Simon yawned and climbed the stairs to the faculty offices. Bright sunlight streamed through the windows, gleaming off the tiles and the metal railings.
“Hey, man.”
Simon whirled, his heart climbing into his throat. For an instant he expected to see the winged creature standing behind him, fires burning in its eyes, iron claws reaching for his face…
Instead he saw Rod, the pimpled student worker who cleaned the stairwells. He had taken one of Simon's Intro to Western Civilization classes. “Oh. Hi. You startled me.”
Rod grinned. “You look like crap, Instructor.”
Simon laughed, his voice brittle. “Then I’m improving.”
Rod grinned again. “Man. You really need to get some sleep.”
Simon forced a smile. “It’s the truth. Take it easy.”
“Will do. Advice you might want to follow yourself.”
Simon nodded and opened the fifth floor door. A long hallway stretched to the far side of the building. Simon walked down the hall until he came to office 539. A little plaque bore Dr. Heloise Francis’s name in gold lettering. Simon raised his hand and knocked.
A door slammed. Simon flinched, expecting to see that winged thing standing behind him. Instead a man in brown suit with tweed patches on the elbows stepped into the hallway, a newspaper under his arm. On his way to the bathroom, no doubt
“Simon?”
An elderly woman in jeans, white blouse, and a leather vest stood in the office door. Her iron-gray hair hung in a thick braid over her shoulder. “Ah…Dr. Francis.”
“Good to see you, Simon. Did I startle you? Well, come in, come in! I’ve been expecting you.” A shrill whistle sounded. “Tea’s ready. Sit down, I’ll be with you soon.” She hurried to the window. A hotplate perched on the sill, a white teapot sitting on its surface.
Simon eased into the office and shut the door behind him. The smell of old books, paper, and ink filled his nostrils. Bookshelves crammed to overflowing lined all four walls of the office. Stacked books, files, and papers covered the floor. Dr. Francis’s desk rested in the corner, buried beneath even more books and papers. Her guest chair held a translation of Josephus, a Greek-English dictionary, and a thick stack of handwritten notes.
“Just put those on the floor,” said Dr. Francis, fiddling with the teapot.
Simon obeyed and settled into the chair. His eyes wandered over the volumes on the shelves. The woman had a huge library, and thousands more books crammed into her small house.
He felt comfortable here. Safe, even.
Despite the things he had seen last night.
“Ah, there we go,” said Dr. Francis. She opened a drawer and pulled out a pair of green teacups. “Tea?”
“Sure.” Simon ran a hand through his hair. Dr. Francis brewed good tea. Perhaps it would help settle his nerves.
Dr. Francis handed him a cup, and Simon began sipping at the hot tea. She watched him over the rim of her cup, her gray eyes glinting.
“Simon.”
Simon set his cup down. “Yes, ma’am?”
“You really look dreadful.”
Simon grimaced. “Thank you.”
“I’m quite serious,” said Dr. Francis. “You look like you’ve been under a lot of stress.”
Simon blinked. Dr. Francis had no idea. “I suppose I have. Finals are coming up, and I’ve been spending a lot of time studying. And I’ve got a lot going on at my new job.”
“Congratulations are in order for that, I suppose.” Dr. Francis set down her cup. “Still, I’m not entirely sure I approve.”
“Why not?” said Simon. “Almost all the doctoral candidates my age have full-time work. I’ve been bouncing from part-time job to part-time job for years. This job is a godsend.”
“Senator Wycliffe does not seem like an honest man,” said Dr. Francis.
“He’s a politician,” said Simon. He brushed away thoughts of Conmager and the winged thing. “It’s to be expected.”
“Granted,” said Dr. Francis. “But even for a politician, he seems crooked.”
“A lot of that is just rumors because of that scandal with his predecessor,” said Simon. “And don’t you always tell me that a historian is supposed to sift rumor from fact?”
Dr. Francis chuckled. “True enough.”
“Besides,” said Simon. “Wycliffe is a politician. He’s undoubtedly done something unethical at some point.” Conmager flashed through his thoughts. “But so what? If I still worked at the convenience store, I’d have to sell cigarettes and pornography. Is that ethical? Not to mention the health code violations there, especially in the restroom.” He shuddered. “Those things were vile.”
