part 1

He arrived late and slipped into a booth against the back wall with a man and a woman who had apparently been expecting him. I watched carefully as they talked and laughed while I worked through my last set. I never saw him look at me.

They prepared to leave and I saw him writing something on a paper napkin which he folded and placed in his shirt pocket. They moved towards the door together, said their good-byes, and I watched as the couple went out and Adam wound his way through the tables on my right to the pay phone in the hallway behind me. I hoped for some eye contact, but he didn’t even glance in my direction.

A few moments later he emerged on my left and walked to the bar. As I watched him take a seat, I saw on the corner of the table beside me a folded paper napkin. I finished my song a chorus short and picked it up.

Inside was written, simply, "You're amazing!"

I looked at the last song on my set list and decided it was one too many. I thanked the small group that remained, left the stage, and took the empty seat next to him at the bar. I laid the folded napkin across the top of his beer glass.

"Busted," he said, looking up and smiling. Big brown eyes and dimples, oh baby. “That was fast.”

I picked up the napkin and looked at it carefully. "I don’t usually get anonymous compliments that appear out of thin air.” I shook my head slowly, “Why do you suppose someone would do a thing like that?”

“I have no idea,” he shrugged, still smiling, "Maybe you have a secret admirer.”

I wasn't sure what to think. "I don't understand, you didn't look at me once all night."

"No, I saw you, I just didn't want to be obvious about it."

"I see . . no I don’t see. Really, why the subterfuge?”

“I don’t know, maybe I was a little intimidated.”

“Intimidated? By what?”

“Let’s see,” he counted on his fingers, “You’re beautiful, you’re talented, you seem to have some intelligence, and . . what else . . you seem very genuine and, well, nice.”

“Nice?”

“C’mon, don’t be that way, I get tired of the implication that being nice is somehow a sign of weakness, that nice guys finish last and all that crap. I’m sick of arrogance and ‘attitude’. I appreciate nice, please tell me I’m not wrong about that.”

“I suppose I do try to be a nice person, but sometimes I feel like it’s something I need to apologize for.”

“I know, it’s ridiculous. I could rant about it, but now’s probably not a good time.”

“No time like the present. I’m not busy.”

“Well, maybe later. Where were we?”

“You were telling me how wonderful I am. And how insignificant it makes you feel.”

“Oh, yeah. I was thinking how wonderful you are and how insignificant it makes me feel, and also how I wasn’t about to risk being rejected by trying to make some kind of connection. I guess the fashionable thing would be to slip you a mickey, but I decided to write you an anonymous note instead. Less chance of, you know, prison time.”

“That’s sweet. And references to prison are so romantic. You know, I’ve never had a secret admirer before.”

“Not much of a secret, I blew my cover.”

“I guess you’re right. I’m glad you did though.”

“Oh. Really?”

“Really. Take a look around the room. Don’t be obvious about it but check out the men in here right now. Go ahead, I’m serious.”

He turned casually and surveyed the lounge, then smiled and nodded. “I see what you mean.”

“Exactly. If I had to leave here thinking that note came from one of these guys, I’d have to change my name and move to another state.”

“Not what I intended, but it’s nice to know it would have had some effect. Do you need a drink or anything?”

“No, I had one on stage, one more would just put me to sleep.”

He paused for a moment. “You know, this is working out pretty well for something I tried to keep from happening. You’re easy to talk to . . . you feel . . familiar somehow, like someone I’ve known a long time. I can’t believe I just said that.”

“It’s ok, I know what you mean. Maybe we’re members of the same karass.”

He nodded for a moment, then shook head. “Sounds familiar, I thought I had if for a minute but . . ”

“Vonnegut. I think it has something to do with people who find themselves working together for some higher purpose. Suggests some kind of cosmic link.”

He nodded again. “I could use a good cosmic link from time to time.”

“Not that kind of link, it’s supposed to involve a higher purpose.”

“There’s a higher purpose?”

“Oh, I see how you are, Mr . . . Admirer.”

“That’s Doctor Admirer to you.”

“Oh, you’re a doctor are you?”

“Not a doctor doctor, a science doctor, I have a PhD, not an MD, sorry.”

“Why would you be sorry about that?”

“I thought you’d be disappointed, MD’s make a lot more money.”

“I’m not disappointed, I’m impressed. So what are you a doctor of, Mister Science Doctor PhD? And Mister Doctor, do you have a name?”

““Adam Janus, Pin head Dilettante,” He gave a seated bow, “ at your service.”

