"Stories of Science, History & Mystery "
Chapter II: Destiny
« History does not repeat itself, but it does rhyme »
Mark Twain
1.
«Why the fuck am I doing this?» Liz was panting, as she took her seat. Her late arrival had delayed take-off, and she could observe some judgmental looks.
«Not your day, is it?» said a friendly and distinctly Glaswegian voice.
Liz made eye contact with her neighbor, a gentleman in his sixties.
«I'm sorry. It's been a long day, or night for that matter.»
«Where in America are you from?»
Liz did not feel like small talk. She was in an especially foul mood. A crying baby had kept her awake all night on her flight to Heathrow. Yet an automatic friendliness took over. This from her living in the American South for the past 5 years.
«Florida» she said.
«The Sunshine State. Love it there. Where about?»
Liz felt like she heard a skipped record. She did not suffer fools gladly, and banal small talk was just not her thing. She also knew how this would play out. If she told him the truth, namely Gainesville, there were two ways it could go. Either people would draw a blank, and she would have to explain - boring! Or worse, they would start talking about the Gators football's team, and their chance of winning the national title.
Liz did not care for football, in fact she hated it. There is no lesser academic discipline than a few muscular guys crushing their remaining brain cells, while thinly clad bimbos drooled over them. To think that a University, of all places, would celebrate this made her cringe. As an African American, the subject was even more vexing. It is one of the few avenues for poor minority kids to get out of the ghetto. The actual odds of escaping poverty were vanishingly small, but the success of sports stars obfuscated this truth.
Liz felt she had to mix it up a little. «Guess!»
The man carefully looked her over, then asked unexpectedly: «What do I get if I guess correctly?»
Typical Scotsman she thought, and a pervert too perhaps. Let's give him what he wants.
«How about a drink?»
«A bit early, but I'll take it.» He cleared his throat, then said «Gainesville» in a nonchalant manner, ready to receive his reward.
«No way, how did you know?»
«An explanation will cost you extra» he said with a mischievous smile.
Liz checked her clothes. No tickets were visible anywhere. Even her bag had no address label. A mystery. Liz liked mysteries.
«I need to know, I'll buy you the best they got.»
«You might regret that.» (sounding more like rregrret)
«Don't worry about it.»
«Ok then. It's the glasses. The logo gave it away.»
Obviously! He had spotted the H0 logo for the Higg's Boson. The terrible nerd joke «Looking for the Higg's Boson - with glasses» was not so subtle after all. He then probably deduced that she was a particle physicist and presumably a University Professor. That left only two choices: Florida State or University of Florida, and given the more prestigious one, really only one choice. Her appreciation for her neighbor grew considerably.
«Nicely played, what are you having?»
Turning to the flight attendant, he said «A Glen Geery 73»
And a whisky connoisseur too. He even knows how to pronounce Glen Garioch correctly. It's like he is trying to show off. She was glad not to have lost that bet at the St Andrews Old course.
«Make that two.»
«Cheers» said the man.
«Slàinte mhath» said Liz.
Sipping the single malt brought back sweet memories from her studies in Edinburgh. The evenings would often commence with some folk music at Sandy Bell's. Later, a cab ride down to the Scotch Malt Whisky Society in Leith. A magnificient gentlemen's club, with an even more magnificient whisky collection. What's on the menu for tonight? Burnt tyres? Artist's paint shop? The descriptions were even more flowery and tongue-in-cheek than the names. Artsy and yet playful. Not the snobbery of the wine connoisseurs. Plus, it always left you guessing which distillery was behind the name. No preconceived biases that way. And some real surprises, like that 30-year-old Glen Grant. The perfect balance of malty and peaty, and the color of Coca-Cola.
Liz was woken from her slumber by a flight attendant. Her neighbor had long departed, in fact she was the last passenger on board. That night cap had worked pretty well Liz thought. She felt much refreshed. She was really looking forward to catching up with Chris and Daniele again. It had been over 8 years. How time flies. After her doctoral defense, and the obligatory postdocs at Princeton and Berkeley, she had already been an Assistant Professor for 5 years. Daniele had clearly yielded to his true passions, giving up his computer engineering degree for his culinary exploits. She wondered if Chris had ever finished his PhD in medieval history. He was such a chaotic, yet charming person.
2.
Later that day, the three of them met up at Daniele's restaurant. There was so much to talk about. Liz had loved her time in Scotland, but the dreary rainy winter days had taken their toll. She took the chance with both hands to move closer to the equator, and also closer to her folks back home.
In contrast, Daniele had completely fallen in love with Edinburgh, and decided to stay. His restaurant «Il bradipo» (the sloth) had won numerous awards for its Italian-Scottish fusion cuisine.
