Dwarg in the Seventh Dimension : The Aggie Kellor Experience

by Tony Lourensen

CHAPTER TWENTY – JANETTE

  Principal Garner ushered Edna into his office, “Mrs Kellor, this is Ms Janette Conaghan, Vice President of the University of Oklahoma – Janette this is Edna Kellor – Aggie’s aunt.”

  “Pleased to meet you Mrs Kellor, please call me Jan.”

  “Nice to meet you Jan, I’m Edna – what’s all this about? – obviously something to do with Aggie?”

  “Yes Edna, I’ve heard about Aggie’s remarkable talents, especially in the academic field. In a nutshell, I’m getting together a group of students who have special abilities such as Aggie’s. We’ve done this in the past because we found that students with special abilities or very high IQs, became frustrated, even bored, having to be held back in a class according to their age. It’s so unfortunate that we’ve lost many would-be prodigies and talents because the system did not recognize them or provide encouragement. I’m here firstly, to gauge Aggie’s capabilities, and secondly, to offer her an opportunity to join this elite group under the auspices of the OU. All this of course, needs your blessing.”

  Aggie had never mentioned or indicated that she was not happy at school. Edna turned to Principal Garner and asked, “Do you believe Aggie is bored or frustrated here Alan?”

  “Certainly not Edna, she’s a lovely and talented girl, and well liked – but I do have a concern that she may well become so in the next few years. I would hate to see her ‘switch-off’. If she is in a position for accelerated learning, should we keep the brakes on her? Perhaps her potential should be looked at – I’ve heard of other children her age with college degrees. It’s a hard call I know – but if there is an opportunity for Aggie to become a graduate, that could save years of unnecessary schooling.”

  “Of course I’ll have to talk with Aggie about this; after all it’s her call. I’ll tell you both straight up, I don’t feel particularly happy for Aggie to go off into this crazy world just yet, no need to tell you just what she’s been through over the past months and for heaven’s sake, she’s only ten.”

  “Fully understood Edna, but let’s not get ahead of ourselves. All I ask at this stage is to have your permission to make an assessment. Believe me, I’m not looking to exploit children, or put them under a microscope to see why they have special talents - I won’t even go into their family background trying to find clever genes. What I’m all about, is fostering and developing outstanding talents to their fullest and in that, everyone wins. The university has many successful graduates who are now amongst the leading scientists, musicians and masters in the field of art, medicine, philosophy and many other disciplines. I can say, without exception, that every one of them is happy with our programs. We have had children as young as six; receive scholarships to other institutions and academies.”

  “Fine, but what about her social life, her life skills, her home life, would you be putting her into a dorm or something? Oklahoma City isn’t just down the road.”

  “Luckily Edna, we’re in the digital age. We don’t necessarily need the person there all the time – sure, a couple of trips for interaction and hands on purposes, but all in all, it would not be far removed from a child receiving home education. The amount of physical attendance would be entirely up to you and Aggie.”

  “Well as I’ve said, its Aggie’s call,” said Edna, “but one guarantee I’ll demand is for total and absolute secrecy of your interviews and assessment of Aggie. The last thing I want is for her life to be disrupted by the media and nosey-parkers. As her guardian, I’ll pull the plug if I see a cameraman or reporter stalking or sniffing around us.”

  “That’s fair and understandable and you have my word Edna. Would you have any objection if I spoke with Aggie alone, one to one?”

  Edna stifled a little giggle. “Fine with me, you’ll soon see that she’s got quite a character” – wow that was a clever answer, she thought – you, Ms Janette Conaghan, deputy president of the University of Oklahoma, are in for an interesting session.

  The session was into its second hour. Ms Conaghan was nowhere near establishing any level of Aggie’s academic, scientific, general or practical knowledge. She found Aggie’s intellectual faculties to be outstanding and her apperception and reasoning powers, without boundary. Janette was overwhelmed. With a sigh, she asked, “OK, what, Aggie, do you not know?”

  “Ms Conaghan, that is not quite innocens honesta quaestione but I will give you this answer; the God of your belief.”

  “Aggie, I believe in God and His Son Jesus, our saviour. May we talk about it?”

