The Forgotten Land of Myria

Angus

Calculus, mechanics, waves, thermal physics, general chemistry, modeling and computation....

I strained my eyes pressing my fist against my head, as my brain went on reciting integral tables, derivatives, product rules, etc. Sometimes I wished I had a mute button for my logical reasoning. I blinked a few times to recover my eyesight and glanced at my 1893 model antique grandfather clock. It had just struck 6:45 a.m.

Too early, I thought. Great. Just perfect. Of all the possibilities on a Saturday morning, waking up to your brain conducting a tropical storm of thoughts was not the best one.

Since I had the terrible habit of hardly ever falling asleep, I was forced to get up. I sat up on my bed, which was built suspended seven feet from the floor, gripped the rope that hung to its left and swung my way down, proceeding to the sink. One could say it was the coolest way to get down from a seven-foot-tall bed ever developed. By me, of course. My body obviously felt tired from having to, on your day off, get up at the same time as your weekly routine. After rinsing my face, I found myself pacing across my room. I still had three hours to worry about getting dressed for the awards ceremony.

What to do until then? my brain questioned me. I scratched my chin as I peered around and my fingers recoiled slightly.

Well, I could start by shaving.

For the second time that morning, a splash of cold water smacked my face. I shuddered. I couldn’t help but notice how strangely my mind and body were acting. It was almost as if they were out of sync. Was it possible that I was feeling nervous about the awards ceremony? I had been participating in academic conventions in all kinds of fields since I was fourteen-years- old.

Of course, this time I had reason for my apprehension. Two years prior, I had drawn the attention of the most prestigious health and medical departments in the world after winning first place at the International Science Convention with my studies on stem cell regeneration. My experiment was a worldwide success and the curious detail--that seemed to appeal to everyone--was that it had been done by a fifteen-year-old. In the following weeks, I received overseas offers from dozens of research labs, including ones in Canada, Japan, and Australia. Universities were all over me as well, which was one of the reasons that I skipped the last year of high school for an early enrollment at Imperial College London.

However, upon learning that I’d decided to apply for civil engineering, all the prestigious labs and institutes suddenly lost interest in me. Now, two years later, as I had yet to make a contribution of the same proportion in the field of engineering, I felt that my image has been in a sort of downfall. Everyone else seemed to disagree, but I had always set high standards for myself. That’s why, in a few hours, I would be sitting at the Cambridge Academic Awards Ceremony with every intention of winning the Academic Merit Award. Although this year--because of a certain biomedical engineering student--I would be in attendance with the same prestigious labs that wanted me two years ago. Deep down, I was experiencing the fear of losing my well established image to that particular student.

I quickly shook the thought away and focused on doing things that would get my mind off the ceremony. By the time my three spare hours were through, I had gotten ahead on a physics paper, dusted all thirty-two antique clocks hanging around my room, and finished my wooden model of the Hagia Sophia before I decided to venture to the kitchen for some breakfast. As always, Harold was perched on his cushion with a cup of tea, reading the morning newspaper, while the TV replayed last night’s horse race. That was his regular Saturday morning routine.

His florid, round face peered over the newspaper upon hearing me enter the living room. He eyeballed me through his round spectacles, grunted, then dug his face right back into the newspaper. That was his way of saying “good morning.” Harold was a very quiet man. He hardly ever addressed people, and made no effort to keep a conversation flowing--and that was why we got along so well.

“Where’s Margaret?” I asked, noticing that the breakfast table hadn’t been set.

“Groceries,” Harold mumbled. Indeed, Saturday was usually the day that Margaret would go to the farmer’s market in the outskirts of town, to buy fresh fruit. It would be foolish to wait for her. As I helped myself to butter and jam on an old piece of bread, I heard Harold clear his throat. I quickly looked at him and noticed him squinting back.

“Why’ya nervous?” he said, folding his newspaper and scooping up his teacup.

“N--nervous?” I said, trying to look surprised at his remark.

He pointed at my right hand that was covered in bread crumbs and nodded. Having raised me for twelve years, Harold had already learnt that whenever I was nervous I crunched things between my fingers.

“Is this about the award?”

I nodded grimly. Harold sighed and sipped his tea through pursed lips. He leaned back on the chair, drumming his fingers on his chest, with his thumbs tucked behind the suspenders over his shirt.

“Certainly, there’s something else at stake than just losing an award,” Harold continued, raising an eyebrow in suspicion. “However, if it’s just the jitters, then you have nothing to worry about. You’ll do fine.”

