How many equations can there be? I must, by now, have worked
through two-thirds of all known equations as encountered in my math homework.
Again, here I sit with page after page being put in the “done” pile. Meanwhile, Mr. Holmes, in his armchair with
feet flat on the floor, has in his lap a quantum physics book, slide rule, and
a small notebook in which he puts results of whatever he is working through.
His pipe is in his mouth, no tobacco in the bowl.
Nothing much else is going on. It is a Saturday. I groan
occasionally without disturbing Mr. Holmes. He does make frequent use of the
slide rule. He jots furiously into the notebook. Slide rules, of course, were
abundant in this era. After all, we would put men on the Moon with slide rule
accuracy. I am coveting a break from the equations so that, after a decent
interval, I can retrieve the newspaper from wherever they left it upstairs. It
is closing in on 10 AM and probably the paper got here around 6 or 7. It being
Saturday, I don’t think it could have much staying power. Now Sunday’s edition,
weighing in at about a ton, would be a different matter what with the comics,
too many ads, and a few colorful sections on cooking or home upkeep. The sports
section was purposely yellowed as if any outcome was already to be seen as lore
of yore.
In addition to the paper, I could get something for a snack.
Mom always had such eats in glass humidors. Depletion could be easily seen, and
it must not go down too rapidly or we risked being cut off from that brand for
a time. Some of the concoctions went too fast. So less appealing brands would
fill the containers, and we ate the lesser ones for little reason other than
they were available when the need arose and not for a need to continue to enjoy
the taste. I came back with three pieces of an unknown kind of cookie-cracker
and put the paper on the stand next to Mr. Holmes. He looked up, smiled, and
continued with his study.
I couldn’t go on just then, and I hoped Mr. Holmes would
find something to comment on in the paper. With snack gone, I was seated at the
card table, elbows on the table top and hands like in prayer with my chin
against the thumbs and eyes closed.
Maybe I was asleep when Mr. Holmes said, “How odd.”
“Oh?” I wasn’t really with it.
“See this,” said he and he had folded the paper to “our”
page and held it out in front of him with both hands.
Ok, I am awake. It’s a photo of a Zeegler. So what’s it
doing in the paper?
It is an illustration in a book by a popular author, very
popular, so it says here. To quote – Please join us today at 1 – 2 this
afternoon as we at Dubrovnik’s Bookstore welcome to our city, JAD, the 12 year
old writer of detective fiction. She will be on hand to sign copies of her new
book, “Baker Town Hotel.” This second book will assuredly be a bestseller as was
her first one, a delightful mystery of hanky-panky at a weather radio station
entitled “The Hot and the Cold.” JAD has been writing books since she was two.
What? Must be a misprint.
One assumes so. A photograph depicts two pages of her book.
On the left is text, on the right is a full page photograph of a Zeegler’s
face.
So JAD is in cahoots with Them?
Cahoots?
Ok, in league with Them?
To resolve this matter, I must visit Miss JAD. Are you
coming?
I looked down at an
equation-filled page and sighed deeply.
Well hello, Mr. Holmes. What have you there?
Copies of JAD’s latest, two copies signed. One for each of
your sisters.
Most nice of you. They have read JAD’s first one, so they
will be appreciated, I can tell you. Expect an invite for supper soon.
Ah, I suppose I cannot refuse.
Of course not, though the supper does you little good, Mom
will prepare something especially tasty and I, at least, can benefit. But then
what of the Zeegler photo?
I had a most amiable discourse with JAD. I found her to be
very bright, attractive, very articulate and at a loss to explain the
appearance of a Zeegler in her book. I did a spot check of other copies in the
store before I had approached her. Some have the photograph, some not. Page 39.
What could they be up to?
Excellent question. We cannot discover what it could be just
yet. By itself, a photograph has little significance.
Yeah, it’s life as usual though we have been put on notice
since the photo was on “our” page.
Most assuredly and I do believe I will be out and about
hoping for further developments.
Of course, keep a supper date
open.
Actually Mr. Holmes was gone a few days. Upon his return, he
told me he had not left town and that he had discovered children were being
taken and released after a few hours.