  “If you wish Ms Conaghan, but theology does bore me somewhat. People’s interpretations and conjecture tends to cloud one’s mind. I see that you have a leaning towards the hypothesis of the Merkabah.”

  “Your powers of observation are really impressive Aggie, I’m not wearing the red bracelet, what gave me away? – was it something I said perhaps?”

  “Yes and no. Your briefcase tells me a lot. I saw the small engraving of the two tetrahedrons next to your name, the opal pendant on your necklace, the eighteen measured breaths when we were having a soda half an hour ago and you really miss the security of that red bracelet. As soon as God was mentioned, your hand reached for it - just look where your hand is now.”

  “That’s incredible – please tell me more.”

  “Your parents are Jewish, you’ve been somewhat ostracised because of your conversion to Christianity. You are now in internal conflict because of your own perception of Ezekiel and the metaphoric language of the chapter. You began to question your belief seven years ago.”

  “Can you tell me where all your knowledge comes from Aggie?” – Janette was becoming a little edgy – and uncomfortable.

  “Miss Conaghan, I think you are a wonderful, caring and intelligent person. You accept the concept of higher metaphysical power – so let’s say for me that it’s a God’s gift. You may be aware that the Abenaki also believe in the immortal soul and spirits of ancestors. Belief is not tangible or tactile and to attempt to strip it down in order to find the frame which holds it together, would only become a vexation. Some people can accept, without dissecting. Anyway, if it helps in your assessment, I would not class myself as a prodigious savant. Oh and I suck at music.”

  “Aggie, you obviously know why I’m here, I’m hard pressed to see how my group study program may be of help to you. I can only direct you on a path. You said before you had an interest in earth, sub atomic and astral science and to become a researcher in that field. There are a number of institutions that spring to mind but first we need to go through the red tape to secure qualifications. How do you feel about sitting for examinations and submitting papers?”

  “Bring it on professor.”

  “You’re a brilliant young lady, I really like you and our university would love to back you in your endeavours. Aggie, please, I have to know, ah..about.. what you said about questioning my belief seven years ago...?”

  “Well, you said you joined the University of Oklahoma seven years ago. As we know, one thing special about the OU is that within their History of Science Collection, is the rare and famous book by Camille Flammarion, L'Atmosphere: Météorologie Populaire. You would have read, and possibly studied its history and representation. Page 163 of that book has the picture of the Flammarion Woodcut and this is where your belief of Kabahalla arose and it became your passion. Yet a little doubt lingered and you’ve never been able to dispel its presence and it festers within you. I think you are a really nice person Mrs Conaghan and I do appreciate what you’re going to do for me. May I tell you something very very personal?”

  “Of course Aggie, anything you say will be strictly confidential and I swear I will never tell any of your secrets.”

  “OK, I’m not a medical doctor, but I think the hot flushes and those night sweats you get, will disappear if you commence some HRT. Praying may be good for the soul, but your physician can also help. So when will you show me around the campus?”

  “Er..I..er...I’ll
let you and your aunt know, probably within a month, two at the most – I still have some people to interview. Aggie thank you for talking with me, I really appreciate your views and candor – you delighted and scared me.”

  “Bon voyage Miss, you may need your overcoat – it’s very windy in Buffalo this evening.” Aggie, as she walked out the office, pointed to a portion of a bus ticket sticking out of Jan’s organiser - before Janette’s wide and enquiring eyes were able to blink.

  “Edna, I don’t know what to say. Of course we are interested in her. Of course the full weight of the university will back her. You have one amazing and talented child – you must be so proud. How do you keep up with her?”

  “Tried to do it once and gave up, and yes, she is the most precious thing on this Earth. Have you been crying Jan?”

  “It’s OK, Aggie reminded me of something sad. Looking back on our discussion, I now wonder who was really assessing whom. She seemed to look right into my soul.”

  “I call it the Aggie Kellor Experience” said Edna with a knowing smile.

  “I’ll contact you in due course Edna and we can start thinking out a plan.”

  Ms Janette Conaghan, aged fifty, Vice President of the University of Oklahoma, for the first time in her life, walked into a bar and ordered a rum and cola...“easy on the cola please.”

  Dwarg, of no determinable age, traveller and physical matter from the Aura, revelled inside Aggie knowing that everything was going to plan.