His head cocked back to the TV, ending the conversation. I wasn’t sure what he meant by “something else at stake,” but I did feel more relieved. Harold always believed in me and found ways to reassure me of it in his brief words. Feeling a tad more confident, I gulped down the last of my coffee, tucked my button-down shirt into my khaki pants and threw on the vest from the three-piece suit I had worn to last year’s ceremony.

I grabbed my umbrella, waved goodbye to Harold and headed out with my presentation folder gently tucked under my winter coat. As I hobbled down the puddled porch steps, I felt a slight jolt in my stomach. Although everything was pretty usual, I felt a damp, icy feeling run through me. And it didn’t have anything to do with the fact that it was pouring rain outside. Something just wasn’t right--but I didn’t have the time to ponder.

“Watch it, Smar’y!” a husky voice blurted out. I had almost tripped over Loose-Tooth Joe while rounding the block.

“Sorry,” I replied.

“Nah. No’sorray. You watch it, Smar’y!”

Obviously, what he said made no sense--typical of a drunk--and his look wasn’t at all inviting--typical of a beggar--so I simply ignored it and ran to catch the bus just as it pulled away from the stop. He went back to his regular routine of “talking” to street pigeons nearby. I had to go through the same procedure as last semester’s ceremony. Once I handed in my presentation folder, I was given a badge for the engineering department. To my surprise, the auditorium was swarming with students, a ton more than last semester’s ceremony.

As I peered around, I found a desperate hand waving in the air.

“Angus! Over here!” Sebastian called. I sighed and trudged to the seat next to him. Sebastian was the closest thing I had to a best friend, though sometimes his enthusiasm and overexcitement gave me headaches. Like everyone else in the 2nd year, he was two years older than me, but--having the unworldliness of a seven-year-old--he managed to see me as some sort of role model.

While he blabbered on about Oceanography I felt another tug in my stomach as my eyes caught a blonde ponytail wagging through the crowd. I followed it across the stage and up the aisle, knowing full well who it was.

“Hey, genie,” said Natasha Podenfield, as the malicious face that the ponytail belonged to popped up in front of me. Sebastian quit his ranting at once. Natasha was the reason for my restlessness--the biomedical nightmare responsible for the presence of the scientists and research labs that once believed in me. The Academic Merit Award stood between Arish Nirajit, an Indian transfer student from the Astrophysics department, Natasha Podenfield, and me. Since we all knew Arish didn’t stand a chance, Natasha and I were going head-to-head. She was the candidate that could ruin my chances of regaining my reputation. And, worst of all, she was annoyingly nice.

“So,” she huffed, “quite the competition, huh? I mean, how do you feel that you might actually lose this time?”

Her ponytail flicked around behind her thin neck, as she smiled angelically at me.

“How do you feel knowing that I made one of the biggest contributions to your field of studies when I was fifteen?” I snapped back. She was obviously offended by the comment, but I couldn’t let her feel comfortable around me.

“It was just a joke,” she said matter-of-factly.

“Still makes me better than you,” I responded in the same tone of voice, forcing Sebastian to clench his sides, holding back laughter.

“Well,” she said, clearly disturbed, “may the best student win!”

“Aye,” I responded, and she wheeled around, her ponytail nearly missing my face, and stormed away clutching her presentation folder between her arms. Nailed it, I thought.

“Uhh, she seems nice,” Sebastian said slowly, as if trying to convince me that I’d gone too far.

“Nice? She’s a witch.”

A few minutes passed and the ceremony was just about to start when another person emerged next to me.

“Angus, Angus,” Sebastian nudged me from his seat. “This is one of my professors, Dr. Schejner!”

The man was short, limp, and looked like his face had been squeezed together. His eyes almost shut when he smiled and held out his hand.

“Delighted to meet you, Harper,” he said. “I’ve heard loads about you.”

I wished I could have said the same about him, but instead I nodded, since I didn’t even know what he taught. There was a bit of an awkward pause but I was saved by the warning bell.

“Mind if I sit here for the ceremony?” he asked, and I shrugged in response.

The first half of the ceremony was mainly composed of speeches, cheap videos and talentless musical performances. Only two awards were handed out before intermission, but since the Academic Merit had always been last I was used to the wait.

The instant the lights switched on, both Sebastian and Dr. Schejner turned on either side of me and began talking simultaneously. From their apprehensive expressions, I had a feeling they had been plotting to tell me something.

