aWe have it,a said Mircha; ait is vinegar.a aGive him the best we have,a said I.
An odd request, I thought. Vinegar is, of course, a solution of acetic acid made, as the dictionary explains, from inferior wines; Canada, which yields place to no country in the world in the production of inferior wines, has first-rate vinegar. Mircha returned, bearing a demijohn which he showed me in the distinguished manner that adds so much to College functions. I took a little in a gla.s.s, and rolled it thoughtfully over my palate; it was a rich, full Loblaw 1980. I nodded approvingly, our guest was served, and I was interested to observe that he smacked his lips and, after two quick gla.s.ses, showed an increase of his former lively spirits.
Nor was that the end of it. When we went downstairs for more conversation and wine, Professor Murphy insisted that the vinegar jug go with him, and he nipped away all evening, consuming more in liquid volume than any four of the rest of us.
This was eccentric, certainly, but nothing more. However, when we were parting for the night, the strange guest seized me by the hand, and hissed: aI must talk to you.a aIf you wish,a I said; aIall ask Professor Zingg to bring you into my Lodgings.a aNo, no,a said little Murphy; aget rid of Zingg. Tell Zingg to go hang.a As Professor Zingg was standing right beside him, this was rude. But Professor Zingg is not a man to lose his dignity; he smiled courteously at Jesus Maria Murphy, bowed very slightly, and left the room. But I thought there was an air of relief in his manner.
In no time at all I found myself sitting in my study, facing Professor Murphy, who was curled up in my big chair, with his third demijohn of vinegar, freshly opened, sitting on the floor beside him.
A hospitable thought struck me. aWould you like to use the plumbing?a I asked. After all, the law of gravity dictates that so much liquid intake must, at some point, impose this necessity.
aUse what?a he hissed. aOh, the excusado. No, no; never go. Foolish, foolish. You shall find out why.a I canat say I liked the sound of that. But the Professor was hurrying on.
aYou, Davies, you old man now, eh? You getting out of here? Dey kick you out, no?a aDecidedly no,a I said, with some austerity, for I did not like his tone; aI am retiring, and the College has shown me every courtesy, as is its custom.a aYah, yah, but you sorry to go. You want to know whatas going to happen, eh?a aNaturally I do. I am the first Master of this College; I hope the first of a long and splendid line. Not to be curious about the future would be impossible, though I know how ridiculous any such desire must be.a aWhy ridiculous?a aWella"because of the brevity of human life.a aNot brief at all. You not a scientist, eh?a aNo,a said I; ainsofar as it is possible to sum up what I am, I am a student of literature with a psychological bias.a aOh, Holy Mother of G.o.d!a said Professor Murphy. aHow you people spend your time! Still, I was just such an idiot when I was your age, a few hundred years ago. I was even a priest. Our university was started by priests, way back in the days of the Spanish Conquest; I was one of the founders and Sub-Rector for many years. But it is not easy to be a Spanish priest in the South American mountains, not if you have any real intelligence, not if you see what is right under your nose.a I thought it better to humour this madman. Was he really claiming to be something like four hundred and fifty years old? aSo you became an unbeliever?a I said.
aNever! Unbelievers are fools, worse than unilluminated believers. I became an illuminated believer. I expanded my realm of belief. I became an alchemist.a aAn alchemist?a said I. aMaking gold, and that sort of thing?a aPah!a he said, and a good deal of saliva sprayed across the room at me. aI spit on gold! In South America is gold everywhere, kicking along the ground. No, no, I studied life, and as time went on, and science began to lift its head above the rubbish of faith, the Illumination came, and by the middle of the nineteenth century I was one of the earliest biologists.a aIs it widely known that you have had such a long and interesting life?a I said.
aNo; better not,a said he. aI change my name from time to time. Give up being priest, though I am still a good Catholic. But that is why I am now Murphy; lots of Murphys in Colombia. I can speak Irish. Begorrah, may your shadow never grow less, devil take you, d.a.m.n your eyes, Mother Machree. Yes, now I am Professor Murphy, and head of a very big scientific section in our University.a aAnd what brings you to Canada?a I said.
aI am scouting for candidates,a said he, looking at me with extreme cunning.
aFor your faculty?a said I.
aNo, noa"for my Inst.i.tuto Cryonico da Colombia. But we have strayed. We talked about your curiosity regarding the future of this College. There are lots of ways of finding out, you know.a aSuch asa"?a said I.
aWell, Gematria, for one,a said he.