“By whom?” I asked.
Unfortunately, I fear it is Them.
Taken and released? Sounds like the wrong fish got caught.
What for?
Who is to say? The children say they were taken on a school
bus to they know not where. Then questions were asked of them. Two men asked
the questions. According to the children, they looked like teachers. After
questioning, they were taken to near their homes and released.
No ill effects?
None so far. One curious connection. Each child owned a copy
of JAD’s latest book.
Page 39?
A Zeegler.
What could be going on?
Nothing presents itself at the moment. Since They are involved, we must assume the
children could be in jeopardy yet they were not harmed and remain so. They were
asked questions about history – of the state, of the country. No ranking seemed
to be taking place.
Well usually They are more upfront about what they are
doing.
Yes, and more concerned with the manipulation of the
mechanics of objects. They have until now dealt with such. Now the objective
involves temporary abduction. The children were never touched. They were only
questioned. Some of them realized later that they had given a wrong answer but,
wrong or right, the “teachers” gave no sign of approval or disapproval.
To do what they want to do, they commandeer a bus. All of
this sounds school oriented. Learning, testing, and what else? Of course more
goes on at school than classroom activity but They couldn’t know much about
that. So, again, we sit and await developments?
You may sit. I am going back out. If more abductions
continue, I hope to establish that all those taken had a history of possession
of JAD’s book with the added Zeegler photograph.
Ok, as a matter of fact, I am into History myself. World
History and not exactly a preference of mine but vs. other subjects, I’ll
gladly concern myself about the outcome of the Portuguese Empire in Brazil any
day.
Be a good chap. No doubt the
relevance of this study will enlighten you bye and bye. I’m off.
The abductions and releases continued. Mr. Holmes knew all
the children had had a JAD book with the page 39 portrait. I had been reading
quite enough about imperialistic colonization and hoping for a disturbance to
cease the boring repetitions of territory after territory’s inevitable clash of
culture when I heard Mom shouting for my sisters. Mom doesn’t shout. One look
at Mr. Holmes as he was then flipping idly through a mag and then we were sprinting
for the door, up the stairs, and around back and saw my sisters walking at a
measured slow pace to the north on the gravel road that ran by our place on the
west. They were about to veer off the road onto dried and dusty dirt and weeds
and heading for a narrow green field. The field has a low wire fence around it.
A creek, very rarely with water, happened through the middle
of the field. The creek was on a W-E line. Horses supposedly were seen from
time to time in the field. Also supposedly, they must have been tethered since
the fence was too low to be an obstacle. We ran faster than they walked. Beyond the
pasture on the road going east from the intersection of Buffalo Ridge Road and
whatever asphalt road it was, there was a school bus, a very long one. The
motor was in idle. The distance from my sisters to the bus was not great. I
absent-mindedly thought it funny that the “students” were cardboard head and
shoulders placed above each of the seats. Also quickly noted was that a few
seats were empty near the driver. The driver was watching our chase scene. The
driver certainly looked like a Zeegler.
Mr. Holmes caught up with Janet and placed a hand over her
eyes. Then he firmly placed the other hand on her shoulder and both twisted her
around and sat her down. I followed the example of Mr. Holmes with Jane. I
heard the engine of the bus rev. I glanced over my shoulder to see the bus
racing east. Mom was out in the driveway calling to the girls; she was mostly
worried that they had sat down in dirt. I said it had been a game of hide and
seek, but that I’d not made it clear they should stay on the premises. Later, I
asked to see the autographs in their copies of JAD’s book. Sure enough, page
extraction was called for. As I distracted them, I removed the offending
photos.
The very next day Mr. Holmes and I were in the basement when
a loud noise could be heard out in the road in front of our house. Once as
before, as they had said in Victorian times, Mr. Holmes “sprang” to his feet,
went upstairs and banged outside. I saw him shoot by the east basement window
headed for the front road. I got to the front yard to see the long school bus
moving off. We had heard it braking loudly as it had suddenly stopped. A
Zeegler was at the wheel with those cardboard cutouts as stand-ins for kids
except for a boy and a girl seated near the Zeegler. Mr. Holmes looked to be
plastered to the rear door of the bus. He was spread out with arms and legs at
right angles. He was hanging on by this nails and his heels were dug into the
bottom door recesses. The bus took a hard right on down the road and I thought
he would be flung off, but I saw nothing go into the ditch.
