I never thought I’d meet someone as fundamentally backwards as Zach. This fellow was the arch-Zach. Zachary Prime. I leveraged my knowledge of how futile it was to argue with Zach and declined to go down that rabbit hole with this new fellow. If they were as similar as I thought, to do so would be to embark down a fractally infinite set of blind alleys from which there is no exit.
“I never got your name.” He handed me a small gilded card with swirling designs embellishing the corners. Fitting, from what I’d seen. It read “Heironimus Travigan”. Of course. I did not for a moment believe it was his birth name, but someone willing to devote their life to smoke and mirrors must be a performance artist at heart. That necessitated a stage name.
I never noticed Zach leave us, but suddenly he offered us each a beer. I turned him down as it was yet another possible vector for drugs. “Not this time you sneaky motherfucker” I thought. On our way down the hall I peered into an open door and saw a metal chair welded to a round platform fashioned from the same alloy. Stacked up against the wall lay two clunky obsolete robot arms of some kind, and next to them, a pair of hollow glass hoops with some unfamiliar metallic liquid inside.
“Oh, best not get into that. Don’t yet have the funds to assemble it, and the fellow who claims to have the wrist mounted accoutrement it requires still hasn’t responded to my offer. If he imagines I can afford much more than that, he doesn’t understand my position at this university.” That begged the question.
“Just what is your position, Mr. Travigan?” He looked wounded. “I am a professor, you know. Officially, of the history of natural science. Unofficially I study the various aborted alternatives. My lifelong search has been for the diamond in the dungheap. It seemed impossible to me as a young man that there should be so many attempts to discover hidden truths without any of them resulting in success.”
He opened the heavy oak door at the end of the hallway. Dust billowed out and I covered my mouth and nose. I neglected my eyes and spent the next minute or so tearing up as I tried to wipe it out. “Finally, the curiosities. Little trinkets from all over the globe. Some sent in by genuine crackpots asking that I independently verify their purported magical properties. Others incomplete pieces of something larger, a puzzle waiting to be solved by young Zachary here when he takes my place.”
Zachary flashed his signature maniacal grin. Everybody has their niche I suppose. Professor Travigan stared wistfully at the shelves upon shelves of mystery objects. “I’m here because this is where they stash the black sheep. My connections prevent me from being institutionalized, my tenure ensures that I continue to draw a salary. But I cannot lecture, nor publish, nor use university funds in any way to promote my findings. They worry I could embarrass the university’s good name.”
Despite my impression of him as so far over the cuckoo’s nest as to have achieved orbit around it, I found it difficult not to empathize. However meaningless, all of this was nonetheless interesting and much could be gleaned from it about our past mistaken notions of how the universe operates.
“Meeting young Zachary was a shot in the arm, let me tell you” he waxed on. “I have long said that if I could get just one other person to see as I see, my life’s pursuit will not have been pointless.” I studied the successive rows of artifacts, some under glass covers, some in display cases, others sealed in plastic bags with adhesive labels describing the contents. “I’d be happy to. See what you see, I mean. If you could actually show it to me. The problem people in my line of work have with all of this is that it’s so much talk with nothing to show for it.”
He again looked offended, but his expression then slowly changed to one of intrigue. “What journal is it that you edit for?” he plied. I saw no reason to conceal it. “Rejuvenation Research. Perhaps you’ve heard it mentioned in the news? We’re on the forefront of senescence studies. That is to say human aging and how to slow, halt or reverse it.”
The last part registered, at least. He stood there lost in thought until I motioned as if to leave. “Not so fast, young man. They won’t listen to me. My name is mud, they’ve made sure of that. But they might listen to you. You have a history of conventional scientific contribution. Even if you’re not equipped to understand any of this you might put it into the hands of someone who is. And if my name is not connected to it, there’s a chance they’ll take it seriously.”
I meant to object when he said I wasn’t equipped to understand these devices. I felt sure I understood them, the problem was they were all products of catastrophically mistaken beliefs concerning cosmology, biology, just about every scientific discipline. But when he pulled a small, worn leather case from one of the shelves and handed it to me, I elected to let it slide. I’m a sucker for souvenirs.
On the way home I tried and failed to open the case. Turning it over in my hands, on the underside was some sort of inset metal stencil. On the top, Professor Travigan had fixed a folded note sealed in a ziplock bag, tied to the case with blue thread. When did he have time to write it? I cut the thread with my pocket knife, opened the baggie, and unfolded the note.
It was blank. I don’t know what I expected. When we arrived at my apartment, Zach proposed we throw down in Mario Kart and as the rest of the day was wide open I obliged. For him, Mario Kart also meant vaping. He always picked Wario and drove far better than should be possible in such a condition.
“In every game, always pick the fattest jew” he explained. I soundly scolded him for it. “The shit you say! This is why I can’t have other friends over when you’re around.” It rolled off of his back as my complaints usually did. Best out of three became best out of five, then best out of seven. Certain items in the game routinely allowed him to come from last place and win during the final lap. He was giggling, quietly but continuously with a demented melody to it. I dropped the controller in disgust.