Chris had finished his PhD, and was now a lecturer in Norwich. He was an accomplished scholar in his field, even if his masterpiece «Medieval philosophy and the transcendentals» was read by perhaps thirty people in the world. Not that he cared.
«I'm not sure I want to eat the food of a skinny chef.» Liz teased Daniele. In fact, she was quite jealous that he could keep in shape in spite of the rich and deliciously decadent food that he was serving.
«I'm like a black hole, all the mass disappears into an infinitely small space.» Daniele joked.
«You have a lovely place, I am happy for you!» Liz said.
«When I saw the address, I thought it was a different type of establishment.» Chris said mischievously. Chris alluded to the street address on Cockburn Street, which was actually pronounced Coburn Street.
«Wait till later.» Daniele said with a wink.
They reminisced about their times in Edinburgh. They had met at one of Chris' infamous house parties. He seemed to know anybody and everybody.
«When did we first meet again?» Liz wondered.
«It was October 25 2000.» Daniele said with certitude. At the surprised looks of his friends, he added «I remember it clearly, because there was a girl that I fell in love with.»
«I remember that. She looked like a spitting image of Michelle Pfeiffer.» Chris said laughing.
«How did you get all those nice girls to show up?» Liz asked «Though the guys were not bad-looking either.»
«Well, you start with the girls, that's the key.» After a little pause, he added mysteriously «In fact, I must admit something that I have never told anyone, so I expect complete confidentiality.»
Knowing that he had their attention, he whispered «I paid them to show up.»
«No way, they were hookers?» Daniele said in disgust.
«They were not hookers, just some college girls trying to earn a few bob.» Chris protested not very convincingly.
«Sounds like a very transactional deal to me.» Daniele said, still annoyed.
«Did they render any sexual services?» Liz asked.
Liz knew she was pushing the envelope a bit, since Daniele had since outed himself.
«No, I did not get lucky if that's what you mean.» he barked.
«Then I would not consider it prostitution. Though it was pretty cheeky of you.» Liz said with a fake reproachful look.
The evening's banter continued unabated. Things were clouded by the very tense political situation in Europe, which might even result in, God forbid, nuclear war. The friends did not want to ruin their evening with such depressing news.
Daniele caught someone's eye who just walked into the restaurant.
«Incidentally, there is someone I would like you to meet.» he said.
They noticed a very elegantly dressed lady. Though her gray hair somehow betrayed her age, her demeanor radiated wealth and power.
Daniele made the introductions «I present Madame Valérie Filon. These are Liz Vandermeer and Chris Harrison, the friends from University that I told you about.»
«Please call me Valérie» she said with a gracious smile.
«Madame Filon, I mean Valérie, has helped me tremendously in setting up the restaurant. Without a financial backer, it is almost impossible to succeed in this business.» Daniele explained.
The friends were just over dessert and coffees, and begged Valérie to join them.
«I gather you are French? Do you live in Edinburgh as well?» Chris asked to make conversation.
«Valérie is an extremely busy person.» Daniele said defensively.
«Let the lady speak for herself.» Liz said.
Daniele blushed.
«I work for a trust fund called Serendipity.» Valérie said.
Liz did not follow financial news closely, but even she had heard the name. It was a trust fund that managed trillions in assets all around the world.
«I am sorry to be nosy, but why does Serendipity invest in Daniele's restaurant?» Liz asked.
There was a moment of discomfort. Daniele coughed nervously, as Liz' directness often made him uneasy.
«A very valid question.» Valérie responded. «Let's say it was more of a more personal interest.»
The answer begged many more questions, and there was some tension in the air. Valérie quickly dissipated the awkward moment by inviting the friends over to Dunbar castle on the outskirts of Edinburgh for the following day. She had another appointment, and bid her farewell.
3.
The restored castle was impressive. In fact, it seemed more like a museum than a castle. As the butler opened the door, Liz could see Egyptian artifacts dotting the entrance hall.
«Do you think those are originals?» Liz whispered to Chris.
«I think so.» Chris said.
«This is only one of their properties.» Daniele added.
Valérie walked over to greet them.«I am glad you could make it. Let me give you a little tour.»
«As you will see, the exhibition is structured historically, though I must admit from a Eurocentric point of view. We are starting in the Egyptian age. Their civilization dates back three millennia before Christ, which is more than what has come afterwards.» Valérie started.
«This is the mask of Amenemhat I, who ruled around 2000 BC. His land reforms and irrigation plans rejuvenated Egyptian civilization. He is also known for the Walls-of-the-Ruler fortification that protected Egypt from foreign attacks from the East.»
«He was one of the outstanding leaders of the middle kingdom. But, as a former vizier, he was only a pretender to the throne. Legend has it that he poisoned Pharaoh Mentuhotep IV with cyanide extracts from apricot kernels.»
