if you’ll excuse
me.”

“Huh?”

“I am trying to ... ”

Felix paused his response, interrupted by
Jenn’s noisy approach. He looked past Bradley to her feet and
watched her clonk briskly toward their conversation in those purple
high-heeled shoes she so often wore. She strolled up to Bradley’s
backside and parked herself directly behind him, peering from over
his left shoulder at Felix. Her slender body was completely
concealed by Bradley’s large frame, giving Felix the illusion that
Bradley now had two heads, albeit one much more attractive than the
other.

Felix had always found Jenn appealing, but
her physicality was where any thought of interest halted. She was
attractive enough--good complexion, light eyes, athletic build--but
something was off.

What’s wrong with this one?
he
wondered.
It’s the way she always says my name
, he
immediately decided,
like she’s spitting out something
unexpectedly pickle-flavored. Or perhaps it’s simply that
insufferable Bradley who’s always hanging from her bodice like a
vestigial appendage. And the hair
, he added.
Yes, her hair
is just a bit too short. Five centimeters, perhaps.

“Felix?” Jenn asked, a puzzled look on her
face.

“Oh, sorry,” Felix stumbled. “Did you just
say something?”

“Yes,” she said, a smile forced across thin
lips. “I was asking where you were tonight. I would really have
liked to hear your input on the relationship between the quantum
state and cellular mitosis.”

“Is that so?” Felix wasn’t sure whether to
feel complimented by the comment or annoyed about the delay that
came packaged with it. He wasn’t sure why but, at that exact
moment, he felt an increasing urgency to speak with the professor.
He had no logical reasoning behind the impulse, but didn’t like to
be stopped from doing something he wanted to do, even if he didn’t
know why he wanted to do it.

“Well, I’m sure the professor had much to say
on the subject. Perhaps if I hurry now I can catch him before he
turns in for the evening.”

Jenn spoke quickly, seeming to take the hint.
“Yes, well, I truly hope to see you next class. I expect you
understand how much everyone benefits from full attendance by all
members of Curriculum B. Especially you. It would be good of you to
think about the rest of us every once in awhile, and what we’re
trying to accomplish in there.”

So much for subtlety
, thought Felix.
“I’m just a colleague, Jenn. A peer, nothing more,” he said
aloud.

“I know.” She nodded and turned her
attention. “Come, Bradley.” Jenn lifted her arms behind the
muscular teen and gave him a gentle two-handed push forward.
Bradley said goodbye and Felix watched the two of them as they
walked off down the corridor, speaking about something or other,
with about half a meter between them.

This was the sort of thing that bothered
Felix. He was almost sure that they were a couple, but if so, then
shouldn’t his arm be around her shoulders, or their hands be held
together? Shouldn’t they be doing anything other than just walking
half a meter apart?

I guess it really doesn’t matter
, he
thought.
I won’t see them again anyway
. Felix stopped
walking.
Won’t see them again? Why did I just think that?
he
pondered.
Maybe I subconsciously want to leave the program. Is
that why I feel like speaking with Professor Linus tonight?
Felix continued his walk down the hallway toward room B13.

A few minutes later, Felix passed another
group of students leaving the classroom. Some ignored him, others
shot a quick and disapproving glance.

It’s not like the institution is paying
me
, Felix thought.
I should be the angry one.

Soon, Felix arrived at B13’s door and knocked
against its old thick wood three times. He wasn’t surprised by the,
as he presumed, intentional lack of response. After all, the
professor had to know it was he. Who else would be arriving at this
hour?

He sighed and cracked the door open slowly.
As predicted, Professor Linus was standing on the other side, well
within audible range of the earlier knocks, erasing various
equations from his oversized chalkboard.

Linus was an extremely tall man, only a few
inches short of Felix himself. He looked enough like what one might
expect from a prominent Ivy League professor, except for, perhaps,
his infamous hairdo. The gray-speckled brown mane he sported looked
more like the nesting place of an Amazonian bird than the quaff of
a prominent academic. Yet, somehow, as many students had pointed
out to the professor in the past, the look oddly seemed to fit
him.

If the professor heard Felix enter the room,
he didn’t betray it.

“Professor,” Felix said. He waited patiently
for a response before trying again. “Professor Linus, I’d like to
speak with you.”

“And I with you,” Linus quipped, “about two
hours ago.”

