SWNOVELS Nocticadia: Chapter 4
Professor Wilkins sat across from me, his eyes stern and unreadable, as always. Unlike those of my other professors, his office boasted a rich quality, with burgundy leather chairs, a thick cherry-wood desk with matching credenza, natural light lamps, and bookshelves behind him. The room matched the guy’s personality, as he was probably the only professor I knew at Covington Community College who wore a bowtie every day and talked like something out of an old Cary Grant movie.
After a moment of straightening a few scattered papers on his desk, he entwined his fingers and looked up at me. “Miss Vespertine … about the paper you wrote …”
A sharp sting across my bottom lip reminded me to stop biting it—a bad habit I’d picked up to avoid biting my nails. “Sir, may I … am I in trouble for something? I just want to get that out of the way first. Rip the Band-aid off, so to speak.”
He leaned back in his chair, eyeing me for a moment. “No. You are most certainly not in trouble.”
Exhaling an easier breath, I unclutched the chair handles I’d been clawing at. “That’s a relief.”
“The paper you wrote, Miss Vespertine, it was quite engaging. Fascinating, with all the detail. You seem to have exceptional insight into the fictional organism you wrote about. These worms that you described sound terrifying.”
I closed my eyes to a flashback of those worms slipping out of my mother’s mouth in the vision I’d had the night before. All night long, I’d suffered horrible nightmares of seeing them crawling over the floors and out of mouths. “I suppose I have quite an imagination.”
“I’m curious as to what happened to the individual that you cared for in the paper.”
“What do you mean, Sir?”
“You never included their fate in the summary at the end. Only the course of the disease, the progression of it, and your observations.” Fingers steepled together, he eased back in his chair, his eyes brimming with concern.
“Well, I … I suppose, given the fact that I hadn’t offered a cure for it, I didn’t care to mention her fate.”
“And why didn’t you craft a cure?”
I shrugged, clearing my throat. “The assignment was simply to write a fictional disease and its impact on human physiology.”
“Which you did brilliantly. So brilliantly that I feel compelled to ask how you came about this particular disease?”
Had someone else written the same thing? I didn’t understand why he would’ve called a meeting to ask me these questions. “I beg your pardon, Sir. I made it up. You said that I wasn’t in trouble, yet I feel like you’re accusing me of something.”
The tension in his face softened to a slight chuckle, and he shook his head. “Forgive me, I am not accusing you, Miss Vespertine.” With a sigh, he stared back at me again. “The organism that you wrote about isn’t fictional. While I understand there are thousands of parasites, the symptoms you described are quite telling of this particular species.”
A beat of shock pulsed inside my chest, and my mind spun backward, replaying his words. “Wh-what did you just say?” I asked with a weak voice.
“I said, the organism described in your paper is not fictional. It exists.”
It exists. Real.
Not made up in my head. No. That couldn’t be right.
“Are you joking?”
Lips flat, he shook his head. “I would not have called a meeting based on a joke.”
Except that it had to be. For years, I’d been told that it was a figment of my imagination. Was led to believe that what I’d seen had been skewed by the trauma of my mother’s suicide. It’d taken time, but I came to accept the explanation. The lie my head had told to protect my heart because my mother’s suicide made little sense otherwise. She’d loved Bee and me too much to let herself decline that way, to end her life so gruesomely.
Everything unraveled inside of me. Snapping away like fragile branches that’d grounded me to some truth.
The news was somehow both validating and terrifying at the same time.
“You won’t find it in any textbooks or online searches.” Professor Wilkins interrupted the maelstrom of thoughts in my head. “That’s because the research is ongoing and happens to be privately owned.”
“Privately owned? It seems to me that something capable of infecting another human being should be made public.”
“I’ll come back to that in a moment.” He lifted a stack of papers from beside him, and I just caught the title of my case study that he’d printed off. “After reading your paper, I submitted it to a colleague of mine for review. Her name is Loretta Gilchrist. She’s the entomology professor and Department Chair for the College of Natural Science at Dracadia University. You’re familiar with the school?”