“Pin head Dilettante?” I had to laugh. “I never heard that one before. PhD, Pin head Dilettante, I love that.” I held out my hand. “I’m . . “

“Crystal Vorta,” He took my hand gently. “Your name’s on the sign outside. Not to mention in the entertainment section of the newspaper. Doesn’t seem like the fame’s gone to your head though.”

“It’s not fame I seek, it’s cash, which doesn’t come in amounts that would go to my head either. You were about to confess what it is you do.”

“I teach at the college. Just for a year, I'm subbing for a guy on sabbatical.”

“Which department?”

“Physics.”

“Wow, you’re a physicist?” I was really impressed. “I’m really impressed.”

“Enough about me. What is it you do when you’re not making beautiful music for this slurping, masticating herd that isn’t paying attention?”

“Hey, I get good crowds sometimes. Where were you two hours ago when everyone was listening? Besides, do all your students pay attention?”

“Oh yes, but only because there are consequences if they don’t. But you’re right, it’s late and everyone’s tired so I wasn’t being fair. They just don’t seem to appreciate how good you really are. And I’ll bet they enjoy listening to you a lot more than my students enjoy listening to me.”

“Maybe, maybe not. Y’know, it’s interesting, there are some similarities in what we do. People pay to listen to both of us.”

“There are people who listen to both of us?”

“Of course there are. Maybe not at the same time. You don’t think your students go to bars? You know what I mean, Doctor Smartass.”

“Well, I guess it’s true to the extent we’re both paid to face small groups of people and emit sound waves. Your turn.”

“My turn? Oh, right.”

“Your alter ego.”

“You’ll never guess.”

“Then you’ll have to tell me.”

“Well, I’m a teacher too.”

He looked at me carefully. “You are not.”

“I am so! How dare you!”

“Sorry, you just looked like you were making it up.”

I looked at him very carefully. It was an awkward moment.

“Really,” he blurted out, “That’s just the reading I got. If you say you’re a teacher, you’re a teacher.”

“This is very, very interesting.”

“Listen, I didn’t mean to . .”

“I’m not really a teacher . . “

“Wait a minute . . “

“No, let me explain. I’m a grad student, Adam, I’m a full time student. But I also teach three times a week, so I was trying to make a joke. You were supposed to say ‘Oh, really?’ and then I was going to say, ‘Yes, I teach one whole class, ha ha.’ I didn’t expect you to challenge me like that.”

“Hey, if you teach, you’re a teacher.”

“No I’m not. I don’t want to get into a lot of semantic hair-splitting here, but in the context of what you were asking, I’m a student, not a teacher, period. I also sing and play guitar and run three miles every morning, but you were really asking what I do as my primary activity and the only answer to that is ‘I’m a student.’ That’s what I was aware of as I was telling you I was a teacher. It was really that obvious?”

“Well, yeah, I think so. Look, I’m not clairvoyant, I just saw your expression change, I’m not sure how to describe it. You looked like someone who was saying something they were making up.”

“That’s incredible.”

“No it’s not, you’d have noticed it too.”

“Maybe. I’m not so sure.”

“Ok, I admit it, I have many . . magical . . powers.”

“I thought so.”

“But I can’t read your mind. What’s your program?”

“God, it’s so boring.”

“Come on . . “

“All right. English. See?”

“What’s boring about English? I actually use English myself on a regular basis.”

“Oh, on a regular basis?”

“Quite frequently actually. I understand many other people do as well, but you’d know more about that than me.”

I was laughing again. “You are such a smartass.”

“That’s the second time you said that. You seem preoccupied with my ass.”

“Whoa! Let’s not get ahead of ourselves here.”

“Sorry. Listen, I have an idea. Why don’t you come sit in on one of my classes sometime and I’ll come sit in on yours.”

“What am I supposed to do in a physics class? I won’t understand a single word.”

“We do speak English in there, aren’t you an expert in English?”

“Enough already.”

“No, really, I teach a survey class for elective credit we refer to fondly as ‘Physics for Poets’. It’s designed for anyone. You’ll like it, I promise, we have a lot of fun in there.”

“I think I’m busy that semesterrrr . . wait a minute, I know who you are! Is that the class where you blow things up?”

“I see my reputation precedes me.”

“It sure does, I know someone who’s taking your class right now! She has a terrible crush on you, she’ll be jealous when I tell her about meeting you.”

“What’s her name?”

“Maybe I shouldn’t say, since I told you she has a thing for you.”

“Fair enough. Does she like the class?”

“Well, yes, she goes every day, but only because she thinks you’re cute and she likes to throw bowling balls off bridges. She never does any work, she didn’t even buy the textbook.”

