‘The great, the great Ptolemy, true, says nothing of the Southern hemisphere.’ Dr Fred coughed. ‘Why? Because it’s not important.’
‘But—’
‘Kindly let me finish? You see, all great civilizations began North of the Equator. Babylon, Egypt, China, India, Aztec Mexico, Rome — all Northern places. I’m glad you brought this up, Lyle, because—’
But the bell prevented further development of this, Dr Fred’s favourite theory: that Northernness was a necessary precondition of civilization. The cause, he felt, was magnetism: just being closer to the North Pole seemed somehow to elevate human brain waves to produce higher thoughts. Without this magnetic boost, man remained primitive and uncreative. Thus the Southern hemisphere produced crude mud huts instead of great cathedrals; witch doctors instead of penicillin; wooden gods instead of philosophy; cannibals instead of vegetarians; boomerangs instead of ICBMs — though perhaps he would not develop his theory quite that far.
‘Before you go,’ he shouted over the sound of slamming books, ‘I have your practice horoscopes marked and corrected here. I’ll leave them on the table, you can pick them up on your way out. Not bad, most of them, though I suppose you all ignored my hint and used computers.’ He slapped down the pile of papers and buttoned his overcoat, glad as any student to be getting out of here, to be clearing his mental decks for some real action.
Now, on to Disney Hall, to see this Professor Rogers who seemed to think robots were such a grand idea. Like all the other so-called professors around here, Rogers was probably just another brainless young nincompoop with a fancy degree and no experience of life. Dr Fred hadn’t lived nearly 915 lunations without learning a few hard facts, and he meant to impart them to this Rogers fellow right now: you can’t cram a human brain — the highest form of creation — into a metal box! No sir!
Bill something, his name was, a real jerk, a zero. He sat next to Dora in Intro Astrol, where she’d noticed his notes for the entire hour:
Now he was only following her into the corridor. God, he wanted to talk about his horoscope. What could she do but nod and smile, and meanwhile watch the passing faces hoping to spot a friend? You couldn’t just put someone down, even a zero like this.
‘Jeez, I failed,’ he began. ‘An F, and I mean’
‘How could you get an F? We all got Cs, he gave everybody a C. Because we all used computers, what happened to you?’
‘I used a computer, too. Jeez, it must of gone wrong or something, look, he changed everything. Like I didn’t get a single one of my planets right or nothing — Jeez!’ He showed her the birth chart, covered with red marks. ‘And here he says “It’s very important for the would-be astrologer to be able to erect his own birth chart. Note that your Sun opposes Pluto. With the Moon conjunct Mars in –” Anyway, he says I oughta beware of explosives and accidents.’
‘Uh-huh.’ She looked away. Little old Dr Fred came out of the classroom and pottered off down the corridor, mumbling to himself.
Jeez, all that math and stuff, it’s not fair.’
‘Uh-huh.’
‘I mean this is supposed to be a snap course. I’m already flunking Business Appreciation and Applied Ethics from last term, this was my big hope, this and Contemp Humanities. But I mean I’m doing terrible, I’m pulling down the grade point average for the whole fraternity.’
Fraternity. She swallowed a yawn. No one went by but Muza, she wasn’t speaking to him, he was another zero. Good-looking guy, but all he did was bellow about political prisoners in his homeland. Big deal, most people couldn’t even find Ruritania on a map, he still expected her to stand around while he bellowed bad breath in her face, well no thanks. Thanks but non merci. And now Mr Zero here, what was he saying?
‘…only pledged me because my old lady’s on the faculty, they figured I had to be a brain or something, boy, were they wrong. And otherwise nobody would even notice me because…’
Because you’re a zero. ‘I’m thinking of cancelling Intro Astrol myself. I’m not getting much out of it, with this Dr Fred, he’s kind of a, a zero, know what I mean? I mean—’
‘All this friggin’ math and stuff—’
‘The math’s easy, only with him that’s all it is, I’m not interested in just signs and numbers.’ Still no rescuer in sight. ‘What I’m interested in, au fond, is people. You know?’
He nodded, dull eyes still on his birth chart. ‘I might as well give up,’ he said. ‘I even thought of playing Russian roulette…’
‘Uh-huh’ Wasn’t that Allbright by the bulletin board?
‘…dead now if I wasn’t waiting for my grades in Contemp Humanities, it’s like my last chance…’
She felt like saying something reassuring, a spontaneous Kind Word to buck him up, even for a moment. ‘You probably did all right in that, I wouldn’t worry. I had it last year, nobody failed. How do you think you did in the final?’
The zero actually grinned. ‘Hey, you know I got lucky there on that one question, the one on Tolkien. I didn’t even know he was on the syllabus, you know? Only it just so happened I was reading Lord of the Rings the week before and—’
Allbright seemed to be alone as he’d been alone at that awful party where she’d caught him stealing books from the host. Of course poets who wore railroad work clothes had a different morality, she realized that now. ‘Tolkien? Tolkien was never on the syllab — Look, I’ve got to go.’
‘Wait, sure he was. I remember the question: discuss humour in Lord of the Rings comparing Mark Twain and contrasting—’
‘Just seen a friend, gotta go. Auvoir, uh, Bill.’ She took a step towards Allbright and turned back. ‘You musta misread that question, you know? It was Ring Lardner.’
And she was gone, her orange coat moving off to become one spot in the jiggling kaleidoscope of coats and caps and mufflers crowding their colours towards the bulletin board. Bill Hannah lost sight of her before he could even ask who wrote Ring Lardner, Jeez.
Ben Franklin lit another cigarette and settled back in one of Fong’s creaky Morris chairs. ‘Looks like a Daddy Longlegs to me. Sort of. Must have been quite a scrap.’
‘Scrap? No, he wasn’t even — look, I just lost my temper, that’s all. Just got sick and tired of Rogers and his significant questions, that’s all. His, always hanging around like some kind of — science groupie.’
‘Wish I’d been here, though. Kind of an historic moment. Like Luther flinging his inkpot at the devil, a performance not to be missed.’ Ben smoothed his perfectly even moustache and performed a smile. ‘Know how you feel, though. Felt like heaving a handball at him yesterday myself, he started all that crap with me. Hubris, Christ he can’t even pronounce it… I lent him a book instead, Learning Systems. Figured if he could read a little, sort of slip sideways into some kind of understanding of what we’re doing here — not that he’ll open it. Doubt if he’s read anything since his own dissertation, probably had to look up half the words in that.’
Fong’s red-rimmed eyes gleamed behind the gleam of his glasses. ‘You loaned him that? But I was, I—’
‘Your copy, as a matter of fact. I borrowed it last week.’
‘But I, if I’d known — this whole scene was pointless, I—’
‘Sure.’ Ben was studying the door again, readying another perfect, even smile. ‘Could be a study for an action painting, too. Probably how the whole thing started, exorcism: take that, Daddy Longlegs! Yes sir, when an irresistible force such as you, meets an old immovable Rogers — but hell, Fong, we needed his vote.’