A Moment in Time. Jeff Morris
for me to get something out of him. Maybe he had access to the building’s supply room, or would allow me to remove the signs outside the apartment. If he was an amateur at manipulating people it wouldn’t be hard for me to turn the tables on him. His old friend from the first floor may have bought his performance, but unlike him, I was about to use the charade to my advantage. Either way, after getting to know him briefly, I wasn’t all that worried about his influence. I decided to continue playing along and press him for answers.
“Sam, I thought you brought me down here to discuss the condition of the building. I’m not sure which department you work for, but you obviously know my credentials. Do you think you are the first person to try and leverage my training?”
Sam didn’t object to my assertion that they really wanted me here because of my training as a scientist, so I decided put my cards on the table.
“Let’s cut to the chase. Have you brought me here because I’m a scientist, or because you want my apartment?”
I was careful to read Sam’s reaction, and was surprised to see a sadness in his eyes that I hadn’t seen yet.
“Neither,” said Sam, with a calm voice. “We do want your opinion, not because you’re a scientist, but because you’re a person. There is a difference, John.”
For a moment he sounded like a psychiatrist, and the zig made me feel slightly unsettled.
“Listen, Sam, you seem like a friendly person. I’d like to share my thoughts on how to make this place better, if that’s what you’re after, but let’s do this civilly. First you shove magic tea in my face, then you’re talking about your prey on the first floor, and now the Headmaster—the character you use to scare children. What is this all about?”
He didn’t move a muscle, and the sadness in his eyes was now penetrating. I suddenly felt like I was being harsh with the man, and a feeling of embarrassment stirred inside me as I looked at him. I’m not sure why I didn’t notice the sorrow he carried when I first sat down with him. I had only spent a few minutes with him, but there was an amiability about him that I hadn’t expected, and it felt good to talk with someone, even though he was a stranger. I had spent considerable effort avoiding contact with other people, but Sam was somehow different. His tone was innocent, with a hint of naivety, and I was sure I had the intellectual upper hand in our encounter. I had been afraid that it would be a waste of my time to come down here, and although I suffer to admit it, the brief companionship alone seemed to be worth the trip.
“You’ve been forgetful for some time, John. Take another sip of tea, and this time focus on its lovely flavors.”
His voice suddenly carried the distinction of authority, though not enough to scare me off completely, and I reminded myself not to get to comfortable.
“We do spend a lot of time with children. We find them to be extremely reliable messengers.”
“How do you people sleep?” I snapped, involuntarily losing control of my wits. “You know your game won’t last forever, right? Power is cyclical.”
In that moment, I knew I had lost control. Sam didn’t miss a beat, but my outburst probably caused him to reveal more then he should have.
“Oppression is cyclical; power is absolute.”
As soon as Sam finished his sentence, I felt a chill go down my spine. His eyes pierced me like a javelin that has successfully hit its target on the first throw. Sam paused for moment before he said, “Do you remember who brought you to this building?”
“Brought me? I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I replied soberly.
“I see,” Sam said calmly.
He sipped his tea slowly, his arms and hands rising and falling from his lap to his mouth with precision. He was like a mechanical drone, deep in thought, while constantly oiling his parts with the flow of warm tea. I didn’t know how to explain what was happening just then, but he seemed to grow larger and larger as we sat in silence. The features on his face barely changed, other than when he licked his lips to devour the small traces of liquid that were left behind after each time he had raised and lowered the cup. His hair suddenly stood out the most, as the lightness of the gray contrasted with the grays and blacks of the rest of the room.
I had studied time for decades before meeting Sam—it was my academic area of expertise—and my work had changed the way people think about the subject. My dissertation was called Time’s Accumulating Effect—Something Gained, Nothing Lost. But even with all of my experience, never had time become so mysterious and unpredictable as it had during these fleeting moments. I felt like I was concrete, unmovable. It seemed that even if I could move, I shouldn’t, as though time had stopped for me, but Sam was fluid. It looked as though he were in motion even though he wasn’t, and that somehow I was trapped, stuck in a moment in time that Sam was outside of. His eyes grew larger and larger, and I could count the times that he would wrinkle his brow just slightly. The longer I sat there, and the closer I looked, the more I noticed the features on his face move, even in the slightest way. The tiny pores on his cheek seemed to breathe in and out, moving like the chest of a man who is sound asleep. He blinked now and then. When his eyelids closed I could hear them thunder shut with a loud echo, and then suddenly reopen with a squish. His gaze never changed, and I could hear his satisfied rumble every time he moved the tea cup away from his mouth. Even when I tried, I couldn’t see past the small features on his face, as if his face had filled the whole room and when I looked up as high as I could, I saw his hair line, and if I looked as far as I could to the right, I could only see as far as his ear with the corner of his right eye in my peripheral. I was paralyzed in time, and my whole world had involuntarily sunk down to the size of Sam’s face. I don’t know why, but for the first time in as long as I could remember, I felt safe.
3
I don’t know if it was another one of his tricks, but before I knew what had happened, he was standing beside me with his hand on my shoulder. He dug his thumb gently into my skin and rubbed it in a circle. I sighed momentarily, and then stood up as quickly as I could. The room seemed to spin before I was steady on my feet.
“I’d like to know why you haven’t been using the amenities around the building, and then I’d like to show you something.” Sam spoke as though he was talking to himself, and the words came out like a whisper.
Part of me thought that it wouldn’t be such a bad thing to indulge Sam just a little, but mostly I couldn’t resist his charm. I was beginning to think that he was the one who had created all of the signs that hung around the building; Sam the expert propagandist. I suddenly spoke up without considering whether or not he was beginning to subdue me.
“You know what I’d change first around here?” Sam’s eyes squinted, and he looked up and down my face.
“What’s that?” he asked in a happy voice.
“I’d put in some ventilation to fix the dingy air. You non-scientific fools don’t realize how it could be. I’ve been studying the cosmos for years and know that the air outside our atmosphere is perfect. There’s no hazy fog or worry of contaminants. If we send something up there, it just goes on forever as though nothing could affect it.”
“Why don’t you to take off your sunglasses?” Sam didn’t flinch in his response. His tone was bold, yet flavored with the innocence I’d perceived in him.
“What sunglasses?” I asked.
“The ones that you’ve been wearing ever since I was assigned to you. You’ve had them on since you left your position.”
“Assigned to me? Left my position?” I almost stammered before I continued, “What is this . . . ?’
I couldn’t believe what he had said and was suddenly paralyzed by the complexity of the situation. Could it be possible that Sam, the letters, the cult, and the signs were due to my colleagues. The university where I had been a professor was prestigious and had deep pockets, but this?
Envy