The overpriced yuppy university that I’d half-heartedly applied to the summer before my senior year, when I’d hoped to one day become a lawyer, even though I knew damned well I wouldn’t be accepted. Yeah, I knew of it. And of course, I’d been rejected. Good thing, too, because it was later that I’d made the decision to switch majors and find the cure for the perplexing disease that’d ravaged my mother. “Yes, I’ve heard of it. Law school, right?”
“They do have a law school, yes. But they’re far more renowned for medical research.”
“Well, I mean, they’re a little out of my league, so I suppose it makes sense that I didn’t know that.”
“They’re very selective about their applicants. The school, as you know, is quite prestigious. A number of prominent individuals have walked the halls of Dracadia.” He rolled his shoulders back, a look of pride coloring his expression. “It happens to be my alma mater.”
As much as I wanted to ask why, if that was the case, he was teaching a general microbiology class at community college, I kept my lips zipped.
“As I suspected, Dr. Gilchrist was also quite impressed.” He reached into his desk and withdrew a black envelope, which he handed to me. “She apparently shared your paper with the Dean of Admissions, Dr. Langmore, who asked me to pass this along to you.”
Frowning, I accepted the unaddressed envelope and turned it over to see it’d been sealed with gold wax, stamped with an Old English ‘D’. “What is this?”
“It’s for you. Open it.” The usual austerity that had given him the reputation of being a jerk twisted into something completely out of character for him. The man wore a giddy smile, and the sparkle of excitement in his eyes had me both curious and concerned.
I broke the wax seal to find another black envelope inside, that one addressed to me in beautiful gold calligraphy. Opening that envelope revealed thick parchment, folded at perfect thirds. A stamped seal marked the top of the page with the same English D as on the wax.
Dear Miss Vespertine,
On behalf of Dracadia University, I am pleased to offer you admission into the College of Natural Science. Our university prides itself on academic excellence and groundbreaking medical research. We believe your credentials, along with Dr. Wilkins’ personal endorsement, makes you a perfect fit for our undergraduate program.
In accordance with the academic scholarship we’ve awarded for fall semester, all expenses will be covered for travel, textbooks, and housing.
Should you choose to accept this invitation, the midnight train at Covington Park will provide transportation to the port city of Thresher Bay, Maine. You will then take the ferry to Dracadia Island.
Matriculation is contingent on successful completion of your registration. I encourage you to sign in to your student account, which I’ve taken the liberty of setting up for you, to begin registering for fall classes. As a reminder, classes will begin on the first of September.
Due to the competitive nature of our admissions, we ask that you contact us at your earliest convenience with your decision. I am available at the email address and/or telephone number listed below with any questions or concerns you might have.
I am very much looking forward to hearing from you.
Warm regards,
Gilbert Langmore
Dean of Admissions
Office: 555-721-3699
I stared down at the letter, the confusion probably scribbled across my face as I read bits of it a second time. “I don’t …. I don’t understand. I was denied admission. And I mean, rightly so, it’s way out of my league. This doesn’t make any sense.”
“You applied for their medical science program before?”
“No. I originally planned to go into law back then. Changed my mind.”
“Well, it seems they’ve reconsidered, also. While I certainly didn’t expect my discussion with Dr. Gilchrist to result in admission, I will say, academically, you do possess the aptitude, Miss Vespertine. Make no mistake about your qualifications.” A strange enthusiasm carried on his words, which somehow failed to stir me.
“I appreciate that, but … this letter is offering one semester. There’s no way I can afford a school like this. I can barely afford Covington’s tuition.”
“One semester with the opportunity to continue. The school prides itself on retention and academic success. I suspect they’ll evaluate at the end of the semester and make a new offer.”
Still holding the letter in one hand, I rubbed the tension pulling at the back of my neck. “Forgive me, I don’t mean to sound ungrateful, but receiving an acceptance letter this way just feels … unofficial?”
The excitement in his expression dulled to earnestness. “Given the fact that you, yourself, did not apply, perhaps Dr. Langmore felt that, had he sent it to your home, it may not have been taken seriously.”
