by C. Litka
Chapter 28: Addenda
Wednesday14 August
A story ends with two words, but the Highlands, having tried very hard and failed to kill me, left it to me to decide where to place those two words in the stream of life. I chose to set them down as the night train to London pulled out of Waverley. But my summer beyond the pale left some loose ends and strange repercussions that I feel I should recount to round off its story.
I'll start on other side of “The End”, the night train to London.
I merely dozed in my seat, and disembarked at Peterborough early Monday morning. The last storm had shorted out my bike's electrical system, so I abandoned any idea of biking down to Cambridge and waited for the first train. When I reached my hot, stale flat, I was able get several hours of solid sleep before forcing myself up around eleven, showering and then setting out for the Cavendish.
Cambridge was a little greyer than it had been at the start of summer, the day was warm, but lightly overcast and the Grange Road, however familiar, seemed, well, too familiar. Stale. I'd a sense of traveling backwards, somehow.
My card still opened the doors of the Cavendish, and I stood in the entryway and debated my first visit, Blake or Penny. I discovered a certain hesitancy in seeing Penny. It's not that I'd betrayed her, she made no claim to me and hadn't for more than three years, and so if there was a betrayal, it was all in my mind. Still, I wanted our first meeting to be right. Unhurried. I started up for the Director's Office instead.
'Why good morning, Dr Say,' said Vera, Blake's receptionist. 'We hadn't expected to see you until the end of the week.'
'It's good to see you again, Vera,' I smiled. 'I finished earlier than expected and decided to let the Professor know I'm back. Is he in?'
'Out to lunch, but he just has one half hour meeting on the schedule this afternoon. Should I tell him you'll be around?'
'Please. I'm planning to stop down in the lab and maybe go out for lunch, but I'll hang around this afternoon if he cares to fit me in.'
She smiled, knowing full well who I planned to go out to lunch with – if I could swing it – and who I'd hang around with this afternoon, down in the lab.
Penny was surprised and genuinely happy to see me when I showed up in the doorframe of our little office.
'What are you doing here, Sandy? We didn't expect you for a few days. My you look fit and trim. You couldn't have been working too hard,' she said, looking over me after giving me a nice kiss and still holding my hand in hers.
'I've come to take you to lunch. I was sacked earlier than expected, so here I am and I'm starved.'
'So am I,' she replied brightly. 'Let me put a few things away and we'll be off.'
We had a long and enjoyable lunch – dim sum of course – while I brought her more or less up to date. I finished with the great storm – without mentioning TTR's lab and then Learmonte showing up earlier than expected and gleefully sacking me. She, in turn, said I was in luck since Professor Sing was celebrating his birthday and many of his former students, including many we both knew would be up to help him celebrate at the University Arms.
Afterwards we returned to the lab and I sat at my desk next to hers and began to absently review certain experimental results that I was planning to investigate until Professor Blake called to invite me to his office.
Vera ushered me in and closed the door behind me. Professor Blake rose and greeted me with unexpected cheerfulness, which put me on guard.
'My disruptive post doc has arrived home – and not a day too soon. Your foreign per diem was driving the Cavendish to ruin. Whatever got into me?'
'I believe it was guilt. But it's good to see you again, sir. It's good to be home.'
'Good to see you too, Dr Say. Have a seat. Let's see your research results,' he added in his best sarcastic grin.
I've rarely had a chance to see Blake in a jovial mood, but I recognized it now, so I sat down and blandly told him, 'I didn't bring it along. Lord Learmonte said I needn't bother. He'd pass it along to you when you were up next month.'
'What does Learmonte have to do with this. You're working for me, Say.'
'I believe you neglected to make that clear to Lord Learmonte. He seemed under the impression that I was working for him. I did ask politely. However, since I was working on his machine, per your instructions, unable to download anything without a key I wasn't given, there was little I could do when he declined to provide a copy. Ever mindful of your instructions, to keep everything civil, I left without it.'
'You just left, eh...' he said darkly – but, as I said, he was just having his fun.
'Yes. However, while I don't pretend to know your full game, I suspect that by leaving your transcription with him and unseen by you, it would allow it to be used as a bargaining chip, in the great game. So I didn't kick. Meek and mild, yes sir, no sir, just as you told me to be.'
'Ha!' he said. 'That's hardly what I heard. But never mind. You're right, I'll deal with Learmonte. You've everything in your head anyway. That's why I sent you. You can write up your report and submit it in the next day or two, but just give me a brief abstract of your findings.'
'Off the top of my head?'
