I continued to nod.
“Whatever happens,” I said, “I am certain that you will find it a stimulating and enlightening experience.”
We continued to the car, into it, cityward, away. Behind me the beach was suddenly full of doorways, and I thought of ladies, tigers, shoes, ships, sealing wax and other lurkers on the threshold. Soon, soon, soon …
Variations on a Theme by the Third Gargoyle from the End: Stars and the Dream of Time-
It was in a small town in the shadow of the Alps that I finally caught up with him, brooding atop the local house of worship, regarding the huge clock high up on the city hall across the way.
“Good evening. Professor Dobson.”
“Eh? Fred? Goodness! Mind the next stone over-the mortar is a bit crumbly … There. Very good. I hardly expected to see you tonight. Glad you happened by, though. I was going to send you a postcard in the morning, telling you about this place. Not just the climbing but the perspective. Keep your eye on the big clock, will you?”
“All right,” I said, settling back onto a perch and bracing one foot against an ornamental projection.
“I’ve brought you something,” I said, passing him the package.
“Why, thank you. Most unexpected. A surprise … It gurgles, Fred.”
“So it does.”
He peeled away the paper.
“Indeed! I can’t make out the label, so I had better sample it.”
I watched the big clock on the tower.
After a moment, “Fred!” he said. “I’ve never tasted the like! What is it?”
“The stereoisomer of a common bourbon,” I said. “I was permitted to run a few bottles through the Rhennius machine recently, as the UN Special Committee on Alien Artifacts is being particularly nice to me these days. So, in this sense, you have just sampled a very rare thing.”
“I see. Yes … What is the occasion?”
“The stars have run their fiery courses to their proper places, positioned with elegant cunning, possessed of noble portent.”
He nodded.
“Beautifully stated,” he said. “But what do you mean?”
“To begin with a departure, I have graduated.”
“I am sorry to hear that. I was beginning to believe they would never get you.”
“So was I. But they did. I am now working for the State Department or the United Nations, depending on how one looks at these matters.”
“What sort of position is it?”
“That is what I am thinking about at the moment. You see, I have a choice.”
He took another sip and passed me the bottle.
“Always an awesome moment,” he reflected. “Here.”
I nodded. I took a sip.
“Which is why I wanted to talk with you before I made it.”
“Always an awesome responsibility,” he said, recovering the bottle. “Why me?”
“Some time ago, when I was being tormented in the desert,” I said, “I thought about the many advisers I have had. It only recently occurred to me what made some of them better than others. The best ones, I see now, were those who did not try to force me to go the prescribed routes. They did not simply sign my card either, though. They always talked to me for a time. Not the usual sort of thing. They never counseled me in the direct manner ritual prescribes for such occasions. I don’t even remember much of what was said. Things they had learned the hard way usually, things they considered important, I guess. Generally non-academic things. Those were the ones who taught me something, and perhaps they did direct me in an indirect way. Not to do what they wanted but to see something they had really seen. A piece of their slant on life, take it for whatever it is worth. Anyhow, while you are one of the few who escaped the formal assignment, over the years I have come to consider you my only real adviser.”
“It was never intentional … ” he said.
“Exactly. That was the best way to do it in my case. The only way, probably. You have shown me things that have helped me. Often. Now I am thinking particularly of our recent conversation, back on campus, right before you retired.”