It was true. Had I received some fancy invitation like that at home, to a school that’d previously rejected my admission, I’d have probably thought it was a scam and tossed it.
“Understand, Miss Vespertine, that between researchers and those wishing to pursue medical careers, in particular, Dracadia receives upward of thirty thousand applications every year. Their acceptance rate is two and a half percent. Well below Yale, Harvard, Stanford, Princeton. That’s less than one thousand students.”
I understood the math. If I had applied to the school myself for medical science, my chances of getting in without Wilkins’ referral were exceptionally slim. Probably impossible. “This university … it’s actually located on Dracadia?” A small island off the coast of Maine, if my geography was right.
“It is, yes.”
I rubbed harder at my neck. “That’s over three hours away.”
“I believe your scholarship includes dormitory expenses and travel.”
Another scan of the letter confirmed the inclusion of housing and travel. Dracadia was one of those locations that, like Martha’s Vineyard, I’d always assumed to be a summer vacation spot for the wealthy. The cost for even one semester at the university must’ve been ridiculous–a thought that continued to make the invite a little hard to swallow. “How did they acquire my recent transcripts, my test scores?”
“As a private entity, they are under no obligation to review each candidate by the usual standards. They could offer you a scholarship merely because they like your name. And believe me, that happens.”
“For a school that prides itself on retention and academic success, that doesn’t seem wise.”
Giving a slight huff, he nodded. “I understand your apprehension. And perhaps disbelief. Allow me to circle back to your question regarding the organism and research. It’s Dracadia that owns the research, Miss Vespertine. The organism in question is called Noctisoma. It’s a parasite that exists predominantly on the island and rarely infects humans. We’re just not a very reliable host, and not all physicians are aware of the organism as a human pathogen. Which is why it’s interesting to me that you know so much about this, considering that it’s almost never diagnosed outside of Dracadia.”
Not a typical human pathogen. “Perhaps it’s just coincidence.”
“I don’t think so. The way you described them expelling from the subject’s mouth is fairly indicative, as I understand from Dr. Gilchrist. At the beginning of the year, you told me that you were interested in finding the cure for what took your mother’s life. Were those not your exact words during introduction?”
They were. I guessed I hadn’t realized he’d made a mental note of them.
“I didn’t want to pry into what had ailed her. However, if the patient in your case study is truly your mother, surely you wouldn’t pass up the opportunity to attend the only university authorized to study this particular parasite? Even if only for a semester. Aren’t the answers to your questions worth it?”
Yes. They were. My whole life, I’d wanted answers. Answers that doctors and specialists I’d made a point to contact on my own hadn’t provided. “What makes this organism capable of infecting humans?”
“Evolution, of course. But it requires a vehicle of transmission. Admittedly, I am not well-versed enough on this parasite to know the how of it, but there is a Noctisoma expert at Dracadia. Professor Bramwell. He teaches Neuroparasitology and gross anatomy, and is board certified in anatomical and forensic pathology. He’s also the one who performs autopsies for those suspected of Noctisoma.”
Bramwell. I made a mental note of that. “It was my paper that decided admission?”
“I’d be willing to bet on it. As I said, it was quite impressive and demonstrates the breadth of your understanding. Of a number of topics, really–parasitology, as well as physiology and research.” He pushed up from his chair and grabbed a photo from the bookshelf behind him. He stared at it a moment before placing it on the desk. On it, a much younger version of him stood before an aging stone building, with pointed spires that reminded me of Notre Dame Cathedral. “I can tell you from personal experience, once you attend Dracadia, you will not want to leave.”
The worms existed. Not in my head. Real.
And there was a university that specialized in studying them.
The possibility just seemed impossible. A dream that had tapped into the most unsettling memories and thoughts, and conjured something completely outrageous, like an ivy league school extending an invitation to a girl who could barely afford the bus fare to get there. “Can I think about it?”
“Of course. But first semester starts after Labor Day. I wouldn’t take too much time. As I said, these positions are few and rare.”
A peculiar, inexplicably nostalgic warmth settled over me, as I stared at the picture again. “I understand. And thank you, Professor. I appreciate your confidence.”