The Happy Haven by James Gerard (suggested reading txt) 📖

found it difficult to fault Scott for the desire to escape since he too at times suffered from the same suppressive and suffocating control of his parents.  But what Bill found more peculiar was how the subject was suddenly changed to an attack against a discipline that was sacred to them all.

 

To actually hear the words stated by Scott, the beliefs, the accusations, and that everything he and the others were doing in the name of science was a matter of propagating a bunch of mistruths was shocking.  The emotionless, succinct accountings turned into a tirade laced with sarcastic tones in speaking about his refusal to comply.

 

At that point, Scott stated with a low grumble, “They viewed me as an embarrassment.  But that didn’t lead to, as you said it, being ‘blackballed.'   Worse, they cut me off from my inheritance, which, as you can see led me to such a fine establishment as this.”  He raised his glass into the air, “Join me young William in a toast to my beloved parents: May God have mercy on their souls.”

 

“Wow, that’s right,” chuckled Bill, “they were religious weren’t they?”

 

“You mean hypocrites?  Yes they were.  Wealth was the object of their worship, not God.”

 

Bill laughed.  “They say God is supposed to be this all powerful, all knowing entity.  Isn’t he supposed to stop people from doing that?”

 

“My friend, from what they taught me that would be the correct assumption.  But unfortunately for me, it seems God had better things to do that day than to stop them from screwing their only son.”

 

“You don’t believe in the lie do you Scott?”

 

“Well my logical friend, in order for a lie to exist a truth must lie in opposition; or something like that.”

 

“But….”

 

“Forget about all this God talk,” Scott blurted out, “it’s not like your fine, brilliant, scientific mind would even consider the idea.”

 

“I was just curious.”  Bill wanted to force the issue in order to better gauge Scott’s current scientific views, but an unassuming voice spoke up and told him to let it go for now.

 

“So, what have you been up to?” asked Scott.

 

“I thought you knew?”

 

“My friend, once I declined the substantial offer of riches he went into no further details.”

 

“He?  You mean the group’s representative?”

 

“That would be him.”

 

“Do you know him?  Do you even know his name?”

 

“No young Bill.  The gentleman in question was not so kind as to offer his identity.  With such secrecy, I bet whatever it is he has you four working on is pretty big.”

 

“I guess it’s sort of big.”

 

Scott leaned in, “What?  You’ve pinpointed the exact moment of the big bang?”

 

“No.”

 

“Oh my god, you’ve made fusion possible?”

 

“No.”

 

“Dark matter!  You've capture a sampling of dark matter?”

 

“No.”

 

“Oh you didn’t,” Scott whispered.  “You discovered the Higgs boson—oh wait, someone just did that.  Oh well, whatever it is you four are working on you’ve been given ample incentive to do so.  Just think young Bill about all that money and all that carnal pleasure.  All that is missing is power and you would have all three of mens' great motivators.”

 

Bill smirked, “That’s quite an imagination you’ve developed Scott.”

 

“Then what are you guys up to?”

 

“Can’t tell you, except it’s based on some crackpot’s babblings from the past.”

 

“Oh young lad, again with the secrecy.  Would you care to share the name of the esteemed scientist?”

 

“Do you even care Scott?  Correct me if I’m wrong, but the dossier indicates that you’ve given up on science.”

 

“Given up my friend?  To answer that, let me see if I can explain it to you in a way we both can understand.  Bartender, a fresh glass if you would be so kind.”

 

Scott handed the young woman a hundred dollar bill after setting the glass on the table.   

 

“Let’s say that everything we’ve studied and believe is represented by this one glass, a seemingly perfect instrument to hold liquid.  But you have to consider how perfect it really is.”

 

Scott filled the glass up to the brim.

 

“Liken the glass to an instrument and the alcohol as data.  You see, the instrument has captured the data perfectly, but we have to consider flaws and misconceptions about the instrument’s perfection.  For one, a chip on the rim could produce a cut on the lip thereby skewing or contaminating the data.  The glass is open, making the data susceptible to spills, which would make the remaining data incomplete.  Then there is evaporation, which again compromises the data.  And watch.”  The glass was dropped to the ground shattering it to pieces.  “Now the data is gone.  Bartender, another instrument immediately.”

 

“What are you saying?”

 

“Look around Bill.  Do you think anyone in here cares about the origins of the universe or about any of the theories that try to explain why the universe is and what it is made of?  They just want to live life.  And Bill, you wrongly debase this place.  You see The Happy Haven as some crappy bar, but it’s far more than that.  It’s a place for our friends during rough times.  It’s a place where no money is needed for meals for themselves and their children, no rent needed for one of the apartment upstairs.”

 

“Charity Scott?  Charity for the common man?”

 

“Mock it as you may Bill, but tell me since you still believe in what you do, what great thing has your fathers done for us?”

 

“Plenty.  Beginning with….”

 

“A bit of friendly advice my dear, old friend,” Scott blurted out, “remove yourself from whatever you guys are working on before you find yourselves failing miserably.  Besides, to tell you the truth, I never did think you were ever that good.”