Gematriaa"the cabbala of numbers! How often had I not heard of it, that elaborate, ancient, but surely mad science of divination practised so long by the Jews, and part of the structure of their medieval scholasticism! I looked at Murphy with new eyes.
aBut surely Gematria is known only among the Jews?a said I.
aIf you live long enough and survive strongly enough the Jews begin to think you must be one of themselves, and they tell you secrets,a said Murphy. aYou want to know how Gematria works?a Of course I did.
aThen you must understand that numbers are the most important things under heaven. All is number, and G.o.d is the G.o.d of Numbers. I suppose you know Hebrew?a aIave allowed it to grow a little rusty,a I said; abut I used to be able to read and write it pretty well.a aAh, then you know that in Hebrew there are no special signs for numbers, but each letter of the alphabet has a numerical equivalent, and that means that every word has a numerical equivalent also.a aYes, yes.a aIn the art of Gematria you divine secret things by reducing the appropriate words to their number equivalents, adding up those, then adding the integers of the sum again and again until you reach a number between one and eleven. That number is the Golden Number, and must be interpreted by knowledge of a very secret doctrine that embodies the rational pattern that lies beneath the seeming disorder of the universe.a aYes,a said I, abut how are you going to make that work with English words? Hebrew suppresses all the vowels but A, and lacks several of our letters.a aThat is part of the tradition. You fill in the gaps with Greek letters that also have numerical equivalents. Greek alchemists, Jewish alchemists, they worked hand in glove. It really does work, you know. Want to try?a aI think you want to demonstrate your skill,a said I. Of course I wanted to try. But obviously I was not deceiving him; he went off into a fit of laughter, almost silent, producing a small noise like someone crushing tissue paper.
aYou do not trust me,a he wheezed. aYou think I am a magician. And so I am. But not a false magician. I am a scientist, which is a modern magician. Long ago, when our University first began, in 1572, they called me a black magician, and there are still some who make the sign against the Evil Eye when I pa.s.s them. But I wish you would trust me and let me be your friend, because I can help you greatly. Let us be friends in your Canadian manner. Call me Jesus.a There is a Puritan buried within me. I secretly determined not to call him Jesus if I could possibly avoid it. I took refuge in cunning.
aIall do better than that,a I said; aIall call you Josh. Jesus is the same as Joshua, and the short name for Joshua is Josh. You see?a aOh yes, I see,a said he, and I knew that he saw right through me and was laughing at my Protestant distaste. aNow, what shall we interpret? This College, donat you think? What is its essence? What is at the root of it that will shape its destiny for centuries to come? Now waita"I must make myself ready.a He sat very upright on my leather chair, his feet tucked under him, his eyes shut, and both his hands raised with the fingers extended. aNow,a he said, atell me the full name of this place, not too fast, so that I can reduce it to numbers.a aMa.s.sey College in the University of Toronto,a said I, and as I spoke his fingers began to flicker rapidly, as if he were tapping the keys of some invisible calculator. And indeed that is just what he was doing. I realized that I was looking at calculation as it had been during the Middle Ages, before the coming of cheap pencils and paper pads, and adding machines, and computers. He had turned his ten fingers into an abacus. Nor did he hesitate for an instant before he spoke.
aSeventeen and twenty-four, and twenty, and thirty-four, and fifty-one comes to one hundred and forty-six,a said he. aAdd up the integers of one, four six and it comes to-eleven! Oh! Oh! Eleven!a aGood, or bad?a said I, far more anxious than I wanted to reveal.
aMagnifico! The number of revelation. The number of great teachers and visionaries in religion, science, politics and the arts. It is the number of those who live by the inner vision. Dangerous, mind you, for sometimes eleven loves ideas better than humanity, so that must be remembered and avoided. But what a Golden Number for a college! Oh, you need have no fears for this place.a aThank you, Josh,a I said. aYou give me great hope. I am only sorry that I shall not be here to see its fulfilment.a aHow long have you been here?a said Professor Murphy.