  -oOo-

  Edna was fast becoming Bruce’s best customer. He sold her reams of paper, inks and seven cheap printers thus far. He prompted Edna to get the latest laser/fax/scanner and copier. “This one is wireless and much faster than those squeaky old printers that keep breaking down, and does a lot more. All you need is to replace a cartridge every now and then.” Edna bought it and Bucky installed it.

  Try as he may, Bucky could not convince Edna that she need not copy everything that appeared on the monitor of her computer. Anyway what was all this stuff she was printing off? Pages of calculations, scientific experiments, papers of theories, of history, of astronomy, of chemical analysis – even to Bucky, the local nerd, this stuff was way too nerdy. “Its fine Bucky, it’s all to do with research. Anyway the paper will be recycled and the only waste will be my time and effort.”

  Dwarg did not think of it as a waste. He couldn’t read the screen of her monitor, but he could scan the pages of what her computer printed out. Aggie had simply to put her hand on the page and Dwarg would absorb the information that Edna had downloaded. This had been going on for a few weeks and became a regular feature of a day in the life of the Kellors.

  Moos and Mool were growing fast and forever chasing those chipmunks and squirrels who were deliberately teasing them. On school days, the pups would wait patiently in the early afternoon, looking down the road for the pick-up to come with Edna and Aggie. Even before the dust cloud rose and the noise of the engine could be heard, the dogs would instinctively pick up their ears and start tail wagging, prancing and whelping into the air. Aggie would cuddle them and run around the yard watching them fall over each other in clumsy romps.

  If Aggie saw Lisa across the road, she would wave hello. Besides Scott, Lisa was the happiest person on Earth because, despite all the odds, she was going to have a baby. It would be a spring baby, the perfect season for new life and growth.

  “That was a lovely dinner aunt; you sure have a way of making yummy gravy. I guess we should talk about that scholarship with the UO.”

  “Oh must we Aggie? I just can’t bear to think that you will be off down South again, with strangers and in strange places. There are so many dangerous things in the world and the thought of a ten year old girl out there by herself makes my blood run cold.”

  “I can’t expect you to hold my hand in the classroom aunt, Ms Conaghan said I would be chaperoned every minute, besides, she said that absences wouldn’t be more than two days at a time, and I’ll be staying with her.”

  “She lives by herself in a house on the campus; sometimes she has other kids of her group stay there as well. The university pays for everything and really it’s a great opportunity to get into some serious research and development.”

  “Please don’t grow up too fast Aggie.”

  “I’m only human. Now aunt; another matter – my money – I would like to spend some of it.”

  “Of course sweetheart, may I ask how much and what for?”

  “About fifteen thousand dollars should do it. It’s to pay for our vacation to France the week after next. We’re going to celebrate my graduation from Putney School and I’d like to take you shopping in Paris. We can forget about university and absences and growing too fast, and simply enjoy the sights and sounds of the city of romance. We’ll have a ball and you’ll love it – guaranteed – and it’s my treat.”

  “Mmm..will Dwarg be coming too? – seems I remember some comment a while back about a painting in Paris..?”

  “Oh umm, Dwarg thought you may have forgotten about that. He says he has a mild interest in looking at a Van Gogh painting, but he’s quite sure that you would simply love the place anyway. He says a road trip through rural France is a truly exhilarating experience; the scenery, the people and the history would be wonderful to discover.”

  “If you were to draw a straight line on a map across the world from this house to Europe, you will see that it cuts across rural France. We could see Roman ruins, even those caves where the cavemen drew those wall paintings, the Eiffel Tower, croissants, escargot, the Louvre and country markets that sell so many different types of cheeses, you would not believe.”

  “Whoa there Dwargles, you’re getting Aggie far too excited – give me some time to think about it. That’s very short notice, we have to get passports and stuff, I need a new suitcase, go to get that money out, travellers’ cheques, and the pups. France you say? Darn aeroplanes, darn airports, darn crowds – can’t even speak the lingo.”

  “Je peux parler couramment le francais” said Aggie “I can.”

  “Of course you can sweetie, see that? Not even surprised. I’m getting better at not being shocked by your little revelations. Tell you what; I’ll go for the ride on one condition Aggie.”

  “et ce serait?”

  “You’re a growing girl; eat all the food off your plate.”