'Don't play coy with me, Say. I know you know everything important backwards and forwards, that's why I chose you. And I'm certain you've plenty of ideas of your own. Let's hear those too.'
'I'm blushing with your unexpected compliments, sir. But truth be told, the mice know far more than I. And since Learmonte made it clear that he did not want me to do anything more than transcribe and would have me in court if anything I did subsequently bore any resemblance to what I transcribed, I haven't spent a great deal of time dwelling on the few facts I did manage to eke out of the scraps.'
'Save for the trial, Say,' Blake shot back. 'I want to hear what you've learned these last two months.'
'Right. Well, you know the theory TTR was working under?'
'Gallagher's virtual reality universe.'
'Right. Nothing moves. Everything appears at the proper time just as programmed. This gives the universe what we perceive as a physical dimension. Nothing has to move, so all TTR had to do was see that an electron introduced in atom A causes atom B to emit one electron as if it had received one from atom A, no matter where atom B actually is located. They act as if they were physically adjacent. Rather off the wall, I'd say.'
'Hugh Gallagher was a respected experimental physicist, well known for designing elegant experimental apparatus. And he was married to the mathematical physicist Selina Beri. He wasn't a kook.'
'TTR didn't think so, and he got his device to work.'
'How did he do that?'
'Don't know. But from what I could make out, it seems to involve a great deal of working with single layer grapheme structures. However, the deeper I got into the papers, the more obscure the processes he used became. Chalk it up to both missing sections and the terminology he used to describe what he was doing. I really have no idea how he did it in the end.'
'Can you figure it out?'
I shrugged. 'If you mean can someone figure it out from what we have, well, yes. Maybe. Eventually. There are probably enough clues to eventually reconstruct his process. However, I've no intention of pursuing it, and will try to forget everything just as soon as I write up your report.'
'Will it work?'
'The notebooks seem to indicate experimental success, but I can't be sure.' I wasn't going to mention the lab until Blake did. I'd a feeling he knew. If thirty-five years ago Learmonte bumped into the strange electromagnetic field around his grandfather's lab, he'd likely turn to a scientist friend for advice, and who would have been more qualified than his old college pal, Everett Blake?
'Assuming the device works, can it be turned into a useful method of energy transmission?' he asked, almost eagerly.
'Assuming it works, though I suspect there may be issues,' I shot back.
'Such as?'
'I suspect the process was not lossless. I'
ve a handwritten table that suggests there was a 3% to 4% loss in transmission. A quantum effect. The question is where do those electrons end up? One possibility I'd been tossing around was in an electric field of some sort.'
He settled back in his chair and made a steeple of his hands and considered me for a while before saying, 'All right Say. I gave my word long ago to say nothing to anyone. So let's leave it at that and stop fencing. You know it works. And knowing you, you have your own ideas on how.'
'I haven't a clue. His theory says the electrons simply disappear and reappear without occupying the space between them. We both, I believe, know that in practice there are certain effects which the theory he used does not appear to account for. Perhaps we're merely looking at the missing 3-4%. I don't know. Really, Professor. I haven't a clue, and I didn't see anything in what's left of the papers to suggest a theory. However, it's a moot point now.'
'Moot?' he said, leaning forward, his chair creaking.
'Saturday's storm blew it sky high.'
'Destroyed? Are you sure?'
'I was within five kilometres when it went up. I can assure you it was a very realistic approximation of the end of the world. It left nothing but a bare concrete slab. We walked right up to it. No field effects at all. The storm brought Learmonte up yesterday. He must have inspected the lab too, since he gleefully sacked me first thing yesterday morning, even though I still had a dozen pages or so yet to finish transcribing. The transcribed papers may not fetch as much as you hoped,' I added.
He considered the situation silently for a minute or two before he became aware of me again. He shook his head, 'You're a disruptive force of nature, Say.'
'Me? What did I do? You can't blame me for a solar storm,' I exclaimed.
'I can, if I care too,' he replied blandly. 'However, let's not quibble. Write up your report and turn it in. Stick to just what you discovered in the papers. We'll talk more about this and your summer later. I need to think now.'
'Right,' I said rising, adding, 'I trust that you'll not mention that I'm aware of the lab or its former condition. As you know, that's a deep and dark secret, at least in Learmonte's mind, and I don't need another thing for him to hold against me.'
'Of course. I've no reason to tell him I found out about it before he mentions it, as I'm sure he will, when I see him next. Good afternoon, Dr Say. I presume I'll see you again tonight at Sing's birthday affair.'