One could tell that Valérie delighted in giving these tours. Like a fountain, she seemed to spew out historical dates and facts; all the while spicing up the history lesson with appropriate anecdotes.
Daniele was in his element in the Roman section. He especially liked to talk about the many technological advances of the Romans, many of which were unfortunately lost in the dark ages. Then however, he became perplexed. There was a bust of a well-known emperor.
«I thought you only revered great leaders. What is Nero doing in here?»
Valérie explained herself «History is written by the victors. Let's call Nero's assisted suicide by its real name - it was an assassination. It is widely accepted that Nero had strong popular support in the Eastern provinces. Some of those followers even claimed that he had not died and would return. Nero reborn rebellions had to be put down on several occasions. It is hard to square this with the lunatic, sadistic Nero who burned down Rome.»
After admiring some Renaissance sculptures in the foyer, among them Michelangelo's Madonna of Bruges, the party entered a room with a very Baroque setting.
«Is that really what I think it is?» Chris asked incredulously.
He was referring to a colossal painting with life-sized characters. The painting was very dark, except for the two men in the center of the painting, on whom a ray of light shone.
«It's the Night Watch, yes.» Valérie said with some false modesty.
«I always knew the painting was in a private collection somewhere.» Chris said.
«The piece was acquired by one of my ancestors, François Filon, in 1646, only 4 years after it was painted by Rembrandt. It might otherwise have been destroyed in the Spanish siege of Leiden.» Valérie explained. «Rembrandt also made a smaller version of the painting, which hangs in the Rijksmuseum in Amsterdam.»
«Otherwise no-one would even know that it ever existed.» Chris said.
A mysterious smile briefly flashed on Valérie's lips.
Liz was glad when they moved onto more recent art history. She had always been a fan of impressionist art, and even more so the post-impressionist paintings of van Gogh. She had seen a collection of his works in Amsterdam before. Seeing the Wheatfield with Crows with her own eyes for the first time was something else though.
«The sadness, it almost suffocates you» she exclaimed.
«Some have speculated that the three paths represent the past, present and future. It may also represent the different paths you may choose in your life, giving perhaps completely different outcomes. That is the perverse nature of art. Beauty and interpretation are in the eye of the beholder.» Valérie said.
With the exception of Dali, the modern art section was rather small.
Valérie was apologetic. «I am not completely convinced yet by truly modern art. Perhaps I am a creature of the past.» she laughed.
They had seemingly arrived at the end of the exhibition, as they entered the Renaissance foyer again, where they had been previously.
«Well, that was truly impressive Valérie. Thanks so much for sharing your personal collection with us.» Chris said.
«There is a whole other wing that I have not even shown you.» Valérie said.
«What does it house? I thought the works were ordered chronologically.» Liz wondered.
«Those are the rejected pieces. But in fact, they are among my favorites.» Valérie said.
It was early in the day, and it seemed rude to turn down an invitation.
«The more, the merrier.» Chris said.
The party proceeded to the new wing. This collection exclusively contained gigantic wall-sized canvasses. The earliest dated from the 16th century. It was strange to Liz that only dates and titles were given, but that the artists' names had been omitted. It was also odd that that many of the paintings contained depictions of battles or executions. Where the previous exhibition was grandiose in its artistic rendering, these paintings were rather stale and uninspiring. What did Valérie see in these pieces, and why did she insist on showing them?
A painting with a military man on horseback caught Liz' attention. As the man pulled the reins, the horse pranced, while his finger pointed to large mountains in the background. Next to it was a painting of the same man in his study with his right hand inside his waistcoat. A third painting showed him wearing a crown in a cathedral.
«This looks like someone important, who was that Napoleon fella?» Liz asked Chris.
Chris looked confused. «I think we will need to ask Valérie.»
«I thought you were the history buff.» Liz teased Chris.
«You have to excuse Chris for not knowing Napoleon. We would now consider him to be a fictitious character.» Valérie explained.
«I am glad you confirmed that. I cannot make any rhyme or reason of the paintings that I see here.» Chris said.
«What do you mean by we would now consider him to be fictitious? Is he fiction or not?» Liz pressed.
«It depends on the point of view. As we walked through the castle, we got to a foyer. At that juncture we turned left. We could also have turned right. The outcome would have been a very different one.» Valérie said mysteriously.
The answer left her visitors even more confused. She continued:
«Let me tell you a story about Napoleon. He came to power after a bloody revolution where the king of France was beheaded, as were countless noblemen. The revolution drew the ire of the other European states, who were afraid that similar uprisings might topple their monarchies. As the French revolutionary army was struggling to fight a numerically superior enemy, a military genius, Napoleon, won impressive victories over the foreign forces. He then went on to invade almost the entire European continent. But he dared his luck too far, and was caught out by the Russian winter.»