“I hope she has sense enough to drop before the deadline.”

“That’s her plan, sorry.”

“Happens all the time, you know that. I don’t take it personally. But I think I know who you’re talking about now.”

“Great. After I shot off my mouth about her. Adam . . ”

“Don’t worry, I won’t say anything. Besides, you didn’t tell me anything that isn’t kind of obvious.”

“You knew she likes you?”

“I guess. Doesn’t matter, she’s my student, I don’t do that.”

“She won’t be much longer. Then what?”

“Well, it’s ok then. Can you get me her number?”

“You’re not serious.”

“Why not? She’s adorable.”

“I don’t think she’s your type.”

“Ah, kind of a bimbo?”

“That’s not nice and it’s not true. Nicki is very nice and I like her, I just don’t think you’ll have the same interests.”

“She’s interested in me, I’m interested in me . . .”

“Ok, Mister Science Doctor Teacher, hand over that pen, I’ll give you her number right now. She’ll be ecstatic.”

“Nah, she’s still my student. Maybe later.”

“I thought so.”

“See, you can tell when people are lying too.”

“I wasn’t lying! And this is different, it was obvious you weren’t serious.”

“Yeah I know, I’m a lousy poker player.”

“Well, I’ve heard you’re a good teacher, so you’ll always have that.”

“Not always, I’m a temp. I wasn’t hired for tenure-track, I’ll be gone at the end of the year.”

“That’s terrible!”

“Not really, I’m not interested in teaching. The opportunity came up and I took advantage of it because it gives me access to equipment and facilities I need for a project I’m working on. I just hope I can get it finished by then.”

“What kind of project?”

Gritting his teeth, he shook his head. “It’s kind of hard to talk about. It’s even hard to talk about why it’s hard to talk about.”

“That’s fine, it’s physics, I wouldn’t understand anyway.”

“Well, you’d understand the general idea, you know, what I’m trying to accomplish, but it’s ah . . “

“Hard to talk about.”

“Exactly. On the other hand, if it works out the way I think it will, it’ll be easy to talk about. And I’ll talk about it a lot.”

“I see. And if it doesn’t work out the way you think it will?”

“It will still be easy to talk about. Either way I’ll have something to publish.”

“Wait a minute. It’s hard to talk about now, but no matter what happens, it’ll be easy to talk about later?”

“That’s about the size of it.”

“It sounds like you just don’t want to talk about it now.”

“That’s why it’s . . “

“Hard to talk about.”

“Well done, Vorta.”

“And you don’t want to talk about why you don’t want to talk about it, so you say it’s hard to talk about it.”

He was smiling now, shaking his head slowly. “Busted again. See? I knew you were amazing.”

“I have a question.”

“Shoot. I think.”

“Is the reason you don’t want to talk about it because it might make a lot of money and you don’t want someone to steal your idea?”

“What kind of question is that? Scientists don’t make any money. The most brilliant men in the world unravel the deepest mysteries of the universe, then fall all over themselves getting the results printed up so they can pass’em out to anyone willing to read about them.”

“Unless they work for some corporation.”

“Well, there’s that. But you know what I mean.”

“Yes, but don’t scientists usually talk about what they’re working on? I thought you might have a reason for not doing it.”

He sighed. “Vorta, you’re going to waste in English, you should be in law school.”

“That means yes?”

“Well, yes and no.” He thought about this. “No, not really, it’s more properly no and yes. The truth is, the reason I don’t talk about it is that you’d think I’m crazy.”

“Are you?”

“Probably.”

“And if you’re not?”

“Then the world will never be the same and I’ll be filthy, stinking rich.”

“This is something that will change the world?”

“I didn’t really mean that . . .”

“Too late! The word’s out, I’ll put it on the net. Professor Adam Janus vows ‘I’ll change the world!’”

“You’ll look pretty silly when you find out I’m full of shit. Can’t you tell I’m making this all up to impress you?”

“No, no, you can’t get out of it now, I know you’re working on something important.”

“Like I said, I’m probably crazy.”

“You don’t think you are though, do you?”

“I don’t know, I go back and forth. Seriously, I’m kind of at an impasse. It’s driving me . . crazy.”

“So there’s no way out, you’re either crazy or you’re going to be.”

“Ah well, it’s inevitable then. At least I can stop worrying about what’s going to happen.”

“That’s nice, to have your destiny all laid out for you.”

“Easier to make plans.”

“Right, right.”

“Unless it turns out I can resolve this thing.”

“Then it wouldn’t be an impasse, it would only appear to be an impasse.”