'With bells on, Professor.'
It was quite an affair, drawing many people I knew from my years in Cambridge and the Cavendish and I talked all evening long. I took Penny, but soon lost track of her, except for a dance or two when she dragged me onto the dance floor with her. I did, however, get to walk her home, early on the 13th.
We were walking arm in arm, mostly because Penny was a little tipsy and I was mostly sober and she needed someone reliable to pilot her home.
'Are you mad at me, Sandy?' she asked.
'Why would I be mad at you?'
'You're kind'a quiet, and well, I did more or less abandon you, though you seemed to be enjoying yourself... But, still, you've been rather quiet and I'd not want you mad at me.'
'I'm not mad at you at all. I enjoyed myself this evening, and I enjoyed seeing how much you were enjoying yourself. Truth is, Penny, I've come to appreciate you all the more.'
'Oh, let's not go there tonight. I don't feel like talking about it.'
'That's not where I'm going. I was just going to say how much I appreciate the fact that you're so strong. Even knowing how I felt about you, you didn't let your affection for me make you feel sorry for me. You didn't give in and let me love you again, because you knew it wouldn't work for us and I didn't...' I may have been a little tipsy myself. 'What I think I'm saying is you knew we weren't right for each other – outside of the lab – and I didn't. Not until now. We're friends, and that's all we can be. If we became lovers again, we'd likely not be friends after a while...'
'We're over, Say?' she said in mock surprise. 'And here I was all set to welcome you home by inviting you up for the night.'
'You weren't either...'
She stopped. We had reached the door of her flat. She looked at me. 'I was too. And I wasn't feeling sorry for you. I still am, if you want. One night for old times' sake.'
'You're drunk Penny.'
'Yes, but you're sweet, drunk or sober. And I've been ever so mean to you. If you know we don't belong together, one night won't change that.'
'Don't be too sure of that,' I said. I certainly wasn't. If it would cure me of Nesta, it might almost be worth the risk. But I knew, even standing this close to my dear Penny, that I'd feel guilty. Guilty about Penny, guilty about Nesta. Just guilty.
She sagged in and we shared a long kiss.
Leaning back, she looked at me, her face hidden in the shadows of the dim street light. 'Who is it. Your Lady Nesta?'
It was on the tip of my tongue to deny it, but drunk or sober, Penny knew me best. She'd know a lie. 'Yes. More or less. On my part only. She set the date to marry Lonsdale a few weeks ago. So she's even more hopeless than you.'
'Is she nice, Sandy?'
'I have impeccable taste in women, Penny,' I replied.
'Too impeccable,' she said softly.
'Yes,' I said. 'But I'll get by. I've gotten by before...'
'Well then I withdraw my offer. I'll not seduce you away from your new love. Don't carry her torch for as long as you carried mine...'
'I'll try not to.'
She nodded. 'I will see you tomorrow in the lab. Don't expect me much before noon. We can talk if you want, when I have my wits about me... Say good night, Say.'
'Good night, Penny,' I said, and took the opportunity to kiss her again. I helped her get her watson out to key open the door, and saw her up the stairs to her flat. She stepped in, turned and nodded, 'Goodnight, again,' and closed the door.
As promised, she turned up around noon to sit, holding her head and staring at her slate on the desk – I don't believe it was even turned on – for several hours, before calling it a day. As she was leaving, she stopped in the doorway and turning, said to me, 'We didn't do it last night, did we?'
'No.'
She nodded. 'Good.'
She turned and left, only to appear several seconds later in the doorway, 'Nesta? Right?'
'Yes,' I said.
She nodded again. 'Good.'
Monday 19 August
I was working in my office when I got a call from Professor Blake.
'Can you step up to my office?' he asked.
'Be right up.'
I had turned in my preliminary report on Friday and figured he wanted to go over some of the points with me. Vera waved me in and Blake waved me to a chair as I closed the door behind me.
'What in the hell did you do to antagonize Learmonte now, Say?'
'What in the hell did I do now?' I asked, startled. 'Nothing! I swear.'
'You've apparently greatly annoyed Learmonte. He spent an hour on the phone ranting about you Saturday night.'
'I've had nothing to do with him or anyone else connected with him since he sacked me, so I haven't a clue. I left like a mild mannered sheep.'
'Then why was he yelling at me about you? Said you weren't to be trusted. And that you were a low bred worm, among other, less complimentary things. Have you any idea at all?”
I shook my head, thinking hard. Blake gave me time to think.
