The Crimster
First Post
Sergeant Canter nods at Randy's description of the events.
"Oh, sure. In the heat of a firefight, you can lose all track of time. Plus... I wouldn't be surprised if your vision and your hearing were affected by two blasts from the shotgun. Don't worry about it. I'm sure we'll catch up with 'Bobby' soon enough." He nods to everyone. "I'll be leaving now. If I have any more questions, I will call." He leaves the kitchen, and a moment later you hear the front door open and close behind him.
Everything is quiet, with the exception of the rain hitting the window. It is still raining fiercely out there, and the storm seems to still be hovering over the house.
Julia looks down at her tea, and swirls it with her spoon. When she starts her story, her voice is low - almost as if she is talking to herself. Her voice never wavers, never falters, despite what the day has brought.
"When Alan first started to teach at the College, he was very well liked. He made quite a few friends among the faculty, the students loved him, and even the administration took a liking to him. I think it had to do with the fact he was so charismatic. And smart, of course. Some of you only met him in the past few years. He still had a bit of his charm, but..." She trails off for a second, and then continues. "It had to do with his drinking. Alan was an alcoholic for most of his 20's, 30's, and 40's. His father was one as well, so perhaps he got it from him. But Alan would always be open to have a beer with his fellow teachers, or even, sometimes - his students. Only the good ones, the ones who were adults, and who shared his fascination with mathematics. Alan liked nothing more than to have a beer with someone bright and debate the meaning of math and life." Julia looks up at each of you. "You must understand, this was quite some time ago. These days, a teacher wouldn't dare even compliment a girl on how beautiful her dress was, for fear of a lawsuit. But back then... the relationship between a teacher and his students was different. Alan sometimes learned more from his students than he ever did when he went to college." Julia takes a drink from her tea and scrunches her nose. "Cold. I'm going to make some more." As she putters about in the kitchen, she continues.
"It was in 1979 that it happened. A group of students, 12 of them - asked Alan if they could join him on the weekends. To talk about math, of course. They loved it as much as he did, and for many of them - the love for math started with Alan. He was that good. So, late at night on Saturdays, or sometimes even Sundays... Alan would meet with these students in his classroom. They would debate the latest math theories out of Harvard, construct the most complex puzzles for each other... all to challenge each other. No credit for school, either! Each of them were geniuses. Perhaps a bit sheltered, and yes... perhaps they were what you might call 'geeks' - but they were good kids. I would sometimes attend their get-togethers, but I would just sit and watch. It was way above me, of course. But once Alan began to bring alcohol to the meetings, I stopped coming. I didn't want to be a part of that, and I told him. He saw it as harmless." Julia sits back at the table, waiting for the water to boil. Her hands are slightly shaking, but her voice is still strong.
"It was December 1st, 1979. Alan didn't come home from his meeting with the i Society, as they began to call themselves. I didn't know until the next morning. And when I noticed, I immediately called the campus security. They found him, and the other students. They were... still in the class. They weren't sleeping, exactly. Most were staring at the walls, as if seeing through them. Some were crying. None of the twelve or Alan could speak coherently. Later, no one could recall what happened." Julia places her hands on the table, one on top of the other, as if to stop them from shaking.
"All of them were taken to the hospital, where they stayed for three days. Alan came home the second day, though. He recovered faster. The doctors said there was nothing wrong with them physically - but all of them were suffering from some form of catatonia. None could remember any details of what happened. The police found the cans of beer, and quite a few of the students had drugs. Marijuana, I think - but I think it possible there were other drugs there, too. But the campus covered it up, as it does to most problems. They gave Alan a pay cut, and made sure that he never became head of the math department. And he was fine with that... Because in the months after, he became more concerned with the kids."
The water for the tea begins to boil, and Julia gets up from the table to pour her tea. Kristof looks at the table thoughtfully, and rubs his upperlip with his thumb. Julia grabs her teacup and sits down, and begins to stir in a cube of sugar.
"Over the next year, everything fell apart for the kids. All of them dropped out. Out of the 12, three of them committed suicide fairly quickly. They left no note, nor spoke to anyone of their problems. Each just put a gun to their head, or a razor to their wrists, and ended it.
"Four more were put into various asylums, each so mentally unbalanced that their parents had no choice. Tracy, the young girl that wrote Alan that note, was one of them. She was a member of the i Society. She held on... so long. But in the end, she couldn't deal with day to day life. She once told me that if she didn't get locked away from all the sharp instruments in the world, she might end up hurting herself. I still visit her from time to time. She is no better, though it has been twenty years.
"There remains five to tell you about. Four of them have just lived day to day - taking odd jobs here and there, perhaps working at McDonalds like poor Bobbie does." Julia sniffs, as if holding back more tears. "Such bright kids... So smart... And all that wasted because of... whatever happened. Some, like Alister, simply lived on the streets. Sane enough to avoid asylums, not sane enough to hold a job." Julia takes a sip from her tea. "The last one, Tyler - was the only one of the 12 to ever have a job. He worked at a bank, I think.
"And even though Alan was there... and in some way might be responsible for what happened to them - the kids still loved him. After that December, they saw him as something... great. They called him the Scarlet King, and I was his Queen. They would never harm us. Or... so I thought... Oh, Sam!" Julia begins to cry once more, her sobs coming from deep in her chest.
OOC: Any questions for poor Julia? Or just let her continue? Next post will be Sunday June 2nd 2002 ~10am EST.
