Paradox: On the Sharp Edge of the Blade

by E. S. Martell

  The next morning was a bad one. As he came to breakfast, Mandi intercepted him, saying, “Walker, get over to Dameron's tent right now.”

  “Okay. What is it?” he asked.

  “You'll find out when you get over there,” she answered.

  She strode ahead of him turning to hold the tent flap open so he could enter.

  “Mr. Walker,” Dameron greeted him. “I can't allow this dig to be invalidated by one of the students playing a joke. I don't know how you got the knife into the strata where it was and I don't really care. As of now, you're off the dig. You will not be getting a passing grade. It's too late for you to drop the credit hours, but you're not welcome back. I'm going to give you a 60% grade for the time you've put in. Consider yourself lucky.”

  Logan couldn't believe it. He'd been sure that they understood that the find was legitimate, no matter how it had gotten there. It wasn't something that he'd planted.

  “Professor!” he said. “I didn't plant that there. You can't kick me out for something I didn't do.”

  “I can and I will,” said Dameron. “Now get your stuff together. You can get breakfast in town on your own time. End of discussion. GO.”

  As he walked away from the tent, Logan could have sworn that he heard the two of them laughing quietly.

  He got his kit out of the tent, packed everything on the back of his motorcycle, and rode slowly down the dusty track to the highway, not bothering to say anything to his tent mates.

  As he turned onto the asphalt, he thought, Then the realization that he now had no way to get the needed credits for graduation hit him with a crushing blow. His mood fell to a new low. At least I'll have a good breakfast in town. Better than the junk they've been feeding me. I've wanted to quit this crummy job since I got here.

  During breakfast at a fast food place, he decided that he'd better go and talk to Professor Berensten. Maybe there was something she could do. He'd be willing to work for extra credit. That could solve his problem. He started his bike, turned out onto the highway, and headed for Gainesville, cursing the heavy traffic.

  Chapter 6: A HOPELESS MESS

  Dr. Berensten wasn't going to be in until about three, according to her secretary. Then she had a couple of appointments and those might take her until sometime after four. The secretary didn't want to schedule anything else for her, but Logan finally convinced her to pencil him in. He had to practically beg her though, and he also had to promise not to take more than ten minutes.

  He left the office, and headed slowly down the stairs, lost in worry.

  Well, that would probably be enough time. I can tell her what happened quickly. Maybe she'll have a possible solution. I hope so, anyway. Logan, you just gotta get this graduation thing done on time. Life with that money will be so great, and without it, especially knowing that it's going to some scholarship fund that won't even consider me, will be a complete pain. I don't see how I'll ever be able to live with the memory of that possibility.

  I wish I'd been a better student and I also wish I'd been able to see this crunch coming earlier. Maybe last summer I would have had time to make some adjustments. It's not fair. It's not like I've been totally flunking my classes either, only that I've been carrying too light a load and just doing enough to squeak by.

  She'll be able to help, I just know it!

  He left the Archaeology department with an optimistic feeling, and headed across campus to The Hub. He'd play a video game and get some food, then go back in time to make his appointment.

  The game didn't seem to be as interesting as he remembered from the prior times he'd played it. Instead, his thoughts kept turning to the knife he'd found. How did it get there? There hadn't been any sign of disturbed soil. If there had been, he would have been suspicious.

  It would fit his view of Dameron, Mandi too, for one of them to have planted the thing in order to have an excuse to get rid of him. But, no, it hadn't been planted, despite Dameron's insistence that it had been. It had been there. Moreover, it was in soil that apparently hadn't been moved or changed for thirteen thousand years. The presence of the associated spear point proved that.

  When he arrived back at Berensten's office, she was still talking to a female student. He stood courteously in the hall outside her door, leaning against the opposite wall. He was far enough away that he couldn't make out what was being said, but strategically located where Berensten could see him, if she'd just look up.

  The two finished their conversation on a mutually satisfactory note, and the girl stood to leave. Berensten looked up as she left and saw Logan. She apparently hadn't noticed him before. He could see the rise and fall of her shoulders as she took a deep breath, then motioned for him to come in.

  “Logan, what's going on with you? I went out on a limb for you and threatened Dameron to take you, but now I hear that you've done something unethical. He's asked for an ethics committee hearing. You know that could result in you being expelled and not being allowed to enroll again. What in the name of all that's ancient did you do?”

  Logan was at a loss. “Uh...I hadn't heard any of that. Did he call you or something?” he asked.

  “Yes, he called. He said that you'd been disruptive, and that you planted a modern artifact in the dig. He thinks that might invalidate the entire summer's work, and all for a prank. His student supervisor confirmed his statement. She said that you were resentful about your digging assignment. I don't know your side of this, but I want to hear it. This is something that I take very seriously. I've helped you as much as I could, but if you've done what they say, you're on your own,” she answered.