'The only thing I can think of is that he found out I knew about TTR's lab. I gather he considered it a deep secret, though everyone I ran into seemed to know about it. If he found out I was out and about poking into his deepest darkest secrets, he might get a bit upset and think of me as a worm. I didn't have to do much of anything to upset him, it seemed.'
'Well you did something this time.'
'Did he say what?'
'Ah, that he wouldn't say. He just wanted your head on a platter. Now. He wanted you sacked from your post doc appointment.'
'
And you, of course, refused,' I said, doubtfully.
'Well, of course. I don't go sacking post docs at the whim of even a very wealthy old friend,' he replied. He was looking far too pleased. I already knew the answer.
'But if that old friend was looking to endow a research centre?'
He smiled. 'Don't over estimate your worth. Your sacking is not going to buy a multi-million-pound research centre.'
'But it'd be icing on the cake,' I suggested. I could see where this was leading.
He shrugged, and then smiled, 'We have the centre, Say. A signed commitment to build it in Cambridge. I promise you that I'll see that there'll be a break room or perhaps a conference room, if I have one to spare, that will be named in your honour. How many thousands of times people will say in the coming decades, “We're meeting in the Say Room”?'
'Thousands, I'm sure,' I said grimly.
He slipped a paper across his desk towards me. 'I'm very sorry to report that I find that the funding for your post doc appointment has not been forthcoming, so that I'll have to cancel it after this month. If you care to sign this notice that your contract has been cancelled, you'll be paid through September in lieu of the short notice.'
I took no notice of the paper, but watched Blake. 'So you threw me under the bus to get the centre.'
'A necessary sacrifice, Dr Say. And it was a sacrifice for me as well as you. Your research looks promising, and the Cavendish is giving up its share of the income your work may've brought in had you continued with it in your post doc work. And I emphasized that with Learmonte as well. The Cavendish is giving up the significant chance of a substantial income from patents by cutting you loose. I assure you, I didn't toss you under that bus for nothing,' he said, and then leaning forward added, 'I truly am sorry about this, Say. For anything less than that centre, I'd never even have considered it. I'm sure it will actually cost us lost revenue because your results and prospects do look very promising. But you can't make an omelette without breaking a few eggs, and I had to make a hard choice.
'Officially your funding fell through. People may well wonder about that, so you tell them that's all you know and refer them to me if they have any questions. Trust me Say, I'll give them my candid opinion that you have a very promising career ahead of you. You have enough ideas now to fill a lifetime's work and will have more next year and for decades to come. I had to think about the Cavendish and Cambridge as a whole and if sacking you at the request of the donor meant landing the centre, well, I had to choose the Cavendish over even a most promising young scientist. I don't feel good about it, but making hard decisions is why I'm paid as well as I am. I'm not trying to flatter you. I'm certain you'll land on your feet and find a position in no time. But you can count on me to help in any way I can.'
'Thank you sir,' I said. 'It's nice to hear you say that.' It would have been nicer to have heard it much earlier, but I'll not complain.
'Are you going to the Conference in London next week?' he asked. 'You need to be there to get the word out that you're available. I'm sure you'll find several leads.'
'I hadn't really thought about it,' I admitted. 'I've been living beyond the pale.'
'Get your registration form in, Say. Today.'
'Right.'
'Now all I need is your signature, and we'll be all set,' he said, inching the paper a little closer.
I considered it. 'And if I don't sign it? If I hold the Cavendish to its contract?'
He settled back. 'Go ahead. Try.'
'Oh, I'm willing to sign it, on one condition.'
'And what is that?'
'That I have your permission to call you Rave to your face, without you taking offence,' I replied.
He narrowed his eyes. 'That's asking an awful lot, Say. It usually takes decades.'
I shrugged. 'It's for the Learmonte New Technology Centre in Cambridge, sir. One more egg for the omelette.'
'Sign it Say,' he replied, and tossed a pen my way.
I signed it and pushed it back toward him.
'Thank you, Dr Say. I'm glad to see you've grown up. And I'm sorry our formal association has had to end so abruptly in this manner.'
'Well, I will always appreciate everything you've done for me, Professor Blake. And truth be told, you've done me a favour. Ever since I've come back, I've had this feeling that I need a change. Enough is enough. I've been in Cambridge for nearly eight years. It's time to move on. Another year might have been one too many.'
He nodded. 'Well, when you're ready to come back – in a decade or two, look me up,' and leaned forward to extend his hand.
I took it. 'Thank you for everything, Dr Blake.'
'Good luck, Dr Say. I'll see you at the conference.'
