 CHAPTER 8 (section 3) copyright © 2001, S. Y. Affolee The lecture hall that Gina led them to was a steep auditorium where all of the chairs were plastered against the sheer drop of steps that plunged more than thirty feet down into the pit where the podium and the chalk boards sat. She beckoned Simone and Adrian to follow her to the back seats which also were the highest seats. “If you don’t mind, it’s nap time for me,” Gina told them as she put on her unusual sunglasses. She leaned back and propped her legs up on the seat in front of her and apparently promptly went to sleep. Simone raised an eyebrow. “Is this an indication that we’re going to listen to a very boring lecture?” “Boring or no, which one of those people do you suppose is the kid we’re looking for?” “He always wears black,” Gina mumbled. “With a bright silver buckle the size of Greenland. Can’t miss him. Always manages to have someone on his arm.” Simone peered down to the first row of lecture seats. All she saw were the top of heads and maybe a glimpse of notebooks and pencils. “Can’t see anybody in this. Do you think we might be able to catch him right after the class?” “We could also try to snag the professor,” Adrian said, nodding to a woman just entering the room. She narrowed her eyes. The woman, Fitzgerald, was a brunette who had managed to confine her curly locks into a bun at the nape of her neck. She wore horn-rimmed glasses and a very conservative beige suit. But that did not hide the fact that she was extremely well endowed. “I see.” She looked suspiciously up at Adrian who only shrugged. “I guess the kids weren’t kidding.” “Ha. I know exactly what’s going through your dirty mind,” she said crossing her arms. “Dirty mind or no, I still remember that she might have more information on what we’re looking for.” Simone was about to say something, when Fitzgerald shot the class, which by now had filled up to capacity, with a sharp look. “Some brief announcements,” she began unceremoniously, “Concerning the previous homework set. Evidently the last problem was incorrectly graded. Go to see one of the teaching assistants after class to get points back. And a reminder that the final paper is due next week. The final exam is two weeks from now. I am hoping that there will be an improvement from midterms.” There were a few discrete dismayed groans from the audience. “Very well. Today we’re going to discuss the philosophy that developed during eighteenth century Europe. A sort of enlightenment, shall we say, about the thinking processes that permeated the continent during this time. Can anyone tell me, intuitively, why this was so?” No one raised their hand. A slight frown creased her face. “People were beginning to realize that the barbarism of the previous ages, particularly the Middle Ages and their fanatical witch burnings were not the way to go in obtaining a civilized society. And as all of you should know, the nineteenth century was rife with the Industrial Revolution which exploded in England and permeated throughout the rest of the continent as well as to the Americas. Therefore the thinking processes of say Aristotle where pure thought and mathematics were valued, turned toward the more practical, more mechanical aspects that dealt more with hard science, innovation, and emerging technology.” The professor said a few more words before turning off the light and turning on the overhead projector where she put in a transparency with an outline of the day’s lecture. Simone sighed and sat back, thinking that Gina’s carefree attitude on the whole affair was probably best, especially if the book the student was carrying was any indication. The textbook on European history was authored by none other than the professor herself, Olivia Fitzgerald, PhD. “Do you have the feeling,” Adrian whispered in her ear, “that she has no idea what she’s talking about?” Simone told herself not to laugh. “Yeah. Maybe that’s why none of the students want to ask a question. It might bring down her entirely too flimsey pyramid of arguments.” “Needless to say, despite the emergence of Newtonian physics and other classical ideas of thoughts on the universe and life in general,” Fitzgerald droned as she began pacing across the floor, various parts of her anatomy wiggling as if they had life of their own, “The politics of the time were not as ideal. In fact they were inherently corrupt. Votes were paid for, bought for, cheated, swindled, blackmailed, murdered, so on and so forth. As power increased, so did the corruption and sooner than later, the heads of state began proclaiming their own intentions, doing whatever they wanted to do with no one else in the way. It was only with very difficult struggle and anyone else broke through it all. But there were things during this period of corruption that many historians overlooked simply because studying the discontent of unwashed masses was more interesting.” She changed the transparency to one that showed a picture of a crest that remarkably resembled the carving that Thomson possessed, down to the guarding lion and unicorn and the shield that held the pedestal, griffin and some unidentifiable beast. Simone was almost positive that the words on the bottom were identical to the ones carved on Thomson’s monstrosity. “This is a crest of an unknown elitist cult during the time. An example of a more well known one were the Free Masons. I hope you’ve heard of them. The corruption in politics did not just confine itself in the secular world. Oh no, it also seeped into the religious world, particularly the Church at the time who turned a blind eye on any such dealings. They even turned a blind eye on such groups like the Free Masons.” Fitzgerald frowned again. “Although much of the Church I think were duped into thinking that such groups were mere political factions, they were indeed heretics in hiding if you will who had their own brand of perverted worship, specializing more famously in occult and arcane studies.” “But the important thing was their influence. You can see the decay of the heads of state correlating with the unseen rise in power of these background groups. It wasn’t until the leaders of these groups were routed were things put back so to speak. But I think, that was just a blip to most of the people living in those times. An example of the erroneous ways which human beings could fall into. For remember, it was the beginning of Enlightenment. Philosophy was paramount in that people believed that human beings were meant to seek perfection in mechanical innovation, society, and other things at large.” Perfection indeed, Simone thought sourly as she jabbed her partner in the ribs to keep him awake. Her lecturing style was far from engaging despite the visual acrobatics that was keeping all the males in the room except Adrian awake. “Ow,” he whispered. “What did you do that for?” “You were beginning to snore. I don’t understand why you’re falling asleep.” “She’s boring.” “Aren’t you even looking at her?” “Been there, done that.” “Excuse me?” said Simone not believing her ears. “Had a professor just like her once,” said Adrian. “Except he was a man of course. Droned on and on about the Enlightenment and how it was good for you and so forth. Never got anywhere during that term.” “Well...” “I can tell you’ve never been to a history lecture.” “I was a business and economics major.” “Figures. See the transparencies? Classic hallmark of a lecture dud. Good lecturers don’t need props.” “So is that why all the lectures I’ve attended had profs mumbling to the blackboard?” “Could be.” The lights finally came on and the students rustled, getting out of their seat. Beside them Gina yawned and took off her glasses to rub her eyes. “Another hour down,” the student mumbled. Adrian tapped Simone’s shoulder. “Come on, if we hurry, maybe we’ll be able to catch her.” She nodded, following him as he easily cut through the onslaught of exiting undergraduates. |