Chris rolled his eyes. The previous anecdotes that Valérie had told them were probably made up, but they were amusing. This, however, was just strange. Why did she speak in riddles, and what was this all about? Daniele tried to defuse the situation, by drawing their attention to two giant paintings at the end of the hall.
The left canvas depicted soldiers in trenches being bombarded with mortars and bullets. The scene looked like a toxic waste land, further magnified by a green vapor that seemed to contaminate all. Many of the soldiers were wearing face masks, but those that were not seemed to suffer greatly. In the background, one saw countless dead bodies and graveyards as far as the horizon.
The right painting had even more disturbing scenes. Dejected-looking humans, including children, were being marched into what looked like factories with chimney stacks. The factories seemed to produce human skulls, that were heaped as high as the sky. The other side of the canvas showed huge rallies of people cheering a devilish character with mad eyes and a moustache.
«What is happening here? And why is one of them entitled the Great War 1914-1918? What could be great about such a massacre?» Daniele asked.
«Well, I think it is pretty self-explanatory. The Great War was the first war to be fought by many countries around the world. That's why it was also known by the name First World War. It was a war so horrendous, that it was thought to end all future wars. Though, that was a pipe dream. The war was mainly fought by trench warfare, a particulary bloody and costly way to lead a war. The Germans tried to break the gridlock by using poison gases, but they had no way to direct their attacks. They were at the mercy of which way the wind was blowing. It was the Allied use of tanks that finally turned the tide, and made the Germans capitulate. » Valérie lectured them.
«Ironically, it was the Germans who used tanks very effectively in the Second World War...» she continued.
«But we all know that the world has been remarkably free of warfare for the past 200 years. Those are truly fantastic, if disturbing stories Valérie. Where do you get them from?» Chris interrupted, his patience wearing thin.
«They are stories of an alternate reality. A reality that used to exist. This is why these memories are so precious to me. I want to conserve them, to remember what might have been.» Valérie said melancholically.
When Chris had listened to Valérie for the first part of the tour, he thought that she was one of the refined human beings that he had ever met. Now, he had the impression that she was a raving lunatic. He gave Liz and Daniele eye signals that he was ready to leave.
Yet the other two ignored him. Daniele was too enamored with Valérie. Besides, he owed her a lot, and so he would not make a fuss. Liz on the other hand was intrigued by the turn of the conversaton. She had often asked herself the question why this or that happened. Historians always seemed to rationalize events, as though the outcome was preordained; when to her it appeared that often things were on a knife's edge.
Valérie sensed Chris' irritation, and proceeded to tell another story.
«Once, there was a young boy riding a bicycle. He was hit by a car. The child fell very unluckily, causing an injury between the 5th and the 6th vertebrae of the spinal cord. Fortunately, an ambulance was on the scene within less than a minute. Even more fortunately, the ambulance had an expert on spinal cord injuries, who took great precautions that the boy did not suffer any permanent damage. Even one false movement...» Valérie said.
Before Valérie could finish, Chris shouted out: «How do you know about that?»
«Let's say you have had a guardian angel look out for you.» Valérie replied.
Chris felt like someone had taken the air out of his lungs. He had never told anyone about this childhood accident, not even his close friends Liz and Daniele. It was not that he was ashamed of it, not really anyway. It just interfered with his image as a nonchalent dandy, who could never be troubled by anyone or anything.
It was important to him to always be in control, or at least make it appear that way. Valérie was seriously upsetting that dynamic now. Just how did she know so much, and why was she revealing it now? Was it just some kind of power play? His mind was racing.
Having got their full attention, Valérie proceeded to ask another question directed at the group: «How do you think you all know each other?»
Turning to Liz. «Do you think that your family would have allowed you to study an arcane subject like particle physics, had it not been for the Fairbanks fellowship that you received?»
Now it was Liz' turn to get irritated. «What do you mean?»
«I think it should be obvious. Fate allowed you to study particle physics. Fate also later allowed you to go Edinburgh, where you worked for the renowned Peter Higgs. Being there, fate allowed you to meet Chris and Daniele. Those things were not inevitable.»
«You could say that about anybody's life. There will always be defining moments that decide how life plays out. What about all the lost opportunities that did not come to pass?» Chris interjected. He was trying desperately to regain the upper hand.
«I think this is all much more sinister. Valérie is implying that she made all of this happen.» Liz said. «That raises the question - why?»
«Indeed, and why tell us now?» Chris added.
After all the drama, Valérie's facial expression softened. They were finally taking her seriously on the possibility of an alternative reality. It was now time to tell them why she had invited them. «Because I have a connection to you from an alternate reality.» she said.
«It's a long story. I suggest you get comfortable. Once there were three friends...»
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© Credit for the art work goes to my children Emile and Winnie. All rights of this work are protected.