  -oOo-

  Anyone not knowing Louis Orrslet just before he died, could be forgiven for seeing this bent old and wheezy man, as a relic from the nineteenth century French slums of Clignancourt. Louis had spent his whole life in Arles and had only once seen Paris; the city that everyone had told him was the centre of the universe. He was a young man then and took up the invitation from the Bureau de la Défense in Paris, for a little of his time - not that he had any choice in the matter – the nation wanted more soldiers.

  Upon his arrival in Paris, he got as far as one hundred metres from the platform at Gare de Austerlitz before he was set upon by four chatty Romas who promptly relieved him of his pouch and valise. Knowing passers-by merely looked on at this naïve youth who innocently enjoyed the attentions of those smiling, miserable gutter rats. They systematically robbed him of all his possessions. The only thing left in his pocket was the paper warrant of travel to the Inspector General’s office in central Paris. This was his introduction to Paris, a bizarre world of bricks and cement, of stink, of expressionless faces and terrifying traffic – he was no more the fresh and optimistic rural lad of a few hours ago, he was penniless, alone and worried for his safety and his future.

  “Flat feet, poor eyesight and I suspect an onset of consumption” said the government official, “no good to us Monsieur Orrslet, go back to your father and attend to the dead in Arles - remain an entrepreneur de pompes funebres, a noble and necessary profession.” With a hard thump, the official stamped a document. “Merci beaucoup for your attendance – here is your certificate of exemption and a travel warrant.” He snap-closed the cover of a f
ile. Again he stamped the cover with “impropres” and pointed his finger to the exit. Louis left and immediately returned to Arles, vowing never to return to the hellhole that was Paris.

  Louis Orrslet was to remain and carry on in his father’s and his grandfather’s funeral parlor. He himself now had a son, Anton, to carry on and become the next generation of undertakers for his beloved town of Arles. Anton, as a young apprentice to his father, assisted in the funeral of his grandfather, whom he loved dearly.

  Anton Orrslet had absolutely no interest in carrying on with the family tradition. As Louis lay dying, he promised his father that the business would continue – it was a lie – but Louis died peacefully.

  Anton had been well trained since a small child to become a mortician and was adept at his craft. He would keep being a funeral director and keep running the parlor, but only for so long – he had already taken steps to sell the family business. Anton was not overly concerned because Arles now had four funeral businesses and anyway, he was a man of means having sold property in and around the city. His father and grandfather had bought land and houses around the district and as the title had been passed to Anton, the selling off of these assets provided enough money and security to retire at an early age. He would let his small staff carry on running the business in his absences, which were becoming more frequent.

  “There’s an international conference of Morticians next week, which I must attend – It’s vital for this parlor that I keep up to date on practices, problems and necessary information. It’s being held in Las Vegas – I leave next Monday – any concerns?” The staff would never show concern or complain.

  He did actually acquire some interesting information at that convention and spoke with many other morticians. He learnt of some of the different systems of embalming, cosmetizing, new and improved chemicals, family grief counseling, marketing and selling the product (in particular, getting people to prepay for their own funeral), and the art of presenting a suitable theme at the service.

  What Anton had to offer the people of Arles, was still the old fashioned, straight forward funeral, and to him it was quite adequate – he did not want a larger enterprise. The trip to Las Vegas did however, prove profitable - he had won $7000 on a single slot machine, and left the land of hope and glory with $5000 extra in his pocket ($2000 was taken by the greedy Nevada tax man).

  Back at the parlor, an official letter was waiting for Anton. In essence, it was to inform him that his business property at Rue Barbes was, amongst others, listed as being on a proposed order of reclamation by the government within nine months. His premises lay directly over historical Roman ruins and the area was to be classified as Preserver Nationale. Heavy restrictions would be applied to any future proposed minor building work, renovations or even gardening.

  He was invited to lodge appeals and objections and the letter gave contact details of various historical, heritage and national bodies. Details of compensation would be assessed in due course.

  Anton was overjoyed, and was hard pressed to stop himself from smiling in front of his staff, who were already aware of the bad news.

  He told them to prepare to seek employment elsewhere after six months - beyond that; the Orrslet Funeral Home, a family institution of many generations of Orrslets, would be closed forever.