Dr. Francis smiled. “Wait till you visit Turkey someday. Then you’ll see a frightening public restroom.”
“My point is, almost any corporation I could work for would have done something illegal and unethical at some point. Am I suppose to live in a hut in the woods just because every company I might work for did something evil at some point?”
Dr. Francis shrugged. “I suppose not. You have a point. Still, if you really want to get into the debate between individual and collective ethical responsibility, go down to the philosophy department. They’ll explain it.”
“Ad nauseum,” said Simon
“What do you think of Wycliffe’s political position?” said Dr. Francis. “He seems very hard-line on some things.”
Simon shrugged. “I consider myself apolitical.”
“Well, if you’re comfortable with the job, and it works for you, who am I to gainsay it? It’s not my job to run your life. It is my job, however, to oversee your studies.” She took another sip of tea. “This will not interfere with your finals, I hope?”
“No!” said Simon. “I’ve spent too much time and effort to drop the ball now.”
“Good to hear,” said Dr. Francis. “Speaking of which, I finally read your dissertation outline.”
Simon sat up straighter. “And?”
“Very good,” said Dr. Francis. “I think you really have something here. How much of your research do you have done?”
“Most of it,” said Simon. “I still need to read four or five books and a stack of journal articles. Another month, I think, and I’ll be ready to start.” He grinned. “I have something like five thousand notecards and four hundred books in my room. I don’t think it’ll take me too long to write. I know precisely what I want to say, more or less, and how to say it. I just need to get it down on paper.”
“Good,” said Dr. Francis. “I want you to develop this further. You have the makings of a very good book. There’s a lot out there on Rome and the Romans, certainly, but less than you’d think on the common soldiers. How did they live, what did they eat, what did they want from life? You’ll address quite a few of those questions, if your dissertation goes the way you plan.”
“Thank you,” said Simon.
Dr. Francis smiled. “And I’ve a bit more good news.”
Simon frowned. “Oh?”
“I’ve been having some discussions with the department chair,” said Dr. Francis. “If you want it, there’s a part-time teaching position open for you fall semester.”
Simon almost fell out of his chair. “What?”
“Two Western Civilization intro classes,” said Dr. Francis. “And after your dissertation is finished, and if they like what they see, they’ll offer to make you full-time faculty.”
“Really?” said Simon.
Dr. Francis smiled. “Yes. Really. It’s a good opportunity. You said Senator Wycliffe is flexible? This well mesh well with your other job and your dissertation.”
“Of course I’ll do it!” said Simon, excitement drowning out his fear and his exhaustion. “I mean…why wouldn’t I?”
“I’ll tell the appropriate people,” said Dr. Francis. “You should get an official letter and that other bureaucratic nonsense in the mail in a few weeks.”
“Thank you,” said Simon. “For everything.”
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The news was so good that Simon almost forgot the things he had seen last night.
Almost.
Dr. Francis smiled. “Are you sure you’re okay, Simon? There’s something else bothering you, I think.”
Simon’s excitement crumpled beneath the weight of last night’s memories. How could he tell that to Dr. Francis? She would think he was on drugs.
So he went for the other topic on his mind. “I…well…I…sort of have a woman in my life. Sort of.”
Dr. Francis raised an iron-gray eyebrow. “Sort of?”
“She’s the database administrator at Wycliffe Consolidated Shipping. We have nothing in common. She’s arrogant…”
Dr. Francis’s eyebrows climbed higher. “Nothing in common?”
Simon grimaced. “She’s…ah, I don’t know. She is who she is.”
“Profound words, indeed,” said Dr. Francis. “These things sort themselves out in time.”
Again the creature flashed through Simon’s mind. “I hope you’re right, ma’am. I really do.”
“That's all we need to discuss for now,” said Dr. Francis. “You’ve been doing well, Simon. Keep up the good work. You’re almost finished.”
“Thank you.” Simon left, shutting the door behind him.
###