So it was, that by their first year at Queens University, Len was already on the road to becoming a computer engineer. Besides the modules required of first year students, he managed to slip in a few in computer science.
And Les still couldn't decide, though he'd practically memorise the course description catalogue. He'd probably settle on something like rocket engineering or astronomy.
Because of some dreams he had when he was much younger, astronomy had become a hobby. Dad had bought him a telescope for his eleventh birthday, but his interest was up and down. He'd go through phases, from being so taken up with it that he'd attempt to look at the stars on cloudy nights, to being thoroughly bored with it.
Even now, it was sort of interesting to leaf through books of space photos from various observatories, but he knew he'd probably tire of it quickly as a course of study.
He browsed the descriptions of various listings under science until he got thoroughly fed up, then flipped to the section on music history, then literature, then religion...
What about studying for holy orders?
Nah...
He threw the catalogue into his bag. Thinking about it wasn't getting him any closer to a career choice.
If it weren't for the choices he was expected to make, life was okay. His grades were acceptable, but that was probably because he didn't have many distractions. He mostly kept to himself. Yet, he knew he could do much better if he only tried harder.
He did have a circle of friends, but they were too much alike to be of any motivation for one another. None of them liked being pushed about, and weren't the type to push. They were just friends by virtue of being thrown together, and not minding it -- the type that would watch one another's life go down the tubes, and not say a word. Their favourite group activity was to sit and chat in the canteen, or in the students' lounge, or go out for a pint. He had friends like this in secondary as well. They were his best friends at the time, but they forgot one another almost as soon as they parted ways.
Then, there was another set of friends before that -- not too far from here, actually...
* * *
It was just far enough from where most of the troubles happened, to not be involved if one didn't want to be, and yet close enough, if one did. Unfortunately, it was thought great sport by some in their circle of friends to go further into it than their families were comfortable with.
Les and Len's father, Mic Armstrong, just wanted to live as peaceful a life as could be had in South Belfast. There, Catholics and Protestants didn't mind one another's presence in the same neighbourhood. They were free to realise the futility of the strife that had plagued their city -- that is those who had lived through too much of it. There was still the sentiment among those with Nationalist sympathies: 'We're Irish, why can't we be a part of Ireland?'; and that of the Loyalists: 'Greater stability and a better deal under the British'. Political opinion differed to be sure, and often they felt free to discuss it.
That's the point. Too close to Falls and Shankhill roads, one couldn't -- not without getting oneself into a brawl. There, hatred was so thick that young people got involved in the cause because it was their life -- they killed Uncle Freddie, or they marched the Orangemen right through our block of flats, or they burnt down our pub.
In South Belfast, at least in the neighbourhood where the O'Flaghertys lived, the local pub was a safe haven for both Loyalists and Nationalists. Apart from the occasional heated discussion, people generally respected one another's opinions, and maintained the old Irish quality of looking on the bright side of things.
The older folks did, anyway. The young people, often on a lark, would venture a bit further.
At school, most of the students didn't care what religion their friends followed. Les and Len didn't either at first. As time went on, however, they found themselves gravitating towards the 'cool' crowd. It so happened that everyone in this particular clique were Catholic, like them.
To be 'cool', one had to prove oneself. Opportunities for that were presenting themselves more and more strikingly by the day.
At first, it just meant attending a rally or a march. As the demand to be daring increased, it meant shouting Nationalist slogans while walking past Loyalist pubs. Then, as the times changed, more ways presented themselves. That was about the time of the hunger strikes by IRA inmates in the British penal system, demanding status as political prisoners, climaxing in the death of Bobbie Sands. That sparked a lot of unrest.
Barricades and checkpoints manned with British soldiers were springing up in new locations. Those with Nationalist sympathies were saying, 'In my country?', while the Unionist line was, 'It's the only solution.'
Arguments were more frequent than ever down at the local pub near the O'Flaghertys. Once, a fist fight may have almost broken out, but the reports were conflicting (one said, the man swung but missed, and another insisted he was simply shaking his fist to make a point).
A few fights did break out at the school. Len was involved in one. Of the two, he tended to get more worked up.
Now, it was no longer just to be 'cool' that the twins got involved, but it was the anger they shared in common with their Roman Catholic school mates.
Instead of shouting slogans, it was things like throwing a rock at the next troop carrier they saw, or a fire cracker at a group of soldiers. This got them into trouble on one occasion. Les and Len managed to slip away in time, but their father heard about it through the parents of one who wasn't so fortunate. That night, the twins received a stern lecture.
Whether or not the lecture would have done any good or not, remained forever a mystery. Mic decided then and there that it would be in his family's best interests to accept a job offer that involved a move to the shores of Lough Neagh. His new job was that of office administrator for a sand and gravel company. While nearby Lurgan Town did have its share of the troubles, the fact that Mic's employers and half of the twins new friends were Protestants, rather put a damper on those kinds of activities.
