Archive for November, 2009
Explained: Parents
Thursday, November 12th, 2009
“When I brought home my history test the other day, I thought my dad was going to kill me,” John said.
His friend Sunil just shook his head. “I know, seriously. My stepdad was the same way when he found out I flunked math.”
“He just keeps saying ‘Sixty four! Sixty four!’ like I couldn’t read my own grade–”
“I hate it when they do that.”
“–and he’s practically ripping my head off about it, and I’m like, ‘Give me a break, Dad! There’s more to life than brains!'”
“Whoa, heads up, man! Old Lady Heiserman, twelve o’clock.”
John looked up just in time to see Mrs. Heiserman throw her walker aside and lurch toward him and Sunil. He reached behind him and had to flail around with his hand for few seconds before he could get a grip on the iron pry bar he kept in his backpack, but he got it just in time and walloped Mrs. Heiserman over the head. She must have been hungry, though, because it barely slowed her down. John kicked her in the knee, and she collapsed on the sidewalk, hissing at him. While she was regenerating, he and Sunil ran across the Webers’ lawn and took the back way home.
“Freaking adults, man,”
“I know,” said Sunil.
Back at the house, John’s mom was home from work at the Children’s Hospital and was making coconut baked fish. They tried going through the living room, but she must have heard them.
“Homework! Do your homework!” she moaned, lurching toward them.
“I will, Mom. We’re just going to play Wii in my room for a few minutes, then we’ll get right to it.”
“Homework first!” She lurched toward them, snatching at John’s head. “Brains!”
“Come on, Mom, leave my brains alone,” John said. He and Sunil sprinted into his room and barricaded the door behind them.
“Comb your hair!” his mom groaned.
“Man, I hope when I’m an adult, I don’t turn into such a zombie,” John said.
“Seriously, man,” Sunil said, hooking an open bag of Doritos from the dresser. “Seriously.”
One Way of Knowing
Wednesday, November 11th, 2009
Dr. Sarah Meckham knew how she felt by what she did. She knew she must feel nervous, because she kept dropping crumbs on the rug.
Companies fought over her for her neatness. No jet engine she designed, no part she machined, ever failed.
“Don’t worry,” said Lady Stirling. “These are crumbly scones. I have people to worry about the crumbs.”
“I don’t normally drop them,” said Dr. Meckham. The crumbs marred the pattern of the Turkish carpet, scattered across its blue and red hexagons. She’d even spilled some tea. She never spilled her tea!
“May I refill your cup?” asked Lady Stirling. Dr. Meckham wasn’t sure.
“So you’ve come to have your fortune told,” Lady Stirling said, giving up. “Doesn’t sound very engineer-like.”
“Yes, I know,” Dr. Meckham said, and thought, ‘and that is how I know I’m afraid.’ “I believe that you may help me understand the odds.”
“Odds of…?”
“Of surviving. Some people want to be the only ones who know how to make some of the machines I have designed. And other people would like me to stop making machines that make their military buildup difficult, or meaningless. You see.”
“That explains the gentleman and the car waiting outside,” said Lady Stirling.
“Yes.”
Lady Stirling watched more crumbs fall.
“And the men on the ridge and in the gazebo?”
“They prefer it if I pretend not to know.”
“I see. So you are interested in probabilities, not tall dark handsome men.”
“Yes,” said Dr. Meckham.
“That’s wise. Well,” said Lady Stirling, slapping her hands on her tweed skirt, “I think you’ll do for the next decade, particularly if you remain vigilant. After that, you must hire a different driver, because your enemies will blackmail this one. That’s about all the detail I can get at the moment. I should be delighted to have you to tea in nine years’ time, if you can manage it, so we can look a bit further ahead. Does that help?”
“Yes,” said Dr. Meckham. “That was very quick. I expected…”
Lady Stirling smiled. “Palm reading? At least a pack of cards? No. I don’t normally explain my mechanism, but to a mind like yours I will offer a hint: even perfectly neat eaters drop crumbs on this carpet.”
All the way out the door, Dr. Meckham treaded carefully, staring at the patterns. Lady Stirling smiled gently again, amused.