by Brey Willows
“Ah yes, your articles. Really, babe. Your writing is so damn good. I only understand three-quarters of what you write. You should give up the teaching thing and concentrate on your books and conferences. That’s what you’re good at.”
“I’m a damn good teacher, too.” Selene stood and took her plate to the kitchen, intentionally leaving Mika’s on the table, another pet peeve of hers. I doubt she understands even three-quarters. She tried to quash the unkind thought.
“I didn’t mean to say you’re not. You’re just wasted there. I still can’t believe you turned down that job at SUNY. New York is a fabulous place, and you’d be working with far more stellar minds.”
She scrubbed the plate, trying to let her anger wash down the sink with the beige leftovers. “I told you. I don’t like New York. I don’t like cities. I don’t like cold. L.A. is my home. And the students here need someone to believe in them even more than the students who have the money and family to go to the big schools.”
Mika came up behind her and slid her arms around Selene’s waist. “Please don’t be upset with me. Logically, you know someone of your intelligence and capability should be teaching at the highest level, to achieve the greatest gains. I’m sure there’s a philosopher who says something along those lines.”
“Sure. Marxists think along those lines. But I’m not one.”
Mika kissed a soft line along Selene’s neck and shoulder. “Whatever you are, I think you’re amazing. I just want to see you reach your potential. Surely that’s not so bad?”
Her hands caressed circles so soft they were almost irritating on Selene’s stomach. “No, of course not.” She threw the hand towel on the counter, knowing it would irk Mika’s OCD. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.” She turned in Mika’s embrace and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. “I think I’ll head home. I’m tired.”
Mika rolled her eyes and threw up her hands. “Sure. Head home. I say something you don’t like, and you run. Go ahead. Let me know when you want to see me again.”
She walked away in a huff and closed the bedroom door behind her. Selene sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose to stop the headache rapidly forming. She hated fighting with Mika, but she really was tired, and the jibes about her not reaching her potential were a hot button, one Mika knew better than to push. She gathered her things and headed for the train station, imagining a nice hot bath and a cup of Sleep Tight tea. Surely tomorrow will be better.
Chapter Three
Alec waited at the train station for the Silver Line to arrive. Today was the day she would make contact, and there was so much riding on it she felt like she might be ill. That was a new feeling after so many centuries of knowing exactly what she was doing, and why. Now, although there was no question in her mind about the cause, she had doubts about how to get the one person they needed on their side.
The train arrived, and she watched as Selene was the last to get off, per usual. And, as was the case lately, she clearly felt Alec’s presence as she looked around, a sliver of fear showing in her usually calm expression. Alec stepped back into the shadows. Not yet. She’s not ready. Alec ignored the little voice in her head that said it was she who wasn’t ready. Once she took that step, it was acknowledging the plan going into play, something they couldn’t pull back from. She decided to head to the office to get an update on other issues before coming back to see Selene during her three o’clock coffee break.
She watched Selene head toward the Engineering and Technology Building, which for some reason also housed the Philosophy Department, and noticed the way Selene’s hips swayed just right, and the way her blond hair moved in time with her walk. She thought about her eyes, a rare pale blue. The color of her mother’s eyes. The thought of Selene’s mother made her smile. With a deep sigh, she pushed the memories out of her mind and headed for work.
*
Selene quickly sorted through the messages on her desk before she checked her email. The first one was from Mika.
Babe, I’m sorry. I know I shouldn’t bug you about it. I promise not to say anything ever again. Come over tonight and allow me to make it up to you. M.S.
It wasn’t much in the way of an apology, but it was likely genuine, as Mika didn’t say things she didn’t mean. Which means she meant exactly what she said last night. Her fingers hovered over the keyboard before she closed the email and quickly scanned others. She was ambivalent about seeing Mika again tonight, as they normally spent a maximum of three nights a week together so they both got the space they needed. But if she was going to truly accept the apology, then perhaps she should capitulate. She looked up at the knock on her door. There was rarely anyone else around so early in the morning. She liked the silence and the slow ease into her work day.
“Hi, Professor. I’m sorry to bother you, but there’s a man at reception asking to see you, and he says it’s urgent. A Frey Falconi?”
She tilted her head and studied the student receptionist. “Frey Falconi? Can you tell me what he looks like?”
The student frowned, and her eyes nearly crossed as she considered the question. “Well…he’s youngish, like maybe thirty. And he’s cute, you know, like in a kind of nerdy, kind of outdoorsy way. His jeans fit him well.” The student blushed and smiled. “Is that good enough?”
Selene bit her bottom lip. Yes, that sounded like him. She’d worn her comfortable clothing today, a baggy cream sweater and loose black trousers, with her most sensible shoes. If there was ever a day she would have broken out those heels, this would have been one of them. Frey Falconi was a current philosopher celebrity. He’d been on a number of TV shows discussing the nature of religion as opposed to rational thinking, and had his own YouTube channel discussing philosophy in two-minute spurts. He was a people person. Followers flocked to his charisma and easygoing smile. He put philosophy and logic into layman’s terms, and the public was eating it up. When she’d seen him on talk shows or watched his podcasts online, Selene had envied his ability to converse so simply about the subject most students found so difficult, and many philosophers had trouble discussing outside their own profession.
