Free to Read: "Revelations"
It’s my birthday, and to mark the occasion, I’m sharing a trunk story that couldn’t find a home. I hope everyone enjoys it and has a great weekend.
And don’t forget - we’re just a month away from the release of “A Funeral” in The Piker Press!
Revelations
By Thomas Broderick
The hospital’s entrance, ivy vines growing over stone pillars, reminded Max of all the horror movies he had watched as a child. A small voice in the back of his mind warned him that zombies or ghosts were waiting inside, ready to rip him to shreds.
But, no, he realized while parking his old sedan near the psychiatric wing. There was something far worse behind all that old stone, something he didn’t want to see, but needed to.
A physician met Max in the lobby. “Dr. Hubert, thank you so much for coming to see Dr. West.”
“I only heard a few hours ago that they took him here.” The words brought back the late-night phone call from Robert’s wife, Elizabeth. She had been in hysterics, saying that her husband had gone mad.
“Yes, the doctors at St. Mary’s did a battery of tests this morning. No physical trauma. No sign of stroke or another disease that could affect mental capacity. We’ve sedated Dr. West, but he’s still responsive. If you could try talking to him…”
“Of course.” Max took a deep breath and followed the physician down the corridor.
He entered the private room by himself. His colleague of ten years lay flat on his back and only turned slightly in response to the sound of footsteps. A well-worn patient gown replaced his usual polo shirt. Padded restraints attached to his wrists and ankles gave him only a few inches of mobility.
“Hello, Robert.”
“Hello, Max.” His speech was slurred. Max hoped it was from the drugs. He sat in the nearest chair and gathered his thoughts while rubbing his hands together.
“You gave Liz quite the scare last night.”
“I did?”
Max nodded. “I think it’s because you’ve been working too hard. We’ve had a lot of late nights this year, and Liz said you’d turned the basement into another office.”
The restrained mathematician did not reply.
“Look, I’m going to check in on your home tonight. I want to make sure it’s…safe for you when you get out of here. Okay?”
Dr. Robert West, esteemed professor and author of over forty papers, could only nod weakly.
#
“Oh, Max, it’s so good to see you.” Elizabeth took him in a strong hug. “How’s Robert?”
“He’s stable.” Max took off his coat. “I promise I won’t stay long. I just want to know what was going on when he…” He struggled to find the right word. “Changed.”
“Come with me.” She tightened her robe and led him down into the basement. “Like I said over the phone, he’d basically locked himself in here for a month, only coming out to go to work or eat. I figure whatever sleep he’d been getting was on our old couch.”
The fluorescent lights revealed a workbench, computer, and 3D printer far more advanced than any hobbyist could afford. It was top of the line and featured a PROPERTY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CHICAGO sticker on its side.
Some dark shards on the floor caught Max’s eye. He kneeled to pick up one of the curved pieces. The 3D printer had made it, but what ‘it’ was, Max couldn’t say. It had fallen accidentally, or Robert had dropped it. He returned the shard to the pile.
“Do you mind if I take the computer?”
Elizabeth shook her head. “No, whatever you need. The sooner you can help the doctors understand what happened, the sooner Robert will get better and come home.”
Max nodded while putting the laptop under his arm. “Oh, and don’t worry about the printer. I’ll have my postdoc pick it up tomorrow. The dean will never know it was missing.”
“Thank you.”
#
Max poured himself a whiskey as Robert’s laptop booted up on his kitchen table. It wasn’t password protected, thankfully. He immediately opened the 3D printing program and accessed the most recent file. The model was one of the simplest things in the world, something Max had first created decades before in a high school computer science class – a sphere. The other files were identical but for the value of pi Robert had used.
The theory that Robert had succumbed to sleepless nights and work stress was suddenly making a lot more sense. But as much as he racked his brain, Max couldn’t think of anything, at least anything going on in the university, that would have led his friend down such a dark path. Students loved him, the dean tolerated him, and with tenure, well, he didn’t have much to worry about professionally.
Trouble at home didn’t seem to be the cause, either. Elizabeth had seemed just as shocked at her husband’s condition. Max had been their guest at plenty of dinners, and they his just as many times. There were no secrets among them.
Max sighed at the realization that there would be no easy answers. As was the case in mathematics, as was the case in life. Finishing his whiskey, he closed the computer and went to bed.
#
The psychiatric ward was more inviting with the clear autumn weather. Like before, Robert was still restrained. However, an orderly had shaved his face, and the deep bags under his eyes had lessened somewhat. He was even sitting up in bed.
Max took the same seat as he had four days prior.
“You look a lot better.”
“I feel better…mostly. Just nightmares now. The doctors give me a sedative to get through the night.”
“That’s good.”
Robert turned to look out the window, where a bare spruce was waving in the wind. “Max, do you believe in God?”
“Well, Spinoza’s God, I guess. The laws of nature are as much of a god as any bearded man in the Bible.”
