Felicity would not abide the sniveling naysayers who could never see an enterprise but for its flaws. To them nothing would ever be just right unless it was wholly blemish free. In such matters she sided with Plato and accepted that perfection was not of this world. Abelard, she would be the last to deny, certainly had his faults: for most problems extreme irrevocable violence could always be found at the top of his how-best-to-react list; he had an unpleasant tendency to haughtiness; his background was, at the very least, highly suspicious. But, weighed against these stains he was, at any rate towards her, kind, honourable and, inexplicably, given his other proclivities, not misogynous. On balance, which was the only fair way to make assessments, she saw Abelard as good. Moreover, she had little faith in him ever recovering his memories and expected him to be around for a very long time.
Felicity had two goals, one for her and one for Abelard. She also had set for these ends a precise and, as was her habit, detailed time line. Four was the magic number. Almost a full year had already come and gone and she was overjoyed with Abelard’s progress. The next 24 months would be like preparing foie gras, the goose’s gift to starving fat cells, stuffing into Abelard all he would need to succeed at an MBA program. Happily, she knew that Abelard would be a willing bird. Getting admitted to a prestigious institution worried her not in the least. Her uncle, she was sure, would to that end use his all pervasive influence.
For herself, three years on, she wanted a tenure track position at a good university. She would hold on to her post-doctoral student status for the next few years, until society finally reabsorbed Abelard into its anonymity. Over that time, she would become a veritable publication machine, keeping her profile high and admired in the medieval archeology world. Blissfully, it was a small world.
Abelard was full of surprises. Arithmetic, Algebra and Geometry were already part of his repertoire. Upgrading him to basic statistics and Calculus was child’s play. Unwilling to be ridiculed about his memories, he said that he could not explain how he had acquired such useful knowledge. Felicity took it as an encouraging sign that he was rejecting the fantastic fiction that he claimed as his past. Abelard, however, knew better.
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The Perfect Human: An Abelard Chronicles Book Page 35