It was soon enough apparent that the Stickeley boy and girl
from across the road had gone missing. I was waiting for Mr. Holmes to return
to inform the parents that the kids would be safe. He did return (by cab) but
without the boy and girl. He said the two had been asked questions about
history, and they had a written test. The boy apparently failed the test since
he soon exited. The girl was there answering questions for longer. She seemed
drowsy in pronouncing her answers. The examiners were in black robes and hoods
with only eyes uncovered but with thick glasses being worn. One had gray eyes.
Mr. Holmes heard the two examiners discussing how much ransom to charge. At
this point Mr. Holmes was discovered, and he exited back stage pursued by two
bearish Zeeglers.
But not to worry, the boy and girl came walking home about
fifteen minutes after Mr. Holmes had arrived. Neither of the two could remember
what had happened. They were unharmed. I motioned to Mr. Holmes that we needed
to talk. Once in the basement, I told Mr. Holmes that ransom seemed to me to be
farfetched. The Stickeleys were hardly conspicuous consumers. Mom had the
family over at least once a month and she then prepared way too much food. She insisted
post the meal that she didn’t have enough storage space for the surplus and
gave the Stickeleys enough for a short week. Mr. Stickeley as a “good neighbor”
performed the odd repair jobs round our place or yard work as needed.
I said, “Sounds like a dupe job.”
Please clarify.
They knew you were there. They probably knew of your rear-end-of-the-bus-ride
and put on a show for you – at least the ransom part.
Yes indeed, quite so. They have
been reported to be teachers and do they wear hoods and robes?
Mrs. Stickeley came over to chat with Mom a few days later.
It seems her daughter at school was having trouble with one subject in
particular – history. She had been doing Ok. I asked my sisters to invite the
Stickeley girl over and to be sure she brought her JAD book. Mr. Holmes and
I were sure she had one. Of course she did. While she was with my sisters at
play in the front yard, I removed page 39.
Thus, said Mr. Holmes, the photograph acts on the
understanding of history that the viewer had or was learning about.
They aim to affect children for what?
Mr. Holmes showed almost a shrug and said, “Perhaps this has
been a trial.”
Oh, so it is a test run and then do it to adults?
Precisely.
Are adults going to engage with a photo of a Zeegler?
The photographs could become images of well-known persons
whose photograph would appear repeatedly in newspapers or elsewhere.
Like the President?
Yes, and the photograph would be seen by those placed high
in the government or perhaps by those highly placed in other governments.
Disturbances, disruption, disorder and discord?
Any one of those would do.
And we are to….
The proper authorities have been notified. Should their
behavior alter, then they would be allowed only words and no pictures.
Sounds good.
A week went by. Mr. Holmes and I were in the basement. He
was in the armchair. I was on the bed curled up with a good book. “Modern”
fiction was truncated in range of time for me. I mostly moved back to the
classics, that is, classics even for them. As I got to a good part, I thought I
heard a thump outside our door. Faint. But then another thump. I looked at Mr.
Holmes. Yes he had heard it. I slowly, carefully, got off the bed and moved
toward the door. Mr. Holmes was beside me along the wall as I opened the door. I beheld a tall stack of books before us. All
were JAD’s latest book, at least for title and cover. As I flipped pages, I saw
only photos of Zeeglers. Each succeeding step up the stairs had a lesser stack
and fewer pages of Zeeglers until the top where there was one book standing up.
Plain cover. It contained numerous photos of Basil Rathbone, Clive Brook, Peter
Cushing, and “my” Sherlock Holmes. I thought this could be complementary, but
then I got to a photo of Mr. Holmes in the armchair. This I showed to him.
“We will burn them all.”
And so we did.
The End