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“I still don’t understand why we’re visiting my old university,” Marlowe said. “Why, I haven’t been there in at least fifteen years. Everyone I knew is either dead or retired.”
An elderly woman in the front of the nearly empty bus glanced back at Dorning and the boy quizzically.
“Percival,” Dorning warned softly.
“Yes, yes. I know,” he replied, just as soft. “Afraid I’m having a little trouble remembering my thoughts no longer match my new, abbreviated appearance. Please bear with me, Dorning. Eventually I’ll learn to keep my mouth shut until I look old enough to know what I’m talking about.”
“Good. We don’t want the wrong people asking questions, now do we? I really wouldn’t want you to gain notoriety as some kind of boy wonder. We’ve agreed you’ll simply continue your work in private until some future date when people are finally ready to accept who you really are. Then you can say whatever you wish in public. But until that time—”
“I know, I know,” the professor cut him off. “That was our agreement. I’ll abide by it, really I will. I don’t want to be viewed as some kind of sideshow freak either.”
The bus gave a tired hiss as it came to a stop in front of the soaring stone arch framing the entrance to the old campus.
Dorning and Marlowe got off and waited with the rest of the passengers for their luggage. Dorning accepted his large suitcase and the professor his small one.
The professor hefted his suitcase, found it easily within his diminished means. “Well, well. Small clothes, light suitcase. I like it. Now, where did you say we were staying?” He looked towards the campus with sudden interest as he walked under the arch with Dorning.
“I didn’t. I wanted it to be a pleasant surprise. You’ll be delighted to hear that I’ve managed to arrange a stay in your former graduate apartment.”
Marlowe stopped then threw back his head and laughed. “Oh, no! Not that dilapidated old rat hole? I thought I had escaped that place forever!”
The professor walked along with a bounce to his step now, still laughing softly to himself, the suitcase swinging merrily beside him. “See that?” he pointed to a squat, one-story brick building, its limestone trim black from decades of soot and rain. “That was the first building on campus. I was one of the last ones to have a class in there before it became the university archives. When I started as a freshman, half these buildings weren’t even here.” He swung his head around and came to an abrupt halt. “Oh, my God.” He dropped the suitcase. “The tree!” He ran off the sidewalk, across the lawn towards a towering oak between two newer buildings.
Dorning picked up the abandoned suitcase and followed him into the shade under the long, high limbs.
“What is it, Professor?”
“It’s our tree, the class tree. We donated it to the university when I graduated. It was just a sapling. I helped plant it.”
Dorning craned his head back to look up at the tall, soaring branches. “No offense, Percival, but you are old, aren’t you?”
Marlowe smiled. “Yes. And you know what? I might actually outlive the class gift. I would have never even considered that possibility before.” He glanced down at himself. “But now look at me, full of youth and vigor again.” The professor turned to Dorning. “Thank you, Doctor. I might still have some misgivings about what we’ve done to that poor boy, but it’s wonderful to have a second chance.” He gazed up at the tree. A breeze made the leaves rustle softly in unison. “Just wonderful.” He ran a hand over his head, feeling the short, uniform length of his hair.
Dorning grinned wryly. “Professor, it was my honor to give you that second chance. The world will benefit greatly from all the scientific contributions you’ll undoubtedly make. Now, let’s go find that apartment of yours. Your suitcase is light, but mine is getting quite heavy.” He headed back towards the sidewalk.
Marlowe looked up one last time at the tree. Thank you, too, Miguel, he thought. Sorry you can’t enjoy the moment with me. Or are you?
The only answer was the tranquil sound of the leaves in the mild wind.
He turned and hurried to catch up with Dorning, who was trudging purposefully down the sidewalk. “Now just a minute, Doctor. How can your suitcase be getting heavier if you’re not adding mass to it? That flies in the face of the laws of physics, you know.”
Dorning laughed. “Oh, Percival, you know exactly what I meant.” He paused, looked down at the professor. “It’s so very good to have you back, to be able to talk to you again like this, you know. I hope I haven’t failed to make that clear.”
“No, you haven’t failed me at all, Doctor. In fact, you’ve done more for me than anyone could ever imagine.”
Dorning nodded once. “Thank you. But really, the pleasure was all mine. All mine. Now, where’s that apartment?” He pulled a folded college map out of his shirt pocket to get his bearings, squinting at it under the noonday sun.