“Couldn’t it be an impasse that I change into something that’s not an impasse?”

“Nope. Doesn’t work that way. It is or it isn’t. You may be wrong about what it is, but an impasse is by its very nature not resolvable.”

“You’re sure?”

“Not really, but I think it means literally ‘you can’t pass it’ but it’s late and I’m tired and I’ll say anything that comes into my head. Besides, it’s not an impasse, you’re going to figure it out and become rich and famous and change the world forever and I’ll tell people I talked to you in a bar one night and no one will believe me.”

“Why wouldn’t they believe . . oh.”

“See how wrong you were? It turns out you’re the one who’s out of my league.”

“You have your own league?”

“You’re being a smartass again.”

“No no, just curious. Scientific curiosity.”

“You’re a smartass.”

“Ok, I’m a smartass.”

“But a brilliant and potentially wealthy smartass. And nice.”

“Really? What a nice thing to say.”

“Well, that’s just a first impression, you could have a dark side.”

“Hard to tell in ten minutes, isn’t it?”

“Exactly. You could turn out to be a white supremacist Jehovah’s Witness.”

“I thought about joining, but they have all those meetings and dues and stuff. How about you? Professional killer?”

“No time. Not that there aren’t some people I’d like to whack. Maybe I’ll make a list and take it up as a hobby once I’m done with school.”

“Could be very satisfying.”

“Don’t think I haven’t thought about it.”

“I guess I should be careful not to piss you off.”

“That’s right, mister science doctor. You better not turn out to be sexist, a religious extremist, or gay.”

“You have something against homos?”

“No of course not, I love gay men, I just don’t want you to be one of them.”

He nodded. “Gotcha. Ok, this is what you’re dealing with: I’m a twenty-nine year old, never married, strictly heterosexual male with no family, children, pets, neuroses, or STDs. I don’t believe in magic, astrology, voodoo, ghosts or gods. I’m a social heretic with no stomach for greed or tribalism. I think the world is mostly insane. I’m housebroken and I have all my shots.”

He drained his beer and made a face.

“Want another one?” I asked.

“No thanks, I just took one drink too many.”

“That’s ‘cause it was warm and flat. What if it was cold and free? I have connections.”

“Really, thanks,” he said, pushing his glass away with disgust, “I’ve had enough for tonight.”

“That was a nice character sketch. Too good to be spontaneous.”

“Busted again,” he replied, shaking his head slowly as his smile returned. “Ok, I confess, It’s mostly from a profile I once put together for an online dating service I never actually joined. Ever try one?”

“No, I just hang out in bars.”

“How’s that working for you?”

“Tonight, not too bad.”

“Hey, we have something in common, me too.”

“I’m also heterosexual, never married, no children, no STDs. But I have a big family. You really have no family at all?”

“Not anymore. I’m an only child and my folks were killed in a car crash eight years ago.”

“Oh, Adam, I’m so sorry. I don’t know what to say . . “

“Yeah, I know. It’s hard to know how to react to something like that, but it’s ok, really. I came to grips with things a long time ago so there’s no reason we need to pay any more attention to it tonight than any other detail of my life. Besides, you’re on the hot seat. Continue.”

“Where was I?”

“Magic, astrology . . did you mention your age?”

“Let’s just say I’m not as old as you. And I don’t believe in magic or astrology, or . . “

“Voodoo?”

“No.”

“Ah, what was next . . ghosts?”

“I don’t know, I don’t think so, but I’m not so sure about that.”

“God? Or, as the case may be, gods?”

“Well, I think there’s a higher power, but I don’t believe in a personal god.”

He nodded. “You don’t think the universe was created by the tribal war god of a bunch of wandering desert nomads?”

I rolled my eyes. “If I had to have a god, I’d pick one from the Hindus.”

“They have better gods?”

“They have bigger gods.” That wasn’t what I meant. “Well, not really bigger, I mean larger in scope. None of this six days, six thousand year stuff. Brahma dreams the world into existence and one day of Brahma is like, billions of years. Brahma lives a hundred Brahma years and then Shiva destroys everything and the cycle begins all over again.”

“Really?”

“Have I ever lied to you?”

He laughed out loud. “Hey, you’re talking about billions and cycles, I’m starting to wonder if you’re not some kind of closet astronomer.”

“Pfft! Please, it’s obvious the universe is very big and has been around a long time.”

“Well, that’s actually very interesting, I didn’t know any religion thought about things that way. I’m intrigued.”