“Angus, I have been monitoring you quite closely of late, through some of my pupils,” Dr. Schejner began, and it was quite obvious to whom he was referring. “You have been regarded as a remarkable student, who has blown everyone away, having achieved unimaginable levels of brilliance at such a young age. For that, I would like to make you an offer.”

He and Sebastian exchanged looks for a second, and on cue, Sebastian clumsily shoved an application slip in my face.

“For the next few weeks,” Dr. Schejner went on, “I will be organizing a research team on an expedition to study the geophysical fluid dynamics in Brisbane. We have spotted some unusual activity regarding the currents and tide movements on the coast there and we are hoping to gather some interesting information.”

He leaned in and raised his eyebrows, making me unsure of whether he was waiting for the information to sink in or he wanted an immediate answer.

“Dr. Schejner...I’m flattered, really,” I said, after another uncomfortable moment of silence, “but, what exactly would you have me do? I mean, it’s not at all in my field of studies. Wouldn’t you want to look for a more qualified student?”

Dr. Schejner took a deep impatient breath. “Well, for one I wouldn’t even want to look for a student. The occupation that you would fill is that of a physicist which usually requires great knowledge of hydrostatics and fluid dynamics, and ideally, a bit of experience in the field. The fact that I’m coming to you, as a student, to fill that post, would lead me to believe that you would at least consider the offer. Angus,” he said slowly. “Understand that I want you to lead this expedition.”

Before I could respond to his quite obnoxious statement, he got up and gave me a pat on the shoulder.

“Think about it,” he said. “Here’s my card in case you decide to make the smart choice. Once again, it was a pleasure meeting you.”

As he finished saying this, he marched down the aisle and out of the auditorium before I could give my further thoughts on his offer.

“Well?” Sebastian said.

“Well what?”

“Are you going to take it?”

I scoffed. “Did you not just see what I saw? I barely met the guy and all of a sudden he’s pressuring me to command a research trip that I know nothing about, for God knows how long.”

Sebastian stared blankly suggesting that he had payed no attention to what I’d just said. With a deep sigh, I finally said “I’ll think about it,” before the lights dimmed out. I could see him pump the air in celebration, but I shoved the thoughts on this new offer to the back of my mind. The moment had arrived. Natasha, Arish and I were called to the stage. We each had to provide a short presentation on the innovative work we had accomplished that year. My presentation was spot on compared to the other two: Arish’s file wouldn’t open so he had to pull off the entire presentation on speech, with his very strong accent, and Natasha succumbed to a serious case of stage fright. Feeling now more confident than ever, I made my way back to my seat.

After another thirty minutes of useless information, Professor Jackerty swaggered up to the stage, holding the large golden trophy.

“Greetings, everyone,” Jackerty bellowed into the mic. “As the ceremony comes to a close, I will shortly be announcing the winner of this year’s Academic Merit Award. But first a brief summary of what this award means...”

I could hear groans trickle through the audience and I shut my mind off temporarily as Professor Jackerty babbled about the definition of Academic Merit for another five minutes. This was the 21st century, the era of information, yet people were still giving out brief summaries of things. As he spoke, my eyes skimmed through the many men and women standing behind him, representing labs all over the world, whose eyes would soon be on either me or Natasha. Some were familiar faces, some weren’t.

“...And now,” Jackerty finally said, “the three candidates for this year’s Academic Merit Award. Please stand as I call your names. Natasha Podenfield, from the Biomedical Engineering Department!”

The audience clapped loudly as Natasha sprung up and waved around in that devilish, overly enthusiastic way. I could tell that, though she made an effort to look confident, she was anxious knowing that she had possibly blown her chances.

“Arish Nirajit, from the Astrophysics Department!”

Shy applause sprouted here and there, as Arish stood up quite awkwardly and raised a shaky hand.

“And, last but not least, Angus Harper, from the Civil Engineering Department!”

As I stood, I was greeted with hundreds of proud faces, followed by a roar of applause.

“And this year’s Merit of Excellence in the Academic Field goes to...”

During those few seconds of suspenseful silence, many things went through my mind. But for some reason I was absolutely sure I would win that award. I caught a glimpse of Natasha fanning herself in desperation, Arish biting his nails anxiously, and lastly, the scientists standing at the podium. It was time to amaze them once again. Time to regain my reputation. The award was mine, no doubt about it.

As Jackerty neared the mic, I felt myself begin to leave the chair, ready to receive the trophy. Ready to claim that title...

And I suddenly felt the third slap of cold water hit my face that morning.

“Arish Nirajit!”