The professor laughed lightly. “Forget the map, Doctor. Just follow me.”
They made their way past the library with its dozen Romanesque front pillars and the chapel with its twin bell towers to a plain wood-sided building tucked away at the edge of the campus. Behind it was the silvery dome of the university’s observatory.
Marlowe stopped and grinned at the dome. “Well, well, what do you know? It’s still there. You have no idea how many hours I spent glued to the eyepiece of that turn-of-the-century Clark refractor, freezing my ass off in the winter.”
“Sounds perfectly dreadful.”
The professor stared happily at the observatory. “No. Those are some of my fondest memories of this place.” He turned his attention to the apartment building and his grin disappeared. “Well, for God’s sake, they’re still painting it that same awful salmon color.”
Together they went inside. Dorning reached into his shirt pocket again for another piece of paper.
“Don’t bother,” Marlowe said. “It’s apartment number six upstairs. This way.” He took the stairs two at a time.
Dorning followed, still carrying both suitcases. He set the suitcases down in front of the door where the professor waited anxiously.
“Better let me do the talking since I made the arrangements. And by the way, don’t believe everything I’m about to say.”
“Understood.”
Dorning rapped on the door.
Seconds later it flew open, revealing a skinny, shirtless college student with a toothbrush stuck in his mouth. “Ah!” He removed the brush. “You must be Dr. Dorning. And you must be Percival Marlowe’s nephew. Good to have both of you here.” He stepped aside to let them in.
“Pleased to meet you.” Dorning picked up the suitcases and carried them inside.
The professor followed slowly, gazing quietly at everything in view.
The student noticed the boy’s interest.
“Sorry about the apartment. I guess it’s kind of a dump.” He resumed brushing his teeth.
Marlowe peered into the familiar kitchen, seeing it had hardly changed. Even the old-fashioned gas stove was familiar. “I know,” he said.
The student removed the brush again and laughed. “You know? Is it that obvious? Hey, we try to keep a clean place, but it’s hard, what with studying and all.” He went back to vigorous brushing, clearly amused by the boy’s remark.
Dorning secretly tapped on the professor’s shoulder to warn him.
Marlowe realized his mistake and put a finger to his lips to signal he would be silent.
The student tossed the toothbrush aside, grabbed a t-shirt from the dining room table, and pulled it on. “Glad you showed up on time. I don’t have any classes tomorrow, so I’m getting an early start on the weekend and cutting out. I’ll give you my key; you can leave it with the apartment director when you go. He lives in apartment one.”
The professor nodded but said nothing.
“Good. Thank you so much for allowing us to stay in your place.”
“Not a problem, especially since I don’t own anything worth stealing.” He laughed and then looked serious. “Besides, anything for the nephew of Percival Marlowe. He was a great, great man, wasn’t he? I’m glad you wanted to see where your uncle lived when he went to school. You know, this may sound crazy, but ever since he died it’s like I can almost feel his presence here late at night sometimes, like he’s come back for some mysterious reason.” The student’s hands went up as if in surrender and his eyes grew slightly misty as if he could see the apparition now.
“Really?” Dorning replied dryly. “That does sound crazy.”
The student dropped his arms and his acne-scarred face turned slightly red. “Oh. Sorry.” He looked apologetically at the boy. “Didn’t mean to scare you or anything. Anyway, here’s my key. I better get going. There’s food in the fridge if you’re hungry.”
“Thank you. We’ll compensate you for it.”
“That’s okay. It’s my roommate’s. Enjoy your stay. See you later sometime.”
The student hurried from the apartment.
Dorning grunted as he closed the door. “Percival Marlowe’s ghost,” he said scornfully.
The professor grinned. “Here I am. Boo!” He mimicked the student’s expression.
Dorning laughed. “If he only knew the truth, eh? Now that would scare him.”
Marlowe’s grin faded.
“Why are we here, Dorning? You said something about renewing old ties, yet I was quite serious on the bus. There’s literally no one left here that I know.”
“I didn’t mean ties with people you used to know, Percival. I meant ties with the university. I thought coming here from time to time might assist you in obtaining a scholarship someday.”
“Isn’t that a little premature? And why this particular university? I know it’s my alma mater, but is there another reason I should be aware of?”