When I came back from the bathroom, he was hunched over the leather case. Somehow he’d removed the metal stencil from the bottom. “There were little turney things at the corners with notches in them. With all four positioned right, I could just pull this out.” I might’ve figured that out if I’d studied it more seriously. He had a knack for games and puzzles of all kinds.
Underneath the stencil was a grid of seemingly random characters in an unfamiliar language, also metal, protruding slightly. The stencil had apertures in a few places so that specific characters could show through. It was unclear why. I gave up on it for the night, drove Zach home, then called it an evening.
The next day on a whim, I picked up some graph paper and copied down all the characters in the order they appeared on the bottom of the case. I then circled in red the characters which showed through. A colleague of mine in the computer science department specialized in cryptography. With only one lead there was no uncertainty about what I was going to do with my day.
“It’s sanskrit.” Emilio didn’t volunteer more than that until badgered. “It was an Indo-European language common to some of the very first agrarian cultures in the fertile crescent. That narrows the search considerably.” It wasn’t obvious which search he meant until he proudly showcased his thesis project, an artificial intelligence specializing in language.
“Google’s already doing cutting edge stuff with translation but this goes way beyond that. I call this Parvu. It exceeds what Google’s doing in that it understands linguistic conventions central to wordplay, flirting, humor and so on. So it can not only identify what a string of text is from but what sort of social interaction is occurring in it, if any. That’s just the tip of the iceberg too.”
Stay Tuned for Part 3
“It’s sanskrit.” Emilio didn’t volunteer more than that until badgered. “It was an Indo-European language common to some of the very first agrarian cultures in the fertile crescent.
Come to me if you need help, hahahha. I am good at this language.
Actually our neighbours were Hindus they knew a lot about it, it made me remind them. They no longer reside there but sometimes I miss them, like I miss them now. Sanskrit is a very historic and typical language.
Google's language translation is really powerful and has been really helpful to lots of people. It helps me read alots of web pages especially in Russian
Once again good part to read and expressions are shown in a very decent way. Liked the way it is written so precisely and worth reading. Good one waiting for next part
Great story again. You have a lot of potential in writing and I suggest you continue your journey of writing. Your are doing to achieve remarkable success through this.
Thanks for the previous episode, it was amazing and this one is a bluckbuster believe me. I got you on amazon and I signed up to follow you but I’m yet to complete the registration as my network is so bad
What you said about the name on his card wouldn’t make me stop laughing. You see like your other write ups, this is equally addictive in seconds and it got my attention as I the articles forms movie scenes in my head, I actually watched this piece not read afterall. You’re talented , this is a rare gift
Oh Alex...That line about the fattest jew....:P
wow. had to write this down somewhere.
Wow, i enjoyed this episode, and anicipating for episode 3.
Regards
Enjoyed reading this piece and speaking about Google translations, I think they are really doing a great job , just that sonetimes they translate shit and u will never know until you are translate it back to the language you understand. ...been a victim a couple of times.
I love this part. How many people do not know how we see the world so that certain skills make us feel alien.
true i must say. but to be honest, they havent perfected it yet.
imagine translating from english to spanish and from spanish back to English, somehow somehow, it looses the real deal. But theyy trying tho
Great story, this part is good.
do you have a published book already?
your stories are really engaging and fun to read.
waiting for the next episode /
Bravo
Yes, I have several published on Amazon.
Great. With the same pen name (authors name)?
I mean "alexbeyman"?
i guess i know how that feels. LOL..
your stories (though deep) are always worth reading and rereading..
[Original Novella] Part 2 It's great to read, thank you,good post!
Whaoh...great!
Whats happening with AI is really just a tip of the iceberg.
There's more come.
More things frightening...
Cryptography....reminds me of Dan Brown's digital fortress.
Wow, really good story i need the part 3 !!
Wow! Am enjoying every bit of the stoery. Pls waiting for episode3
How many parts will it be? I just need to get an idea of how long the novel will be.
I liked this part a lot, keep it up.
lol we all think this way! Some say “nice, beautiful, your writing is amazing, great story, can’t wait for next part” and they actually think instead... Anyway it seems like Professor studies or teaches human aging and how to slow, halt or reverse it. Before he left home, professor gave him some kind of case he picked up from one of the shelves. It was some kind of puzzle or cryptography. He tried to open it and solve what it says, but eventually he gave up at least for the night. The next day he took it to his colleague, who is an expert in this kind of cryptography. It seems like it’s beyond their knollage so far...
up to this point, the depiction of the mystery is well packed, intriguing to the reader and dissolving in every word, sentence and paragraph. Intelligence from professor Travigan is also a unique mystery.
They all have too powerful names... When people hear them they already become intimidated. Damn I should change mine to something like that too!
Finally whales are coming back. I hope you'll return to your regular 30 plus rewards that you deserve brave warrior :d