“I thought that way too, thought that way for a long time. We spend our whole lives using numbers and formulae to try to uncover nature’s hidden secrets. But then I realized that God will keep some things from us no matter what.” He tried to wipe a tear from his eye but couldn’t due to the restraints.
“Here.” Max took a tissue from the bedside and wiped his friend’s face.
“Thank you. I’m sorry, Max, but I’m tired.” He used a tethered remote to return the bed to its flat position. “I need sleep.”
#
Max was readying his latest paper for publication when there was a knock on his office door. “It’s unlocked.”
The professor gasped as he saw Nathan’s face. The postdoc’s pale complexion made him look significantly older than his thirty years.
“What happened?”
Carrying a small cardboard box, Nathan entered and sat in one of the two chairs reserved for guests. Many seconds passed until he spoke with slow and deliberate words.
“I did exactly as you asked. I ran Dr. West’s latest model on the printer he’d taken home. When I returned after teaching my class, I didn’t see anything inside. At first, I thought something was wrong with it, that it was out of microtube filament. But, no, it had been three-fourths full. It was so heavy I could barely carry it out of Dr. West’s house the other day.
“The filament, well, here…” Nathan put the box on the desk. “Be careful.”
Max took the box in both hands. It had weight, and something shifted as he tilted it from side to side. Setting the box back down, he opened the lid.
“It’s empty.”
Nathan had already begun shaking his head before Max could finish. “Touch it.”
The color drained from Max’s face the moment he stuck a finger inside. He felt pressure, something solid with the filament’s unmistakable texture. He dragged his finger over its surface.
“The sphere,” he whispered.
Nathan nodded. “Four inches in diameter. There’s one more thing. I ran it through the scanner for an hour. It’s…it’s a sphere.”
“Well, yes, but…”
“No, Dr. Hubert. We’re not dealing with a basketball or soap bubble. It’s a true sphere. Dr. West’s computer model says it shouldn’t be, but the printer made it.”
Doctor and assistant stared into the box, which, in just a single heartbeat, had become a bottomless abyss.
#
“It was an imperfect model, even when using one-hundred-trillion digits of pi,” Robert explained, his tone and pitch returned to normal. He thankfully lacked the restraints that had bound him for the past week. An orderly had even brought him a newspaper, which lay discarded next to his half-finished lunch. “But then I knew that the printer, too, was an imperfect instrument.” A sheepish grin grew on his face.
“So, you tried to turn two negatives into a positive.”
“Something like that, Max. When I did succeed, I reacted just like your postdoc. ‘The damn machine must be broken,’ I cursed until I saw the filament reserve had been reduced by seventeen percent.” He chuckled. “That stuff just doesn’t disappear, well, at least not in any normal way.
“My mind went blank when I touched it for the first time. It’s strange, though. It didn’t feel like anything special, kind of like a cheap child’s toy.” He trailed off.
“The last time I was here, you said that God keeps things hidden from us. I assume you meant the sphere.”
Robert nodded. “For three sleepless nights, I examined it in my basement. I ran every test possible with what little equipment I had. Only after forcing myself to nap for an hour did I discover why it was invisible.” His eyes stared off into the distance.
“Rising from the couch, I felt like Kekulé. But instead of discovering the structure of benzene in a dream, I realized that man cannot perceive perfection, even perfection he himself creates. Maybe it’s because of original sin, maybe biology. All I know is that a universe of knowledge is locked away from us…forever.” Sighing, Robert lowered his head.
“And you destroyed it.”
“Please don’t think I was angry. I didn’t throw it at the wall or smash it against the ground. I was despondent, Max. I just let it slip from my fingers. The moment the thin shell shattered, everything came into focus. Maybe it was the sleep deprivation, but I think I saw...” Silent tears streamed down his face.
“I saw God.”
Max pursed his lips before speaking. “And that’s when you…” Robert’s nodding let him avoid finishing his question.
“I’m not going to tell you what to do with yours. I know, though, that you might end up like me if you watch it break. Being here hasn’t been very fun.”
“You think you’ll be okay? I mean, long term?”
“I think so.” Robert forced a smile. “It’s not like the dean can fire me.”
The two shared a laugh, and, at least for a moment, everything seemed like it would be all right.
#
Robert returned to work on a limited basis the following month. He and Max had lunch together like old times and began collaborating on a new paper.
As for the remaining sphere, Max put it in a clear plastic box high up on his office bookshelf, where it wouldn’t stand out among the other knickknacks or be accidentally knocked over. The box began to gather dust after only a few days, and Max found himself looking up at it less and less often as time went on.
Six months had passed, and Max and Nathan were writing up the following semester’s undergraduate class schedule. Sitting on Nathan’s lap was his two-year-old daughter.
“You don’t mind, do you?” Nathan asked. “I couldn’t get daycare for Julie after Natalie got the flu.”
Max shook his head. “No problem.” He grinned at the little girl whose curious green eyes seemed much too big for her face.
Julie amused herself by bouncing on her father’s knee and looking around the office. After a moment, she reached up with her tiny hand and said something that brought the two men’s work to a halt.
“Dada, ball.”
###