I returned to the small closet of an office I shared with Penny and emptied the contents of my desk into two bags.
'What are you doing?' Penny asked as she stepped in as I was finishing.
'Cleaning out my desk. I've been sacked again,' I replied, more cheerfully that I'd have ever imagined. The thought of starting something new was filling me with a new sense of adventure. 'It's getting to be quite a habit with me.'
'Oh lord, Sandy, what did you do now?”
'Who knows?' I replied. 'It doesn't matter. It was time.'
I hung around talking to Penny for an hour or so, and then headed out. I kept my Cavendish card. I didn't know when Blake would have it cancelled, but I was feeling in the moment that it'd be a long time before I came back. But that might pass.
Sunday 25 August
I met Red at Euston Station Sunday afternoon. He was in London for the Nanotechnology and New Materials Science Conference that started with an informal cocktail gathering that evening.
He'd just come back from Germany a few days before and had been spending a few days at home with his folks in Liverpool.
'What do you say, Say?' he greeted me in his usual breezy manner. 'Getting nose to the grind now that you're back at the good ol'Cavendish?' he asked as we made our way to the exits.
No point beating about the bush, 'I was sacked, Red. Officially my funding dried mysteriously up, but there are wheels within wheels...'
'Sacked? You're kidding me!'
'Nope.'
'Do you have anything lined up?' he asked.
'Hoping to find some leads at the conference,' I replied.
He clutched my arm, 'Give me the straight story, Sandy. Did they catch you stealing bagged lunches from the senior staff break room, or hacking the expresso machine, or making love to Professor Wright's wife, the lovely Linda? I need to know...'
'Well, Red, I'm afraid the story is rather tangled up in my NDA, so I don't know exactly what I can say or not. But here it goes. As you know, I was more or less contracted out to work on a project that I can't talk about. And even though the project was officially the Cavendish's, the person I was actually working for considered it his own. This person also happens to be an old friend of Blake's, and let's just say he has something that Blake wants so bad for the Cavendish that he'd throw me or his mother for that matter, under the bus if he could land it... Which he did, and not his mother.'
'That would be the Learmonte New Technology Centre,' said Red.
'I didn't say that,' I replied. 'But you can believe that if you want. The thing is that this individual I was unofficially working for did not take a liking to me...'
'Imagine that,' muttered Red shaking his head.
'In fact, he took a great disliking for me, and more or less made it a condition of Blake getting what he wanted. My head on a platter was the opening price, but Blake managed to drive it down to sacking.'
'So there's no scandal involved in your sacking, right?'
'No. A matter of personal vindictiveness, I guess. Still, it was time to move on, so I'm not really down. I should get some leads and Blake said to refer anyone that wonders about my sacking to him and he'd set their mind at ease.'
'Fantastic, Say!' exclaimed Red, excitedly. 'Do you remember meeting Dr
Vallier?'
'Of course, I was delighted to have a few minutes to talk to her. She's one of the brightest stars in our field.'
'Right, and did you notice that she was pregnant.'
'Ah, yes...'
'Well, the word around the department is that she informed the Department Chair on Friday that her pregnancy has gotten a bit dicey and the doctor has ordered complete bed rest for the remainder of her pregnancy. She was planning to teach this coming term but was still undecided if she wanted to be a professor or a mother next term. Now, however, we need someone right away to fill in for her, at least for this term and possibly next as well. The Chief sounded a bit frantic. Everything was set, and now who's he going to find who's qualified to fill in for Dr Vallier's advanced courses at such short notice with the term only weeks away? Who but Say, Ph.D.?
'You'd be perfect. You have all the qualifications in the exact field, and they know you, a little anyway. You'd be only a temporary assistant professor for one term with the possibility of it being extended to a second, but it would keep you off the streets and we'd be able to work shoulder to shoulder again like the old days! And just between you and me, there is talk of another new hire in our department next year, so that who knows...'
I stared at him. 'In Glasgow?'
'Where else, Say? Of course in Glasgow, seeing that's where the University of Glasgow is located. You were there. Remember?'
'Yes, of course, but I'd hardly know where to begin...'
'No sweat. Vallier's lectures are all recorded, so you'd not have to lecture, just handle the Q&A sessions, oversee the lab work, plus help her look after the students she supervises, and well, I'm sure they'll throw in an undergrad lab or two during the week to supervise as well. Nothing you couldn't do standing on your head. Is that a grand stroke of luck or not? Not for Professor Vallier, of course. Rotten luck for her, but even rotten luck has a silver lining... So what do you say, Say? Is it grand or not?