“Okay. Yes. Send him up, please.”
The student nodded and scurried off. Selene dug in her desk drawer and found a simple cardigan, balled up and covered in old cookie crumbs. She ripped off her old sweater and pulled the cardigan on over her ribbed tank top, after shaking off the largest of the crumbs. It wasn’t much, but it was better.
“Ms. Perkton?” Frey Falconi stood in her doorway, looking for all the world like it wasn’t seven a.m. and raining outside.
“Mr. Falconi. What an unexpected pleasure. Please come in.” She motioned to the chairs across from her desk, glad she could keep her baggy trousers and shoes hidden away.
“Thank you. I wonder if you’d be so good as to sit with me on this side? I find that the formality of sitting across from someone at a desk creates a sense of hierarchy rather than communal discourse between equals.”
She winced inwardly but smiled at his implication they were equals. Clothes don’t make the woman. She moved to the chair opposite him and waited for him to begin.
“I’m sorry to burst in on you like this, Ms. Perkton—”
“It’s Doctor, actually, but please call me Selene.”
He nodded, and his eyes crinkled with his smile, which seemed so genuine she couldn’t help but smile back.
“Of course. My apologies. I saw on your university profile page that you kept early hours. I hope you don’t mind me coming in without an appointment, and I know you’re busy, so I’ll get right to the point. Selene, I read your paper recently on the transhuman evolutionary parallel with constructivism, and the tie-in with the Deleuzian rhizome. I thought it was absolutely inspired, and I just had to meet you to discuss it.”
Selene’s shock must have been apparent in her expression, because he started to laugh.
“Did you think no one was paying attention? I admit, I thought the same about my work until I
realized it could be put in terms people understand. Taking it out of the ivory tower and feeding it to the masses, so to speak. And then people suddenly started paying attention.”
“I’ve seen the way you discuss objectivism. I don’t always agree with what you have to say, but I immensely appreciate the way you communicate it. The videos are always so beautifully shot. I wish I could do that with my students.”
He leaned forward, his hands clasped together tightly. “But you can. I’ve read your work, and I believe you have the same talent. Just as you don’t agree with all of my ideas, I don’t subscribe to all of yours. But that could create something extraordinary, a new philosophy all its own.” He stood up and began to pace, his hands in constant motion as he spoke. “You see, I want to create a movement. I want to write articles, develop TV programs, hell, maybe even do a movie. About the next stage of human evolution. The next stage of the human condition. I know you’re a costructivist, so you understand what I’m saying. We both believe humanity has to change. I think, together, we can go to the uneducated, uninformed masses who still pray to some cloud figure in the sky, and get them to understand what their role could be in a new world order.”
He stopped and looked at her expectantly, and she found herself dumbstruck. “I’m sorry. You want to change the world. The entire world, and the way it thinks. With philosophy.”
He dropped into the chair opposite her and gave her a boyish grin. “Yes! What’s so strange about that? Philosophy from the time of Aristotle and Plato has changed the world. We still teach the Socratic Method. You teach it, and teach it well, might I add, because you believe in the power of it to get students to think differently. I’ve done my research, and I know your students understand philosophy better than any other students I’ve come across, and that’s because of the way you impart the information, and because of your passion.”
He leaned forward, breathing hard. “More people are paying attention to the questions of meaning, truth, and existence than ever before. Part of the transhuman issue of technology is making people yearn for information about the next step, to understand what it means to be connected. Did you know that fourteen million people in England alone declared they weren’t religious last year? And that there’s been a twenty percent decrease over the last decade of people who belong to any religion at all? People are ready for this, and the stats back me up when it comes to my followers. There are likely millions more people ready to take the leap into philosophy and logic, who just need someone to explain things in a way they can understand. I think, together, you and I could give them that. We could take the time to work on a book, and during that time, I’ll be discussing the options with agents and such.”
“But…I’m not a TV person. I’m not a public person. I like quiet libraries and my house in the woods. I could write with you, of course. I’d be honored, as long as I don’t have to put my name on anything I find truly at odds with my own personal philosophy.”
He laughed, a big guttural laugh. “Of course, I’d expect nothing less. And I’m aware you’re not a public figure.” He looked her over. “But with the right people behind the scenes, we could make you into a presentable figure to go on talk shows with me, if that was warranted. And of course, you’d need a new look for the book tour. Perception and semiotics and such, you know.”
He grinned conspiratorially, and she gave him a slight smile in return. Between his remarks on her appearance and Mika’s on her job choice, she was starting to wonder what exactly she had going for her, if anything. Well, Falconi wouldn’t be there if it weren’t for her work, so at least she had that.
“Can I take some time to think about it? Obviously, it sounds like an excellent opportunity, but I need to check my schedule and see if I can handle the time commitment you’re talking about. I can’t just leave my teaching commitments, and I’m in the middle of several articles with deadlines.”