aIt will be eighteen years next June,a said I, abut I began work on this place twenty years ago, on the first of January, 1960.a aAha, wella"that date and the year and date of your birtha"add the integers and it comes to thirtya"a three. That is very good, because three is your Golden Number alsoa"a aHow do you know?a aBecause I took trouble to find out before I came to-night, and I knew you for a Three the minute I set eyes on you. So that is a happya"a aCoincidence?a said I.
aThere is no such thing as a coincidence,a said Josh; anot in Gematria. It is all part of the numerical pattern that governs the world. Yes, you were a good man to begin this place, but not to continue it.a aWhy?a I dreaded what he might say, but I had to know.
aToo flighty,a said Josh. aLots of imagination, lots of invention, but there is a limit to what those things can do in a place like thisa"a place with the Great Eleven as its Golden Number. You are not always and in all things wholly serious. You have what we biologists call Jokey Genes. High time you went. Who is to come next?a aProfessor Hume,a said I. aYou sat beside him upstairs.a aYes, and I felt very strange things coming from him. That is why I had to have vinegar; he was heating me up, and I needed to reduce my body temperature. Tell me his full name.a And once again Josh took his calculating posture.
aJames Nairn Patterson Hume,a said I.
Josh made his rapid, flickering calculation, then, to my horror, gave a pathetic little squeak and collapsed sideways. Had Pat Hume killed him? But I saw one of the tiny hands gesturing toward the vinegar bottle which sat on the floor at his side, in an instant I put it to his lips and he dranka"dranka"drank until there was not a drop left. His eyes opened slowly, but one was looking aloft while the other looked down, and from his tiny body mounted an overpowering reek of vinegar. If he had been drinking anything else I would have sworn he was drunk, buta"vinegar? I must know.
aJesus,a I whispered, shaking him gently. aJesus, are you pickled?a He did not answer at once, but shook his head again and again, as if in wonderment. At last he spoke.
aThis place must have a very special destiny,a he said. aIts Golden Number is the Great Eleven, and that is splendour sufficient, but this Humea"this James Nairn Patterson Humea"his Golden Number is alsoa"despampanante!a"the Great Eleven. Work it out for yourself: fourteen, plus six, plus forty-one, plus twentya"and what have you?a aHow should I know?a I said; aIam just one of your frivolous Threes; I canat be expected to add in my head. What have you?a aBadulaque! a.n.a.lphabet! You have ninety-two and even you should see that when you add the integers-nine and two, dog of a Threea"you get eleven. So this College, already shaped by Eleven, is now to have a Master who is also an Eleven, and what will happen thena"Oh, rumboso, rumboso!a His eyes seemed fixed upon some rosy vision.
aWhat will happen? Tell me,a I said, shaking him.
aOh, do not ask me to tell,a said Professor Murphy. aInstead, why donat you join me in the Great Silent Chamber of the Immortals in the University at Bogota, and from time to time we shall come back here and behold with our own eyes the wonders that are sure to be brought forth.a I was mystified. aGreat Silent Chamber of Immortals?a I said.
aYou know of my work,a said he. aAm I not the Praefectus of the Inst.i.tute Cryonico of Bogota?a aI suppose so,a said I, not very tactfully; abut whatas Cryonics?a aOh, you Threes, you have the minds of ballet-dancers! Cryonics, numbskull, is the science that will save mankind by preserving indefinitely the lives and abilities of people chosen for that purpose. It is achieved by a carefully calculated arrest of the cellular death which eventually brings ordinary mortals to the point of physical and spiritual death; that arrest is managed by draining the body of most of its blood, and subst.i.tuting a formula for which ordinary vinegar may serve as a temporary subst.i.tute; then the body is placed in a very cold chamber, and all its activities, but not its cellular life are kept on ice, so to speak, until they are needed. Then, a gradual melting-out, and thereas your man, practically as good as new and in my case, more than four hundred years old. Think what an acc.u.mulation of wisdom and experience that means! What we alchemists began so long ago as a search for the Philosopheras Stone was achieved in our Andean heights when we discovereda"Oh, to h.e.l.l with modesty!a"when I discovered, that all that was needed was a sufficiently low temperature and plenty of vinegar. Nowa"here is your chance, and you must be quick, for this evening has been an exhausting one for me. Will you fly back with me to Bogota? I promise you that in a week you will be emptied of your disgusting thick blood, and you will find yourself in a flask, reduced to the temperature of liquid nitrogen. All you have to do is leave a call at the deska"just like a motela"and in a hundred years you will be shipped back here to see what this great College has achieved.a I was tempted. I confess I was tempted. But I thought I should first talk the matter over with my wife. Later, when I had Professor Murphyas calculations checked by a Jewish scholar at one of the synagogues on Bathurst Street, I discovered that my wife is also a Three, just as I am myself, and it is unwise to neglect her opinion.