That, of course, was the question. Was it grand or not? Glasgow would be where Nesta would be practising and the very last thing I wanted to do was to run into Dr Nesta Lansdale any time in the next year, or two, or three. My memories of the summer were already taking on the gloss of the past, but my memories of Nesta stayed fresh to haunt me. I missed her quiet company. My rooms were empty and she wasn't ever going to stop by... I'd get over her, but not if I saw her again before I did. And not if I knew she was close. Nor could I be her friend of old. Not when she was now married to a husband that I would imagine would be gone most of the time... That simply would be lead to all sorts of new unhappiness.
'What? Say something Say. Aren't you excited about the prospect? I know it's only a temporary one, but as I hinted, there's talk of expanding our department, and if things work out, you'd have the inside track, if not an absolute lock. It's not the Cavendish, but we're a young department of up and comers. It's an exciting place to be... But I can see that you might want something better than a temporary assistant professorship. You have the talent to get more than that...'
I shook my head. 'No, no. It's not that. You just caught me by surprise. I guess I really haven't put any thought into what I wanted to do next. And well, I know you too well, Red. I give you the go-ahead and you'd be on the case in a shot. I just need to get my head around it, that's all. It'd be great to work with you, and seeing that I've met a bunch of the students already, it would indeed be grand,' I found myself saying.
'Well, just give it some thought. Our department head, Dr Douglas will be at tonight's binge. You've met him when I showed you around. If you want, I'll introduce you again and you can talk about it. See what he says and how you feel.'
'Thanks. Yes. I just need some time to think.'
Friday 25 October
Just to quickly wrap these addenda up.
I've indeed ended up in the University of Glasgow's New Technology Department as a temporary assistant professor. And though I've been very busy these past two months, I'm also having the time of my life. I guess my experience with Learmonte rather soured me on working in industry. I suspect that the locked down experience I had in Glen Lonon, while not typical in details is typical in the broader sense of being locked in and locked down in a very competitive world. I'm enjoying the freedom of working with very bright people full of ideas without having to think about keystrokes and locking up my computer every evening and NDAs...
I talked to the department head at the conference, and had an interview for the position the following week. It went well, and I was offered the position for one term two days later, which I decided to accept, having decided that Glasgow is a large enough city, with over half a million people that the chances of running into Nesta were low enough to risk it. And that was before I realized how much work I'd have to do.
Not having to lecture made the job sound easy, but having to be able to answer and explain everything Dr Virginia Vallier covered in her lectures – especially since it covered her own areas of research and expertise – meant that I had to make myself into an expert on her work. Fortunately, we got along fine and I've spent many an enjoyable hour with her (at her bedside) going over her lectures, research, and the work of the students she supervises, which has already greatly added to my knowledge. But it all takes time, and throw in the time I spend with her students in the lab and the two undergrad labs I have to ride herd on, and my occasional rides with bike club and I've kept busy. Not too busy to keep from thinking about Nesta, but at least thinking about her too much. Or worrying about running in to her on the street somewhere, or how much I'd like to.
But all this is another story, and not one I've the time to tell. I'm hoping to be offered a chance to stay on in some capacity, so far everyone seems satisfied with my performance and while I haven't the time or the authorization to do any research, they are aware of my work and Cambridge and they seemed intrigued enough to take that into account when considering future employment. But that's down the road. I still have to get through this term, and perhaps the next. Professor Vallier is still undecided about next term, waiting on how the birth of her child goes. (So far, so well.)
I do think I'd look for similar employment if my position here proves temporary. I've found I've really enjoyed the work, though I have to give credit where credit is due, working with Red Stuart is always fun, and he has done a great deal to open the doors into the academic society here and made me feel a part of it, even as just a jobbing professor.
Dr Penny Lee tells me she's seriously considering a professorship at Oxford of all places, and I've told her she'd be crazy not to accept it. I suspect she'll take it.
Looking back on my summer beyond the pale, it seems, well even stranger, more unreal than when I was living it. Believable only as fiction. It's hard now to believe that I was, at times, in real danger. It's hard to believe I felt like I'd found myself in a place that seemed to border on an older, stranger world. Makes me wonder what I was thinking this summer. And of course, there's Nesta. She seems now, every bit as fey and wonderful as that place in the highlands beyond the pale, Glen Lonon.
And yet, here I am back in Scotland only because that ill-tempered Scottish peer of the realm wanted my head on a platter. Weird. Just weird. And wonderful.