He looked deflated, like a child whose balloon has been popped. “Of course. By all means, take the time you need. I’ll work with someone else if I need to, but you’re my first choice. Shall we give you two weeks?”
She nodded. Two weeks was a good amount of time to seriously consider her options. Mika won’t be able to contain herself. She held out her hand to indicate their meeting was over, and he looked slightly surprised, and then amused.
“Thank you for coming by. It’s been a pleasure, and I’ll be in touch within the next two weeks with my decision.”
He shook her hand. “I’ll be waiting.”
*
Two fifty-five p.m. Alec took a deep breath and waited at the little coffee table by the door of the staff cantina. In a few minutes, Selene would walk in, and there would be no turning back. Her phone vibrated in her pocket and she pulled it out.
“Hey, boss.”
“Have you made contact? What’s she like?”
“Just about to. I’ll come to the office when I’m done.”
“I don’t need to remind you—”
“Nope. Gotta go.”
She hung up just as Selene entered the room. Alec watched her walk to the counter, but this time, instead of noticing her seductive sway, she noticed a strange energy cloud attached to her, dark and thick. She wondered if Selene was even aware of it, and who she’d been with that had such bad energy.
Selene turned away from the counter, and Alec made her move. She got up with her coffee and headed Selene’s way while looking down at the phone in her hand.
“Oh my God. I’m so sorry.” Alec looked up just as she crashed into Selene and spilled the lukewarm drink on her.
“Oh!” Selene jumped back, but a fair amount was still on the oversized sweater.
“I wasn’t watching where I was going. I’m so sorry. Here, let me…” Alec tried to dab at the coffee but just spread it around.
“No, please. That’s okay. It happens. Really.”
Selene looked more distressed than her words suggested, and Alec felt bad for the clichéd ruse. “Can I get it cleaned for you? Or buy you a new one? A whole new wardrobe?” She relaxed slightly when Selene finally looked directly at her and laughed softly.
“I know it’s not the nicest sweater, but I don’t think that means I need a whole new wardrobe.” She looked at Alec almost speculatively. “But I’ll take you up on your offer to get it cleaned.”
Bingo. Alec smiled broadly. “Excellent. How shall I get it from you? I assume you don’t want to strip down here?” She grinned and wiggled her eyebrows, and the way Selene blushed made her pulse quicken.
“If you want to come back to my office with me, I’ve got a change in there.” She held out her hand. “I’m Selene.”
Alec took her hand. “Alec. Lead the way.”
They walked the short distance to Selene’s office in an awkward silence.
“Do you work here?” Selene asked. “I’m sure I haven’t seen you on campus before.”
“I was here for an interview. I had only just stopped for a coffee before I decided to share it with you.”
“Oh? What position?”
“Theology professor.” Alec saw the way Selene tried to mask her distaste.
“That’s nice.”
Selene opened the door to her office and grabbed the rumpled cardigan she’d thrown on her chair. She held it for a moment, then glanced at Alec and made a vague motion with the sweater.
“Oh, sorry.” Alec turned her back and grinned. She somehow always managed to forget how modest people could be. She enjoyed walking around stark naked whenever she could. But then, she had other assets that made her feel less naked than the average human.
“Here you go.” Selene held out the stained sweater.
“Thank you. I’ll have it back to you tomorrow.” Alec took it and folded it neatly before looking at Selene. “I don’t suppose I could entice you to have lunch with me? I promise not to make you wear any of it.”
Selene looked frozen, and she looked everywhere but at Alec.
�
��Hey, no worries. You can let me know when I drop your sweater off tomorrow. I promise not to be offended. It would just be nice to have a face I know here, if I get the job.”
Selene’s expression relaxed. “Great. I’ll let you know tomorrow. Thank you.”
Alec nodded and took Selene’s hand in her own. “Till tomorrow, then.”
Chapter Four
Alec strolled into the office with a box of Krispy Kreme donuts and a tray of Starbucks. Although there were many things about the modern age she didn’t like, the junk food was excellent. Thanks to her line of work, she traveled enough to keep her waistline down, but some of the older folks didn’t have such luck. Most of them didn’t care anymore though. Sitting behind a desk all day seemed to drain away old vanities.
She pushed open her boss’s door with her hip.
“About damn time. We’ve been going batshit waiting for you.”
“Sorry. I needed some time to think after I met with her. And I come bearing an edible apology.”
“I’ll give you an edible apology,” he mumbled around a bit of donut.
“I never understand you when you say things like that.”
“It’s his way of accepting your not-so-humble apology.” Ama swept her thick black hair behind her shoulders and snagged a chocolate glazed and a chai latte.
“Being humble doesn’t get things done. Or get people to do what you need them to.” Raspberry filling oozed over Alec’s thumb from the side of her donut, and she licked it off suggestively, making Ama laugh and choke on her drink.
“Disgusting behavior. Report.”
She watched Zed wipe the crumbs from his beard. He was one of the few old-timers still working who took pride in his physique, and she knew he’d be in the gym later working off the morning treat. She leaned back in her chair and took a sip of her soy latte before beginning.