“I know. You have my apologies.” Felix
entered the room and walked toward one of the desks at its
center.

“Pressing business at eleven thirty on a
Wednesday, have we?” Linus asked without turning to face his
absentee pupil.

“No, it isn’t that.”

“Then,” Linus took on the voice he normally
reserved for lectures, “would it be safe to assume that we’ve made
an active decision to not attend class tonight?”

“I suppose that would be a practical
assumption.”

“Of course it’s a practical assumption,”
Linus quipped, “but is it accurate?”

Felix lifted his glasses above his forehead
and rubbed his eyes between his right index finger and thumb.
“Yes,” he admitted.

“I thought so,” Linus said, quieting. “And
would it then also be safe to conclude that the only reason you
would be coming here tonight at one-thirty in the morning, after
class has already concluded, is to ask me for permission to leave
the program at a time when I’m clearly exhausted and therefore less
likely to have the stamina to try to talk you out of it?”

“Yes,” Felix responded curtly, “that appears
to be the long and short of it.”

Linus finished erasing the board and turned
to face Felix for the first time since he’d arrived. “Good,” he
said. “I’ve been waiting for it.”

“A little harsh, don’t you think, Professor?”
Felix asked, slightly annoyed by the man’s reaction.

“No, no, don’t misunderstand me.” Linus took
a step toward Felix and gestured at the chair behind his desk.
“Take a seat.”

Felix, unsure of what to make of this
unexpected line of discussion, cautiously sat in the professor’s
puffy leather chair. Linus walked to the other side of his desk and
pulled one of the loose plastic chairs from the main classroom to
the front of it. He sat down.

“Listen, Felix,” Linus said, “you aren’t a
humble man, but you aren’t a prideful one either, so this might be
a slightly awkward conversation for both of us. I’m going to be
completely honest with you, and I would like you to take what I am
about to tell you seriously.” Felix nodded, his curiosity rising
with each of the professor’s words.

“There are three things important to any
scientist who wishes to affect his or her field. The first is
breadth of knowledge, a collection of facts, theories and equations
that exist in your brain-space instead of your textbooks. It’s the
ability to answer relevant questions on the fly and reference your
memory like an encyclopedia.

“The second is genuine ingenuity. This is
something that can’t be achieved through mere hard work. It’s a raw
talent that most people show before the age of four if they have it
to begin with. If you weren’t born with it, then there isn’t
anything you can do to achieve it.”

Felix skillfully internalized a yawn. This
discussion was turning out to be a lot less intriguing and a lot
more clichéd than he’d previously hoped. After all, it was almost
two in the morning; almost time for bed.

“The first two,” the professor continued,
“are something that everyone who was invited to participate in
Curriculum B share. Each student who attends this private late
night course is one of the brightest scientific minds alive in the
world today. But you, Felix, are something more. You are the only
one of my students who shows the third quality, the ability to
synthesize that wide knowledgebase with ingenuity on an enlightened
level: true, genius-level thinking and comprehension. And I’m not
talking about some six-year-old with an early penchant for chess.
What I reference is the combination of a genius thought-process and
a practical understanding of science. It’s the ability to produce
and manipulate what we like to call ‘super science.’”

Felix stood out of Linus’ chair and stretched
his lengthy arms toward the ceiling. “Very well, Professor. You’ve
convinced me to stay. No need to keep us both awake any longer for
the needless coddling of my ego. We’ll see each other
tomorrow.”

Linus jumped from his chair and confronted
Felix before he could move.

“You aren’t listening to me, Felix.” Linus
placed his hands on the sides on Felix’s arms just below his
shoulders and guided him back down into his seat. “I’m trying to
say that your abilities are beyond anyone’s in the classroom.”
Felix started to stand again, but was stopped once more by the
professor’s grip, this time, pressing him down into the chair with
more force than before. “Felix, your aptitude in quantum biology,
theoretical and applied both, surpasses even my own. In fact, I
would go so far as to say that it surpasses anyone known to us
here, in Europe, Asia, or beyond. And I have an offer for you.”

“An offer?” Felix asked. The professor
sharply released his hold on Felix’s arms and took a step backward.
The hook was set.

Felix shook out the wrinkles Linus had caused
in his shirtsleeves and brought his glasses back down to his face.
“What sort of offer?”

“An offer from the funders of this program,”
Linus replied.