“And Hindu scripture is so much more interesting to read. The old testament is too much about blind obedience and submission to an angry, jealous dictator who spends all his time harassing a handful of people. And . . wait a minute, that reminds me of something. Nicki told me once you explained to her class how the world is really flat. What’s up with that?”

“Of course it’s flat, everybody knows that.”

“No really, tell me about it.”

He groaned. “Don’t make me pontificate, it’s the weekend.”

I persisted.

“Come on, I want to hear everything.”

He took a breath, resigned himself to his fate, and plunged in.

“I was just talking about frames of reference. Early cosmologies placed the Earth at the center of the universe because relative to human observers, that’s what it looks like. But as our observations and calculations got better, we learned the Earth orbits the sun, so our understanding grew to include a larger and more comprehensive frame of reference. It’s a more complete, more complex model, but the point is, it doesn’t eliminate the earlier model, it includes it, it . . uh . . contains it. Do you see what I’m getting at?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Ok, it’s really as simple as this: If you stand on the Earth, the sun goes around you. If you stand on the sun, the Earth goes around you. If you stand at the center of the galaxy, the sun goes around you, the Earth goes around the sun, and the moon goes around the Earth. Each level contains the simpler model as a special case.”

“You mean I can stand on the sun?”

“Sure, as long as you wear sensible shoes.”

“What if I stand at the center of the universe?”

“There is no center of the universe.”

“Oh come on, there has to be.”

“Trust me, you don’t want to go there, not tonight. And you can’t really stand at the center of the galaxy either, let along see anything, but that’s something else to save for later.”

“I get the message.”

“Good. With me so far?”

“You’re saying it all depends on your perspective.”

“Yes, exactly! As long as you understand the limits of the simpler model. And on a small scale, local conditions dominate. The Earth may be a sphere, but it’s so big that over short distances that curvature is tiny, less than eight centimeters a kilometer. That’s about three inches over half a mile which may not be perfectly flat but it’s pretty damn close and virtually undetectable without good instruments. And it’s totally meaningless compared to geological features like hills and valleys and stuff like that. So, when you want to build a house that gets morning sun in your breakfast nook you can forget Copernicus and assume the Earth is flat and that your house will be stationary and the sun will go around it. That’s a perfectly valid model because it’s true. Relative to your house, it’s the sun that moves, you just have to keep in mind that doesn’t mean the sun orbits the Earth. Still with me? Your eyes are glazing over.”

“I’m doing ok, I’m just concentrating.”

“Well, I just condensed a forty minute lecture with lots of visual aids into a sixty second synopsis so if you’re getting a handle on any of it you’re doing pretty well.”

“You’ve given me a lot to think about tonight. I’ll have questions later.”

He nodded. “Anyway, the point is, different frames of reference have their own internal consistency and validity. It’s a question of using the right model for the circumstances. We evolved with the expectation that the surface under our feet is substantial and unmoving and in that frame of reference it’s a perfectly legitimate model. We can throw a grid on the surface of the Earth and locate this place we’re sitting by exact coordinates that will never change.

“But if we take a step back, everything changes. This quiet, cozy little club is spinning around the axis of a big iron ball we call the Earth at a thousand miles an hour. That big iron ball is like a spaceship, free falling in an endless elipse around a medium yellow star at seventy thousand miles an hour. That sun, the Earth and everything on it starting with the floor beneath our feet that seems so secure, is rotating around the western spiral arm of the Milky Way at half a million miles an hour. And all of it against the background of a universe that expands at a rate that’s even faster than that. While we’ve been talking, we haven’t just moved foward in time a few minutes, we’ve moved in space as well. We’ve left those coordinates far behind, they’re now just a point in empty space more than a hundred thousand miles from here.” He smiled. “You asked for it.”

I took a deep, let it out slowly. “It was worth it. What a ride.”

“Doesn’t feel like it, does it?”

“I meant listening to you. I’m definitely coming to visit your class.”

“I hope that’s a good thing. I don’t want to wind up on your list.”

“I see. Fear is excellent motivation.”

“I may have other motives . . ”

“Oh really? Something wicked?”

“Not me. All my thoughts are pure.” He beamed angelically.

“Well, in that case, I suppose I should be getting along . . “ I started to get up.

“No, no, wait! I confess, I have an ulterior motive. Something extremely wicked.”

“Extremely wicked?”

“Well, moderately wicked.”

“Sounds interesting. Tell me more.”

“Gee, I’d love to, but we’re out of time. See? They’re going to kick us out.”

“You’re not going to get off that easy. You want to go get a cup of coffee?”

“Sure, is there something around here open this late?”

I dug in my purse for my keys. “I know a place.”