The Edge of the Knife
Page 2
beganagain on an obviously changed subject. The word had gotten around,apparently. Handley, the head of the Latin Department, greeted himwith a distantly polite nod. Pompous old owl; regarded himself, forsome reason, as a sort of unofficial Dean of the Faculty. Probablydidn't want to be seen fraternizing with controversial characters.One of the younger men, with a thin face and a mop of unruly hair,advanced to meet him as he came in, as cordial as Handley was remote.
"Oh, hello, Ed!" he greeted, clapping a hand on Chalmers' shoulder. "Iwas hoping I'd run into you. Can you have dinner with us thisevening?" He was sincere.
"Well, thanks, Leonard. I'd like to, but I have a lot of work. Couldyou give me a rain-check?"
"Oh, surely. My wife was wishing you'd come around, but I know how itis. Some other evening?"
"Yes, indeed." He guided Fitch toward the dining-room door and noddedtoward a table. "This doesn't look too crowded; let's sit here."
After lunch, he stopped in at his office. Marjorie Fenner was there,taking dictation from Pottgeiter; she nodded to him as he entered, butshe had no summons to the president's office.
* * * * *
The summons was waiting for him, the next morning, when he entered theoffice after Modern History IV, a few minutes past ten.
"Doctor Whitburn just phoned," Marjorie said. "He'd like to see you,as soon as you have a vacant period."
"Which means right away. I shan't keep him waiting."
She started to say something, swallowed it, and then asked if heneeded anything typed up for General European II.
"No, I have everything ready." He pocketed the pipe he had filled onentering, and went out.
* * * * *
The president of Blanley College sat hunched forward at his desk; hehad rounded shoulders and round, pudgy fists and a round, bald head.He seemed to be expecting his visitor to stand at attention in frontof him. Chalmers got the pipe out of his pocket, sat down in thedesk-side chair, and snapped his lighter.
"Good morning, Doctor Whitburn," he said very pleasantly.
Whitburn's scowl deepened. "I hope I don't have to tell you why Iwanted to see you," he began.
"I have an idea." Chalmers puffed until the pipe was drawingsatisfactorily. "It might help you get started if you did, though."
"I don't suppose, at that, that you realize the full effect of yourperformance, yesterday morning, in Modern History Four," Whitburnreplied. "I don't suppose you know, for instance, that I had tointervene at the last moment and suppress an editorial in the _Blackand Green_, derisively critical of you and your teaching methods, and,by implication, of the administration of this college. You didn't hearabout that, did you? No, living as you do in the future, youwouldn't."
"If the students who edit the _Black and Green_ are dissatisfied withanything here, I'd imagine they ought to say so," Chalmers commented."Isn't that what they teach in the journalism classes, that thepurpose of journalism is to speak for the dissatisfied? Why makeexception?"
"I should think you'd be grateful to me for trying to keep yourbehavior from being made a subject of public ridicule among yourstudents. Why, this editorial which I suppressed actually went so faras to question your sanity!"
"I should suppose it might have sounded a good deal like that, tothem. Of course, I have been preoccupied, lately, with an imaginativeprojection of present trends into the future. I'll quite freely admitthat I should have kept my extracurricular work separate from myclass and lecture work, but...."
"That's no excuse, even if I were sure it were true! What you did,while engaged in the serious teaching of history, was to indulge in afarrago of nonsense, obvious as such to any child, and damage not onlyyour own standing with your class but the standing of Blanley Collegeas well. Doctor Chalmers, if this were the first incident of the kindit would be bad enough, but it isn't. You've done things like thisbefore, and I've warned you before. I assumed, then, that you weremerely showing the effects of overwork, and I offered you a vacation,which you refused to take. Well, this is the limit. I'm compelled torequest your immediate resignation."
Chalmers laughed. "A moment ago, you accused me of living in thefuture. It seems you're living in the past. Evidently you haven'theard about the Higher Education Faculty Tenure Act of 1963, or suchthings as tenure-contracts. Well, for your information, I have one;you signed it yourself, in case you've forgotten. If you want myresignation, you'll have to show cause, in a court of law, why mycontract should be voided, and I don't think a slip of the tongue isa reason for voiding a contract that any court would accept."
Whitburn's face reddened. "You don't, don't you? Well, maybe it isn't,but insanity is. It's a very good reason for voiding a contractvoidable on grounds of unfitness or incapacity to teach."
He had been expecting, and mentally shrinking from, just that. Nowthat it was out, however, he felt relieved. He gave another shortlaugh.
"You're willing to go into open court, covered by reporters frompapers you can't control as you do this student sheet here, andtestify that for the past twelve years you've had an insane professoron your faculty?"
"You're.... You're trying to blackmail me?" Whitburn demanded, halfrising.
"It isn't blackmail to tell a man that a bomb he's going to throw willblow up in his hand." Chalmers glanced quickly at his watch. "Now,Doctor Whitburn, if you have nothing further to discuss, I have aclass in a few minutes. If you'll excuse me...."
He rose. For a moment, he stood facing Whitburn; when the collegepresident said nothing, he inclined his head politely and turned,going out.
Whitburn's secretary gave the impression of having seated herselfhastily at her desk the second before he opened the door. She watchedhim, round-eyed, as he went out into the hall.
He reached his own office ten minutes before time for the next class.Marjorie was typing something for Pottgeiter; he merely nodded to her,and picked up the phone. The call would have to go through the schoolexchange, and he had a suspicion that Whitburn kept a check on outsidecalls. That might not hurt any, he thought, dialing a number.
"Attorney Weill's office," the girl who answered said.
"Edward Chalmers. Is Mr. Weill in?"
She'd find out. He was; he answered in a few seconds.
"Hello, Stanly; Ed Chalmers. I think I'm going to need a little help.I'm having some trouble with President Whitburn, here at the college.A matter involving the validity of my tenure-contract. I don't want togo into it over this line. Have you anything on for lunch?"
"No, I haven't. When and where?" the lawyer asked.
He thought for a moment. Nowhere too close the campus, but not too faraway.
"How about the Continental; Fontainbleu Room? Say twelve-fifteen."
"That'll be all right. Be seeing you."
Marjorie looked at him curiously as he gathered up the things heneeded for the next class.
* * * * *
Stanly Weill had a thin dark-eyed face. He was frowning as he set downhis coffee-cup.
"Ed, you ought to know better than to try to kid your lawyer," hesaid. "You say Whitburn's trying to force you to resign. With yourcontract, he can't do that, not without good and sufficient cause, andunder the Faculty Tenure Law, that means something just an inch shortof murder in the first degree. Now, what's Whitburn got on you?"
Beat around the bush and try to build a background, or come out withit at once and fill in the details afterward? He debated mentally fora moment, then decided upon the latter course.
"Well, it happens that I have the ability to prehend future events. Ican, by concentrating, bring into my mind the history of the world, atleast in general outline, for the next five thousand years. Whitburnthinks I'm crazy, mainly because I get confused at times and forgetthat something I know about hasn't happened yet."
Weill snatched the cigarette from his mouth to keep from swallowingit. As it was, he choked on a mouthful of smoke and coughed violently,then sat back in the bo
oth-seat, staring speechlessly.
"It started a little over three years ago," Chalmers continued. "Justafter New Year's, 1970. I was getting up a series of seminars for someof my postgraduate students on extrapolation of present social andpolitical trends to the middle of the next century, and I began tofind that I was getting some very fixed and definite ideas of what theworld of 2050 to 2070 would be like. Completely unified world,abolition of all national states under a single world sovereignty,colonies on Mars and Venus, that sort of thing. Some of these ideasdidn't seem quite