  This was too much. Logan could feel his face flushing as his temper flared. “Damn those two!” he snapped.

  Berensten raised her finger in warning, but didn't say anything, so he continued.

  “Everything was going okay. They had me reducing the site and I used a shovel for days. They finally gave me a grid square all to myself, but it was far over to the side where there weren't any discoveries. Nothing. I found nothing but a few bits of rock. Then when I'm almost done with the location, I found a really nice spear point and right next to it was a stainless-steel knife. A modern knife! It hadn't been planted there as far as I could see. I thought that maybe Dameron or Mandi had shoved it in the ground so I'd look like a fool. The soil was totally undisturbed and the only thing I can say was the knife must have been dropped there at the same time the spear point was. That was supposed to have happened thirteen thousand years ago, so it can't be right – I just don't know. The thing is: I didn't have anything to do with placing either of the objects. I don't even know enough about digs to understand what invalidating one really means,” he said in a rush.

  Then he continued, “Dameron doesn't like me for some reason or other. I passed his course. I don't know what else I could have done. I didn't ever do anything to him or disrespect him. Except...”

  “Except what?” Berensten asked.

  He slowly said, “Maybe they somehow knew I was listening outside Dameron's tent that night.”

  Her eyebrows went up. “What do you mean by that?”

  Logan realized that he was about to take a serious step, if things could get any more serious then they already were.

  “I went to the portable toilet in the middle of the night early on. When I came out, I saw someone go into Dameron's tent. I sneaked over and listened. They were having sex. It was Mandi.”

  She held up her hand, frowning. “That's enough of that. I don't want to hear it. All that will get you is disbelief from the committee, unless, of course, you can somehow prove it beyond a shadow of a doubt. Right now all it sounds like is a stupid attempt to get revenge. Besides, even though it's against policy, the two are adults and capable of making their own choices.”

  He shook his head, mutely, but then added, “It's still going on. It's pretty obvious.”

  “Dameron might not be my favorite person, but he takes his job seriously. I can't believe he'd ever violate
university policy in that way. Besides, he's happily married; been married since before he was hired here. You'd better just forget about making that kind of accusation, Mister,” she continued.

  He answered, “Well, I was just thinking that might account for him not liking me.”

  “Yes, if it were true, but I don't believe it could be. I'm going to try and forget what you said. My advice to you is to carefully prepare your statement for the ethics committee. It won't meet until after the second summer session. Since you've been formally accused of a serious violation, you won't be allowed to enroll until the hearing is resolved, and then, most likely, only if it's resolved in your favor.”

  She asked, “Do you have a job? You should at least put the next six weeks to good use.”

  Logan didn't want to make her any angrier, so he clamped down on his emotions about the accusation and the unfairness of it all.

  “No job, and I don't even have a place to stay right now. I'd planned to be staying at the dig all summer, so I gave up my apartment. My roommates have all moved in with other people or gone home. Uh...maybe I could go to my Dad's place over in Ormond Beach. I could probably stay with him for a while and maybe he'd help me find something to do.”

  She nodded and said, “That's a good idea. Go and do that, and stay away from Professor Dameron and the department. Prepare your statement, and then be back here on August 23 for the hearing. It will be in the admin building. I don't know the scheduled time yet. You call me in a couple of weeks. I'll probably know then. Now I've got to go. My husband is expecting me home so we can go out to dinner.” rd

  She stood up and began to gather her things.

  Logan turned and slowly walked out, his shoulders drooping. He stopped, looking back, as she shut her office door. She headed the other way without a backward glance.

  An hour later, he was well on the way to Ormond Beach. Despite the pleasure of the wind on his face, Logan was in a bad frame of mind.

  No one believed him. It was just his luck to think he had a chance only to have it jerked away. He didn't really want to see his dad. They hadn't been close since his mother...his mind shied away from the circumstances of her death, but then it circled around again, and he was filled with the same old sense of remorse.

  He'd been there. He'd known she was depressed. He hadn't known she had those damned pills, though. If he had, maybe he could have stolen them or something, but what could a ten year old really do? He always ended up by trying to find solace by excusing himself for his age and inexperience at the time. It was poor comfort, though.

  He swerved narrowly missing a messily dead armadillo, crushed by some traffic just ahead. His heart raced with the adrenaline released by the sudden alarm.

  he thought. Maybe I'd better just concentrate on riding,

  He watched the road carefully for any other obstacles, but within a mile, his mind turned back to his parents. Why had the two divorced? He suspected their basic disagreement was over money. The two had always argued about that. His father had never been able to keep a job for long.

  That was one of the reasons the trust had been formed. His grandfather didn't approve of his daughter marrying William Walker, and wanted to make sure he wouldn't benefit from the estate.