Also, about the time of their move, the loudest voice of their old group was sent away to a school for bad boys, which had a sobering effect on the whole gang of middle class boys. Thus, the cause for Irish liberation became no more than a phase of their growing up.
Actually, for Les, it was a bit more than a phase. He could still work himself into a silent rage over some injustice he heard about, or saw.
His own family name, for instance: back when the British forced the Irish to trade their Gaelic Surnames for English ones, two different clans chose the name 'Armstrong', because the meaning somehow fit their old name. However, none of Les' relatives could be bothered to keep track of which of the two clans they were. The British had stolen his identity, and no one cared!
Then he would remember what he would have done among his old friends, and occasionally wish he had some of them alongside to give him a push. But the older he got, the more pointless it seemed to simply end as cannon fodder. The troubles had to sort themselves out sometime, and when they did, someone had to be around to enjoy life. Never-the-less, that phase of his childhood was something he continued to remember fondly.
For his brother, it was no more than a phase.
Because he was more decisive, Len was always the leader of the two. It was his energy and drive that got them involved with that circle of friends in the first place, but once that was over, it was over. His focus then went to other things -- namely, computers.
* * *
Suddenly a tall, bald-headed stranger walked up to Les' table and said, 'Can I sit here?'
Obviously a foreigner from Europe, by his accent. He had a reddish scar on his forehead that made it look as though he had been branded with a square iron.
'Be my guest,' shrugged Les.
The big man sat down.
'You -- go to school here?' said the man, motioning in the direction of the university.
'Yeah.'
'I've seen you a few tim
es.'
'Oh,' said Les, as if it meant a hill of beans.
There was a pause, while they both looked out the window.
Suddenly the man spoke again. 'Tell me. What do you want to do with your life?'
He simply said it, abruptly, with no apology, and yet, there was something about it that made Les more inclined to answer than to get up and walk away.
'Oh -- er -- I don't know. Maybe physics or something.'
'You have what it takes to go a long way, young man. But physics and astronomy? No future at all!'
Les didn't remember saying 'astronomy.'
'Astronomy is no more than a hobby-horse for people who've spent too much time in book learning, a tool for attracting academic grants, and useful for nothing more than satisfying mankind's idle curiosity. A young man like you should study economics,' he went on. 'Economics is where the future is.'
'Economics? But everyone says computers...'
'Hah! Everybody says! Who do you know who does computers?'
'My brother,' said Les.
'And your brother, does he influence you, or do you tend to influence him?'
'I don't know. I guess, he tends to influence me, more or less -- I mean...'
'Yes, I know. Your brother leads, you follow. He opens the doors for you and in you go. But let me tell you a little secret:' the man said, with an aura of mystique that had Les subconsciously leaning forward for more. 'People who do computers, work for others, not themselves. If you choose economics, you will open doors for him, you will have him eating out of your hand, and you will be the leader.'
'Hmmm!' That would be a refreshing change. Les was fed up with the way Len would always make his decisions for him whenever he was slow on the uptake.
'Now, don't get me wrong. Knowledge of computer is very useful. It will be vital in the field of economics. Therefore, you will find him a useful tool if you play your cards right.'
'B-but -- how do you know so much about me and my brother?' said Les, finally.
'Let's just say I read people, like others read books. But what you must consider carefully is this: I am in the position to recommend an all inclusive scholarship grant for one who study economics as their major field. Reading you, I feel you are one who will go a long way.'
The gentleman placed his card on the table, pushed it towards Les and got up to leave.
Les was interested. For one thing, he knew his dad was having a difficult time keeping both boys in school, and he thought he'd fancy a bit of financial freedom himself. Besides, there was that something about the man that made Les feel as though he knew himself better as a result, and realised what he wanted out of life.
The long and short of it was, Les discovered a latent interest in economics.
Chapter 26
The strange foreigner who walked into the pub that day and pointed Les towards a life of success was named Nicolai Stanovitch. They met several times during the next few weeks and in the end, Les was firmly committed.
Then, on a weekend at home, he told his parents.
He was sure they would be just as overjoyed as he. Instead ...
'Economics?' returned Dad. 'You've never been interested in economics before!'
'It's just that I've never looked into it. I think it's something I could really get my teeth into.'
'But who is this fellow?' said mum.
'Dr. Nicolai Stanovitch -- it says so on the calling card -- of "Asvork Financial Services".'
'But you don't know anything about him,' said Dad. 'He could be a Soviet infiltrator -- with a name like "Stanovitch"!'
'He's not a communist, Dad. He left the Soviet Union to get into business!'
'Is that the whole story? And how do you know so much about him in such a short time? So he offers you a fat grant. How do you know he's not out ta buy your soul?' said Dad.
'Buy my soul! C'mon!'
'Don't tell me this sudden interest in economics has nothin' to do with his pot-o-gold he's offering ya!'
'And what kind of name is "Asvork"?' said mum, still examining the calling card. 'It gives me the shivers! For goodness sake, are there no organisations with nice Irish names giving out scholarships?'