aMay I have till tomorrow to make up my mind?a said I, and the Professoras nod was so feeble that I became greatly alarmed about him.
But we Threes have substantial powers of improvisation. It was clear that the Professor was so overcome by what he had found out about Ma.s.sey College that he needed first aid, and of a special kind. So I did my unscientific best. Taking him in my arms, I carried him up the back stairs to the College kitchen; it was like carrying a wineskin, for the vinegar within him kept sloshing around most unaccountably. But I got him on one of the kitchen tables without having been seen during our wobbly progress through the College, and I undressed him, right down to his skin. Former priest that he was, I was not surprised to find that he was wearing a tiny hair shirt, which is still in my possession, more or less, for Miss Whalon uses it as a tea-cosy. I managed to rouse him sufficiently to drink a couple of large beakers of vinegar, then I brought jugs of ice-water, doused him thoroughly, and tucked him up for the night on a shelf in our large, walk-in refrigerator. In that embracing chill he fell instantly into a child-like sleep, and so I left him.
I went immediately to my wife, and put the great question up to her: was I to go to Bogota and a chilly life eternal, in order that, from time to time, I might return to Ma.s.sey College and spy on what my successors were doing? She thought for a while, and then said: aI wouldnat, if I were you. Donat be a Ma.s.sey College ghost; it would be most unbecoming. Donat you remember the line from our theatre daysa"aSuperfluous lags the veteran on the stagea? When you have made your exit, take off your costume, clean the a.s.sumed character off your face, and leave the theatre.a These were wise words, as I had expected them to be. So I went to bed; went to sleep; and forgot the whole matter.
I was sharply reminded of it only last week, when we had our annual Christmas Dance. A great feature of that affair is the buffet, which is a splendidly theatrical creation at which all the guests survey, before they eat, the miracles of cuisine that our chefs have prepared. Elegantly displayed turkeys, splendidly ornamented fish, jellies and potted meats pressed into fantastic and festive shapes, cream puffs filled with cream, so that their whiteness takes on the likeness of swans, wonderful little tartlets like jewels of topaz, and ruby and emerald. Cakes decorated in High Baroque styled that are themselves the epitome of Christmas, and happy youth and good cheer. As always, I looked at it with pride; this was just the sort of show to appeal to a man whose Golden Number is Three. And thena"
I donat want to continue. Iad much rather not. But there are imperatives of historical truth which even a Three dare not brush aside. There, at the centre of the main table, wasa"No, no. No, I say!
Well, it was a roast suckling pig. At any rate, that was the way it was garnished. Certainly it had an apple in its mouth, and around the little eyes were outlines of white icing. Tips of pink icing extended its ears, which were not wholly pig-like. I looked hopefully between the markedly un-piglike b.u.t.tocks for a curly tail, but there was none.
Turning to our Bursar, Colin Friesen, I said, controlling my voice as best I could: aThatas unusual, isnat it? Where did you get it?a aIt must have come in a big order,a said he. an.o.body seems to know anything about it. It is a novelty. Delicious! Vinegar-cured, I should say. Try a bit of the crackling.a But I declined. A flighty Three I may perhaps be, but I can boast, as I hope all my successors will be able to boast, that I have never, knowingly, eaten a guest of this College.