Dorning nodded reluctantly. “Yes, there is. Let’s sit down now that we can talk in private.”
They went to the living room and sat across from one another.
“Are you hungry?” Dorning asked. “I could see what there is to eat.”
“No. I would just like an explanation for this field trip we’re on.”
Dorning took a deep breath, folding his hands as if in prayer. “I want you to remember being the professor, to have as many old memories triggered as possible just as soon as possible. I thought this would be an excellent place to start.”
“Does this have anything to do with ensuring I remain the professor?”
“Yes. My most recent experiments with . . . uh . . . my other test subjects—”
“You mean your animal experiments—the mice, the guinea pigs, the primates you were able to procure.”
“Yes. My most recent experiments showed there were far fewer relapses back to the recipient when the environment was familiar to the subject whose memories were implanted. For example, if the test subject had learned a maze, and then those memories were transplanted, by putting the recipient of those memories into the same maze, the subject’s memories were restored sooner with fewer, shorter relapses than test subjects not exposed to familiar surroundings. Apparently, we can speed up the process significantly without doing any harm, which is very good news.” He glanced away and shook his head. “I wish I had known that earlier. You would be much . . . further along.”
Marlowe nodded. “And so here I am, running us through the maze of the sprawling campus like an obedient, well-trained rat so I won’t have a relapse. How very thoughtful of you.” His humorless gaze was unyielding.
Dorning shrank a bit, his hands still folded. “I do not equate you with the mice, Professor. You know very well many medical procedures are first tested on animals before human trials begin.”
“Yes, that’s true, Doctor. But I’m afraid that doesn’t prevent me from feeling like one of those test animals, particularly since I’m the first, and perhaps the last, person to ever undergo your procedure.” He rapped his knuckles on the coffee table between them. “So, is that it? You want me to take in the sights, reminisce about old times? I can do that. Is there anything else I should know about?”
Dorning hesitated. “Yes. You should probably be aware I had a little problem with the boy.”
The professor’s mouth fell open. “Problem? What kind of problem? Not medical, I hope. I’ve already had more than my share of those.”
“No. You’re in excellent health. The boy was just reluctant to allow you to have—shall we say—full-time access. He was apparently unhappy his own memories and personality will eventually be supplanted by yours and demanded I create some kind of impossible time-share arrangement, if you can imagine that,” he scoffed lightly. “I told him from the very beginning what was involved. and he willingly went along with our plans. I didn’t understand his objection considering I went through great pains to explain his role in the procedure.”
Marlowe’s expression turned mournful. “How could you expect him to really understand, Dorning? He was just a boy. How many adults would have really understood the sacrifice you were expecting? Being told what would happen and then actually experiencing it are two very different things.” He stared past Dorning, his gaze now anxious. “I wish I could do a time-share with him. He basically gave up his chance to have his own future so I could continue mine. When I realized you had somehow managed to perfect your technique, I tried to tell him I was sorry. Now I wish I had had the courage to tell him to run away just as fast as he could.”
The professor suddenly looked puzzled as he focused his attention on Dorning again. “You know, you never did explain to me how you overcame what seemed like an insurmountable problem with your technique. What did you do at the end there to finally achieve complete memory transfer instead of partial, which is what I thought would happen? Your results are nothing short of phenomenal, Doctor. If you were willing to publish them, you would easily win the Nobel Prize for medicine. You could be a giant like I was.”
“And will be again,” Dorning added cheerfully. Then his optimistic expression faded. “I’m afraid I can’t publish my research just yet. Remember, we’re trying to keep you under wraps for a while until people are ready to accept the wisdom of what we’ve done. In the meantime, my research will continue. There are still some issues that . . . need to be addressed.”
Marlowe shrugged then looked anxious again. “All that doesn’t help the boy much, does it? I’m glad to be alive, yet some people would argue the cost was too high, and it would be very hard to argue they were wrong.”
“Nonsense,” Dorning replied. “As I’ve said before, there are any number of people who would have volunteered to do exactly what the boy did so you can continue your invaluable research.” He proudly held up an index finger. “After all, there’s only one Percival Marlowe in the world.”
The professor eyed him coolly. “And there was only one Miguel,” he replied.
Isn’t that right, Miguel? he thought defiantly.
But the only answer was the doctor’s indifferent gaze.