On and on they went. Les wouldn't be convinced that Nicolai Stanovitch was anything less than a kind lover of humanity who had Les' best interests at heart. His parents couldn't bring themselves to see him as anything other than the devil out to buy his soul.
In the end, of course, there was nothing they could do. Dr. Stanovitch was, after all, offering the highest bid.
The following term, Les began with a full curriculum of economics and business courses while his brother took computer science. Having an interest in the subject, fed on a regular basis by Dr. Stanovitch, Les did well in his studies.
At least once a month, whenever he was in town, Dr. Stanovitch would invite Les out for a meal, usually at a posh restaurant. Conversation would cover a range of subjects, all of which Les found stimulating.
One day, they were just finishing a meal at La Belle Epoque, the French restaurant not far from the university. Dr. Stanovitch leaned forward and said, 'Isn't it disgraceful what the British are doing to your country?'
'Yes, indeed!' said Les, and conversation went on about the troubles.
After some talk, the doctor asked, 'Did you ever think of getting in there and voicing your opinion on the streets?'
'When my brother and I were starting secondary school, we got a bit into it that way,' recounted Les.
'What made you stop?'
'I guess it got a bit hot. One of our friends got caught and sent away, and then we moved.'
'And yet, don't you wish you could go in and take part in some decisive action?' said Dr. Stanovitch, with emphasis.
'Yeah, sometimes, but I never really fancied living like a terrorist or anything like that.'
'You are very right to think like that. Many many people with small minds, they make a big splash, yes, but only to become a spot of blood on the pavement. But to be a part of the resistance doesn't always mean toting a machine gun and carrying out assassinations. You can play a big role, wearing a fine suit, mingling with people of wealth and influence, moving large amounts of money badly needed to get the right tools into the right hands to win freedom. You can influence key people in a subtle way so that they don't know they're being influenced.'
'Er -- don't know they're being influenced?' queried Les.
'I will teach you how to do that some time. It's really quite simple, but for now, you must work at your studies and learn the art of finance. That will get you into the right circles. But the other, when the time comes, I'll teach you. Don't worry.'
Now, Les' eyes were opened a bit further. Things about himself that he had almost forgotten were coming to the surface, thanks to Dr. Stanovitch. Things that he knew inside he had always wanted but always had too high a price were suddenly within reach. It wasn't necessary to become a street wise bloke with a killer instinct to benefit the cause. He could do much more as a jet-set financier. Furthermore, it was an attainable goal, thanks to the kind doctor.
With the ever expanding vision and desire, Les excelled in his studies.
It was just as well that he was now getting a scholarship independently of his family, as his dad's finances were getting even more difficult. Now, he was doing all he could just to keep Len in university.
Things went smoothly at home. Hardly any mention was made of Les' source of funds, and everyone looked happy on the surface.
The following year was the last stretch before graduating with a bachelor's degree. Dad was in even more financial straits, especially with the twins' younger sister now entering her first year. It looked like Len would have to drop out of school temporarily and go to work.
After Les mentioned the fact to Dr. Stanovitch, some money mysteriously landed in Len's account at school, and he was told by the finance office that everything was paid up 'til the
end of the term. So he received his Bachelor of Science degree in Information Technology at the same time Les received his in Economics.
That wasn't the end of the road. That same year, Len was persuaded by Les to accept Dr. Stanovitch's offer for a scholarship for two years of graduate school. So far mum and dad hadn't seen anything too unusual in Les that couldn't be attributed to university life. He did remain consistent in his interest in economics. As they were otherwise financially strapped, they resigned themselves to allowing Len, as well as Les to go the two more years, courtesy of Dr. Stanovitch.
Les continued to meet the doctor from time to time, when he was in town. In his second year of graduate school, the doctor began showing him some of his tricks.
The first few amounted to no more than what can be gleaned from Dale Carnegie's How to Win Friends and Influence People, though lacking Carnegie's underlying sincerity.
After that he taught him how to put ideas into people's heads without saying anything. Had Les learned about this a few years back, it would have sounded too spooky, but now he had been primed. He practised a few times on Len, and on a few others. The only one it didn't work on was his mother. Another trick was how to say something in a strong convincing way, so that the listener would be almost helpless to resist. This involved preparing the way by using the other trick, subconsciously priming them, and then saying it just a split second after their own mind had said it. That way, it passed the first mental barrier without any challenge.
Soon, Les was arriving at parties, setting the atmosphere, becoming the centre of attention with little or no apparent effort on his own part, and walking away with just about any girl he happened to fancy.
Things seemed to be going well for Les.
Chapter 27
One day there was a knock at the door to Les' room. To his surprise it was Dr. Stanovitch. This was a first, but so was his demeanour.
'Listen to me. You are to discontinue your partying and carousing. It's affecting your studies.'
'B-but I'm just enjoying myself now and then, and my marks are ...'