 

“What!”

 

“Look, don’t get me wrong, I like you Bill, I always have.  I mean you have the right pedigree, but it never came easy for you did it?  You always had to work especially hard at it.  I always thought that you’d get that and move on to a life more suitable to your talents and not get caught up in a quest to seek the lies of such meaningless crap.”

 

“How could you say that?”

 

“Do you know why I gave up?  Do you know why I had no interest in pursuing it anymore?  The mysteries, physics, intelligent design have you, and all the questions we will never answer because  like those shards of glass on the floor, so too are our instruments—the data is flawed Bill.  Consider this, we are living, breathing flesh capable of intelligent thought, thoughts that let us ponder how we came to be, yet we came to be out of unintelligent stuff floating around space.”

 

“You can’t be serious?” shouted Bill.   Are you saying you actually believe in a god that created everything?  Come back to reality Scott and leave the booze behind.”

 

“Whoa there buddy, settle down.  God, intelligent design, science—none of it matters.  But if it’s so damn important to you, tell me, what are you guys up to?”

 

“I can’t say,” Bill answered.

 

“Pretty damn loyal aren’t you.  But be warned, loyalties are also like those shards of glass.”

 

“Now what does that mean?”

 

“Hell, I don’t know.  I’m really, really drunk right now.  But, if you tell me what you came here for I just might tell you.”

 

“I can’t Scott.”

 

“Okay then.  Don’t tell me.”

 

“I have to be going,” said Bill.  “This was a huge mistake coming here.”

 

“Come on Bill, don’t feel that way.  The fun is just beginning.  Have another drink.”

 

“Good seeing you again Scott,” said Bill.  He stood then scurried through the door.

 

“You’re welcomed back anytime my friend,” he heard Scott shout.

 

Stepping back into the light of day brought a sense of relief from exiting the dark and smelly bar.  While he searched out the directions to return to the suite, a sudden urge to flee the area as fast as possible compelled him to the curb and search out a taxi cruising the street.

 

After minutes passed, Bill looked to the left and a cab was finally spotted.   Shouts accompanied by flailing arms flagged down the taxi.  Entering the back seat Bill told the driver of the desired address while handing him a twenty dollar bill.

 

The driver sped away as Bill turned around and looked at the bar’s sign, The Happy Haven, fading fast in the distance.

 

Just a Joke

 The attention rapidly moved between the Rolex and magazine stand.  Whether the currier was a man or a woman, tall or short, thin or heavy, decked out in a tailor made suit or draped in loose fitting, casual clothing, carrying a briefcase, plain paper bag, or some sort of tote, Bill did not know.  But whoever was the currier was of no matter at the moment.  Nine o’clock was the center of attention.

 

While the minutes passed, anxiety levels ran high in thinking that a message might have been missed due to the unproductive meeting with Scott.   And even though the employer’s representative had not dispatched a single person last night to ascertain the reason for failing to abide by the agreements stipulated by the contract, Bill could not rule out the possibility that such an encounter could occur once inside the shop.

 

With minutes to go, he stared at the entrance waiting to catch sight of anyone who approached the entrance with purposeful steps, business like mannerisms, and a face that lacked emotion.  The only other information he considered while scanning the sidewalk was that whoever the person was, he or she received a generous fee to follow instructions to the letter.  And based on the seriousness of the project, he doubted that the currier would come down the sidewalk singing and dancing making it obvious of his or her newfound riches.

 

The Rolex chimed aloud.  The time was nine o’clock.

 

Not wanting to alert anyone who might have been watching, Bill opted to turn right and headed down the sidewalk to cross at the intersection.  Glances to the left and the right and of just inside the entrance to the shop spotted no one staring while standing in a firm position.  Only the cashier and a few customers glancing at the racks of magazines were present.

 

The attention then focused down the middle aisle, to the spot where the particular magazine should be sitting.

 

“Yes,” he softly whispered.  Bill marched to the spot and grabbed the magazine, threw a twenty at the cashier as he rushed by the counter, and bolted for the exit.

 

He fought hard against hands just itching to tear off the cellophane and battled the impulse to rip open the magazine.  A slight gap in the parade of cars screaming by on both sides of the street sent him darting across and into the coffee lounge.

 

One of the workers tending to a customer at the counter smiled and waved hello, but the greeting was ignored.   Dashing to a back booth, hands ripped off the cellophane wrapping.  Fingers tore apart the seals.  With eyes closed, he longed to see a message.  Whether the message signified a time and day to come in with answer in hand or whether to pass the answer along in a message didn’t matter, for he just desired an end to the madness and to the ridiculous request.

 

A fist pounded the table.  “Come on guys!”

 

A throbbing pain erupted in his head.   The thought of having to pursue the request further tortured the mind.  Out of absolute desperation, the temptation to provide a false answer and dispatch it immediately crossed the thoughts.  After all, he knew Kevin, Terry, or Paul