"Oh, sure. In the heat of a firefight, you can lose all track of time. Plus... I wouldn't be surprised if your vision and your hearing were affected by two blasts from the shotgun. Don't worry about it. I'm sure we'll catch up with 'Bobby' soon enough." He nods to everyone. "I'll be leaving now. If I have any more questions, I will call." He leaves the kitchen, and a moment later you hear the front door open and close behind him.
Everything is quiet, with the exception of the rain hitting the window. It is still raining fiercely out there, and the storm seems to still be hovering over the house.
Julia looks down at her tea, and swirls it with her spoon. When she starts her story, her voice is low - almost as if she is talking to herself. Her voice never wavers, never falters, despite what the day has brought.
"When Alan first started to teach at the College, he was very well liked. He made quite a few friends among the faculty, the students loved him, and even the administration took a liking to him. I think it had to do with the fact he was so charismatic. And smart, of course. Some of you only met him in the past few years. He still had a bit of his charm, but..." She trails off for a second, and then continues. "It had to do with his drinking. Alan was an alcoholic for most of his 20's, 30's, and 40's. His father was one as well, so perhaps he got it from him. But Alan would always be open to have a beer with his fellow teachers, or even, sometimes - his students. Only the good ones, the ones who were adults, and who shared his fascination with mathematics. Alan liked nothing more than to have a beer with someone bright and debate the meaning of math and life." Julia looks up at each of you. "You must understand, this was quite some time ago. These days, a teacher wouldn't dare even compliment a girl on how beautiful her dress was, for fear of a lawsuit. But back then... the relationship between a teacher and his students was different. Alan sometimes learned more from his students than he ever did when he went to college." Julia takes a drink from her tea and scrunches her nose. "Cold. I'm going to make some more." As she putters about in the kitchen, she continues.
"It was in 1979 that it happened. A group of students, 12 of them - asked Alan if they could join him on the weekends. To talk about math, of course. They loved it as much as he did, and for many of them - the love for math started with Alan. He was that good. So, late at night on Saturdays, or sometimes even Sundays... Alan would meet with these students in his classroom. They would debate the latest math theories out of Harvard, construct the most complex puzzles for each other... all to challenge each other. No credit for school, either! Each of them were geniuses. Perhaps a bit sheltered, and yes... perhaps they were what you might call 'geeks' - but they were good kids. I would sometimes attend their get-togethers, but I would just sit and watch. It was way above me, of course. But once Alan began to bring alcohol to the meetings, I stopped coming. I didn't want to be a part of that, and I told him. He saw it as harmless." Julia sits back at the table, waiting for the water to boil. Her hands are slightly shaking, but her voice is still strong.
"It was December 1st, 1979. Alan didn't come home from his meeting with the i Society, as they began to call themselves. I didn't know until the next morning. And when I noticed, I immediately called the campus security. They found him, and the other students. They were... still in the class. They weren't sleeping, exactly. Most were staring at the walls, as if seeing through them. Some were crying. None of the twelve or Alan could speak coherently. Later, no one could recall what happened." Julia places her hands on the table, one on top of the other, as if to stop them from shaking.
"All of them were taken to the hospital, where they stayed for three days. Alan came home the second day, though. He recovered faster. The doctors said there was nothing wrong with them physically - but all of them were suffering from some form of catatonia. None could remember any details of what happened. The police found the cans of beer, and quite a few of the students had drugs. Marijuana, I think - but I think it possible there were other drugs there, too. But the campus covered it up, as it does to most problems. They gave Alan a pay cut, and made sure that he never became head of the math department. And he was fine with that... Because in the months after, he became more concerned with the kids."
The water for the tea begins to boil, and Julia gets up from the table to pour her tea. Kristof looks at the table thoughtfully, and rubs his upperlip with his thumb. Julia grabs her teacup and sits down, and begins to stir in a cube of sugar.
"Over the next year, everything fell apart for the kids. All of them dropped out. Out of the 12, three of them committed suicide fairly quickly. They left no note, nor spoke to anyone of their problems. Each just put a gun to their head, or a razor to their wrists, and ended it.
"Four more were put into various asylums, each so mentally unbalanced that their parents had no choice. Tracy, the young girl that wrote Alan that note, was one of them. She was a member of the i Society. She held on... so long. But in the end, she couldn't deal with day to day life. She once told me that if she didn't get locked away from all the sharp instruments in the world, she might end up hurting herself. I still visit her from time to time. She is no better, though it has been twenty years.
"There remains five to tell you about. Four of them have just lived day to day - taking odd jobs here and there, perhaps working at McDonalds like poor Bobbie does." Julia sniffs, as if holding back more tears. "Such bright kids... So smart... And all that wasted because of... whatever happened. Some, like Alister, simply lived on the streets. Sane enough to avoid asylums, not sane enough to hold a job." Julia takes a sip from her tea. "The last one, Tyler - was the only one of the 12 to ever have a job. He worked at a bank, I think.
"And even though Alan was there... and in some way might be responsible for what happened to them - the kids still loved him. After that December, they saw him as something... great. They called him the Scarlet King, and I was his Queen. They would never harm us. Or... so I thought... Oh, Sam!" Julia begins to cry once more, her sobs coming from deep in her chest.
OOC: Any questions for poor Julia? Or just let her continue? Next post will be Sunday June 2nd 2002 ~10am EST.
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