Read Online The Far Time Incident by Neve Maslakovic - Free Book Online
Authors: Neve Maslakovic
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movers had only just gotten around to packing some of Dr. Mooney’s books. I took a moment to—to touch some of them—like the Hipparchus trigonometry tables that he brought back last year, you know the ones—” She paused to eat the cookie.
The photographic copies Xavier had made of the ancient Greek astronomer’s work were one of his—and the ancient manuscript depository in the Coffey Library’s—most prized possessions.
Abigail, having wolfed down the walnut cookie, reached for another. I had a sinking feeling that the cookies were destined to be her breakfast for the day. (Like early rising, grad students and nutritious meals were not a compatible combination.) “I rummaged a bit in the basket with all the snapshots he’d taken on STEWie runs… Someone must have plugged an air freshenerinto the room, because everything smelled like Thanksgiving… Then I found myself by the musical instruments shelf—the Music Department students had put everything back in the wrong place, but that wasn’t the problem. The Babylonian rattle, the Portuguese castanets, the Hawaiian nose flute, they were all there, but the didgeridoo from Dr. Mooney’s Australia far-time trip wasn’t. I took a good look around the office but the didgeridoo was definitely not there. It’s not like you can miss it, it’s pretty large, right? The movers said they hadn’t seen it or packed it away.”
“Maybe someone from the Music Department kept it a little longer. I’m sure they’ll return it.”
“I asked. They said they didn’t take it.”
Now that she mentioned it, I didn’t remember the didgeridoo among the instruments showcased at Dr. Mooney’s memorial.
She added, “I was hoping we could keep it as a memento in the grad student office—not to play, of course, just to have—though I don’t know who I should ask about that.”
“Dr. Mooney left everything to the school in his will,” I said. “I’m sure something can be arranged.”
Abigail grinned at me and got to her feet. “Thanks, Julia. Can I have one more of these?” she asked, hand hovering above the open cookie jar.
“Have several.”
From the doorway, she added, “And you’ll find out who might have the didgeridoo, right?”
“I’m taking the budgetary forms around the buildings today. I’ll ask around.”
After resolving a travel visa issue for an exchange student who was arriving from China for the optimistically named springsemester (which started mid-January) and rearranging a pair of tenure review meetings that had come into conflict scheduling-wise, I was ready to tackle the next big item on my to-do list, the budget for the next school year, due the first day of the new year. While the details had mostly been hammered out in meetings, I had yet to receive the necessary paperwork from a handful of professors and research staff. This state of affairs wasn’t unusual in the least, and would easily be resolved. Winter break meant that everyone would be holed up in their labs or offices. I donned my goose-down jacket, picked up a stack of blank Supply, Laboratory Space, and Office Space Request forms, and slid them into my bag along with several black-ink ballpoint pens, which were the best for filling out forms in triplicate. Prepared for my mission, I headed out.
The building doors closed behind me as I paused to slide on my gloves and let my eyes adjust to the sunlight. Winter was the brightest of the four St. Sunniva seasons—the sun’s rays were reflected to summer strength by the freshly fallen snow, and the lake was like a large, round mirror, its surface a solid block of ice. (The 270-acre lake sat firmly on the official list of Minnesota’s ten thousand, though Dr. Braga of the Department of Earth Sciences had recently informed me that there were actually 11,842 lakes in the state.) On its shores, the stately birch and oak trees that shaded the brick Hypatia of Alexandria House in the summer held a reminder that spring was
The photographic copies Xavier had made of the ancient Greek astronomer’s work were one of his—and the ancient manuscript depository in the Coffey Library’s—most prized possessions.
Abigail, having wolfed down the walnut cookie, reached for another. I had a sinking feeling that the cookies were destined to be her breakfast for the day. (Like early rising, grad students and nutritious meals were not a compatible combination.) “I rummaged a bit in the basket with all the snapshots he’d taken on STEWie runs… Someone must have plugged an air freshenerinto the room, because everything smelled like Thanksgiving… Then I found myself by the musical instruments shelf—the Music Department students had put everything back in the wrong place, but that wasn’t the problem. The Babylonian rattle, the Portuguese castanets, the Hawaiian nose flute, they were all there, but the didgeridoo from Dr. Mooney’s Australia far-time trip wasn’t. I took a good look around the office but the didgeridoo was definitely not there. It’s not like you can miss it, it’s pretty large, right? The movers said they hadn’t seen it or packed it away.”
“Maybe someone from the Music Department kept it a little longer. I’m sure they’ll return it.”
“I asked. They said they didn’t take it.”
Now that she mentioned it, I didn’t remember the didgeridoo among the instruments showcased at Dr. Mooney’s memorial.
She added, “I was hoping we could keep it as a memento in the grad student office—not to play, of course, just to have—though I don’t know who I should ask about that.”
“Dr. Mooney left everything to the school in his will,” I said. “I’m sure something can be arranged.”
Abigail grinned at me and got to her feet. “Thanks, Julia. Can I have one more of these?” she asked, hand hovering above the open cookie jar.
“Have several.”
From the doorway, she added, “And you’ll find out who might have the didgeridoo, right?”
“I’m taking the budgetary forms around the buildings today. I’ll ask around.”
After resolving a travel visa issue for an exchange student who was arriving from China for the optimistically named springsemester (which started mid-January) and rearranging a pair of tenure review meetings that had come into conflict scheduling-wise, I was ready to tackle the next big item on my to-do list, the budget for the next school year, due the first day of the new year. While the details had mostly been hammered out in meetings, I had yet to receive the necessary paperwork from a handful of professors and research staff. This state of affairs wasn’t unusual in the least, and would easily be resolved. Winter break meant that everyone would be holed up in their labs or offices. I donned my goose-down jacket, picked up a stack of blank Supply, Laboratory Space, and Office Space Request forms, and slid them into my bag along with several black-ink ballpoint pens, which were the best for filling out forms in triplicate. Prepared for my mission, I headed out.
The building doors closed behind me as I paused to slide on my gloves and let my eyes adjust to the sunlight. Winter was the brightest of the four St. Sunniva seasons—the sun’s rays were reflected to summer strength by the freshly fallen snow, and the lake was like a large, round mirror, its surface a solid block of ice. (The 270-acre lake sat firmly on the official list of Minnesota’s ten thousand, though Dr. Braga of the Department of Earth Sciences had recently informed me that there were actually 11,842 lakes in the state.) On its shores, the stately birch and oak trees that shaded the brick Hypatia of Alexandria House in the summer held a reminder that spring was
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