  Logan shook his head in denial. He could understand it. His mother had never shown a great deal of strength. She'd almost always acceded to his father's demands, except for the one time she found enough strength to leave him and his abuse behind. She'd told Logan that her father knew she'd never be able to keep the money away from William.

  Logan knew she was right. It had been a mess. He'd been an emotional wreck for years. Then an insight struck him. He was still a wreck. It was easy to see that his interest in gaming was some kind of escape attempt. Somehow he still felt responsible for the divorce, and for her death.

  The traffic slowed, and he closed in on the pickup ahead of him, trying to peer around the high four-wheeler to see what the hang-up was. He grimaced. More road-kill.

  A semi had hit a large alligator that was crossing the road in a swampy area. The truck had bounced, but never slowed.

  The cars were now swerving around the deceased creature with the occupants looking curiously at it.

  When the pickup ahead of him drew near the carcass, it slowed, and pulled onto the shoulder. The passenger, a heavy-set, bald-headed guy in overalls, jumped out, and headed quickly towards the alligator, a large knife in his hand. Logan flinched before he realized the man was after the skin.

  The idea of skinning something made him feel nauseated. Despite finding the buried knife, and feeling something of a sense of ownership for the discovery, he really didn't like knives. They were too sharp and his mind shied away from the idea of getting cut.

  He didn't even like kitchen knives. His roommates were always leaving long, sharp ones lying around where they'd been fixing something in the kitchen. Logan had taken to wiping them with a damp rag without actually picking them up. He'd wipe one side, turn the thing over, wipe the other side, and then gingerly pick up the handle with two fingers to restore the implement to its proper place in the drawer.

  He swerved as far away from the man and knife as he could. Once past, he accelerated away at the old bike's best speed.

  Some time later, he pulled into his dad's driveway. The pickup wasn't there and it looked like his father wasn't home yet.

  Logan rang the bell, but there was no answer. Turning, he sat on the front step and considered his situation.

  The hearing would be in seven weeks. He was effectively banned from returning to school for the second summer session, and it was too late to enroll in any other local school, even if there was a course which would be transferable and which would count towards his degree. So, it seemed his best alternative would be to get a job, work, and save up some money that could supplement the paltry funding from the trust.

  As he considered his grades, he gradually came to the conclusion that he wasn't totally academically incompetent. He wasn't stupid. After all, he'd mastered Alien Slayers rather quickly. It was just that last level that was holding him up, and as far as he could determine the coders had cheated, making it almost impossible to beat.

  He shook his head. His mind was wandering. He understood all of the class materials; he just didn't care much about it, which meant that he'd been disinclined to memorize the facts needed to test well. Perhaps if he spent his evenings reading some of his old textbooks, he could rectify that gap. He didn't know if that would help, but he decided to try.

  His father still hadn't shown up, so he climbed back on his bike and motored over to a fast-food place, got a burger, fries, and a drink, then came back about thirty minutes later. His dad's roofing truck was in the driveway when he turned in.

  Logan's father, William, was happy to see him when he answered the door. “Hey! Look what the cat drug in. I'm glad to see ya, boy. Are ya here for the weekend or what?” he said.

  Logan grinned at his dad's enthusiasm. “I'm glad to see you too. I'm taking the next session off. I gave up my apartment to save money, my plans changed, and now I don't have anywhere to stay until the fall session starts,” he answered.

  His dad hugged him, and said, “Great. I'm short-handed. I can use you. I've got jobs lined up for the next three months. The rains have slowed things a lot, so I'm backed-up. One of my guys quit, and I had to fire another. He kept showing up high. Idiot almost dumped a bundle of shingles on my head. I mean he dropped it off the roof and it grazed me as it came down. High on your own time is one thing. High when you're working on a roof is another.”

  Logan shook his head in sympathy. Being hit by a full bundle of shingles would have probably broken his father's neck. “Yeah, I can see how that would be a problem,” he said .

  His father seemingly forgot about the problem as he continued, “You can have the spare bedroom. Hope ya don't mind a little partying. I've got some friends that show up now and then. Drink a little beer, maybe smoke a bit. La
rry will probably show up around suppertime. We're going to fire up the grill and cook some burgers.”

  “No, that's alright with me. I'm just happy that you've got a place for me. I can use the work, too. Just go easy on me for a couple of days until I get broke in again,” Logan said. He'd worked a little with his dad before and knew what a strain it was adapting to the heat and labor.

  “You haven't been doing enough at school, have you?” his dad asked.

  Logan responded by showing his callouses. “Well, I actually have been working pretty hard on an archaeological dig. I've shoveled a lot of sand out in the full sun. I just haven't had to carry heavy loads up a ladder.”