Part Three

Professor Smith parked his car in the same spot every night, under the same carport at the same condo. He lived alone, except for a goldfish named Lao Tzu. Less maintenance and hardship, he concluded. The fish's isolation symbolized the invincible wall he'd built around himself.

It would take him exactly three trips to bring in all the groceries, which he did in a manner that would avoid as many neighbors as possible. He never encouraged conversations, and when he did speak, it was always quick answers to someone else's questions. He never used the pool and never attended the summer parties thrown by the management. When he came home, he came to stay.

Angela, one of the professor's neighbors, had found out that he was a philosophy teacher. She always wanted to carry on philosophical conversations, something he truly disliked, not only with Angela but with anyone.

He didn't like Angela. She was working on a Master's degree in Social Work, and along with her youth, carried on egalitarian conversations which he eschewed. She would speak of the philosophy behind ideas such as equal rights, women's rights, rights for people with disabilities, etc.

One time she brought up the horror of a recent news story about a mother who'd abused her child. "Isn't it horrible about that child?" she asked.

"Uh, what?" the professor responded.

"That woman who abused her child...isn't it horrible? She locked him up in a cage down in the basement and fed him only dog food."

"People suffer all over the world. I don't advocate that a child suffer, but abuse is nothing new. Children have suffered since the dawn of mankind. I encourage you to read Plato or St. Augustine. Even better, read Dostoevsky's The Brothers Karamazov. Our society is so weak that we think no one should ever suffer. It will always happen, so get used to it...and get over it."

"But don't we have a responsibility to stop it if we know it's occurring?" Angela retorted.

I don't give a fuck, you stupid bitch! Professor Smith wanted to say. He smiled instead and closed the door to his condo. He had a one-sided esoteric relationship with Angela that he wanted to keep. She was beautiful, and often crept into his thoughts as he lay naked in his bed at night.

The professor placed his groceries in the cabinets in the same places he had for years, and proceeded to relax in his usual fashion. He turned the TV to one of the educational channels, something he did every night. He then went to his bedroom and removed his clothing, replacing his suit with loose shorts and a T-shirt.

Next he reached into the top shelf of his closet and retrieved a shoebox that looked like one of several he kept neatly stacked on the shelf. He placed the box on the bed, but before opening it, he went to the kitchen and fixed himself a glass with ice and water.

The professor made sure that all of his window coverings were closed, so no sneaky little children could observe unbeknownst to him. From his front room window, he could see several women sunbathing themselves at the pool, each wearing a two-piece bikini. He watched for just a moment, and then returned to his bedroom.

He grabbed the shoebox and carried it to the bathroom. He then placed it on the commode and set the glass of ice water on the counter next to the sink. Professor Smith removed a small window screen from the box and took out a pair of pliers. After cutting out a round piece of screen, he brought out a porcelain tool in the shape of a unicorn. It was solid white with shadowing representing the animal's eyes and ears. The base was in the shape of a horse's head, and the tube rounding off the top was shaped like a horn but with an opening at the end. A small hole was located on the back of the porcelain tube, and a hollow metal screw protruded from the unicorn's forehead.

With experienced precision, the professor poured cold water from the glass into the tube, and then reached into the shoebox again. He found the wooden 'bowl,' as he called it, and placed the cut window screen into it.

What he did next would have been front-page news had anyone witnessed it. He reached again into the shoebox and brought out a plastic lunch bag full of sticky green marijuana.

He opened the bag and took out a pinch of weed, then placed it on the screen in the wooden bowl. The seeds had already been removed, so there was little else to do except smoke it.

Professor Smith screwed the wooden bowl into the unicorn's forehead, and to further cool the soon-to-be hot smoke, inserted a piece of melting ice into the narrow tube. Reaching into the shoebox one last time, he grabbed a Bic lighter, and in an often rehearsed move, brought the porcelain unicorn to his mouth with one hand, lit the lighter with the other, and placed the flame over the bowl. He moved the lighter in small circles to evenly ignite the weed, keeping a slow pace while inhaling what he called 'the life-saving force.' Finally, he thought upon exhaling. That was nice.

A lesser, inexperienced person would have certainly coughed out the amount of smoke he took into his lungs, but the professor had long ago learned how to control his intake. His tolerance was high, even though the weed was extremely potent.

The source of his marijuana was known only to him and his contact. He was very aware of his situation, and took numerous precautions to limit a possible scandal.

Smoking weed was not the original source of the professor's isolation; he was a sincerely introverted loner. The let-downs by close acquaintances in his past might better explain his hermitage behavior, but he never complained. "Never let them see you suffer," he'd been overheard saying. The frequent moves from foster home to foster home had built a certain distrust in his being. Having no real mother or father, he simply gave in to his youthful conclusions and decided never to let anyone in.

Professor Smith lay on his bed for a few minutes, thinking about Angela and the women sunbathing out by the pool. He then returned to the bathroom and took several more hits off of his porcelain tool.

There was nothing of interest on the educational channels that night, so he decided to curl up with several books and expand his horizons...horizons that were already colorful. He went to his guest bedroom, which he'd turned into a study, and glanced at several books that he might want to explore while relaxing on the couch.

He had hundreds of books and had read them all, many two or even three times. He often made notes for future classes as he read, either on the margins or the blank pages in front or back of the book. This was the professor's favorite way to prepare for his courses, and he was known for always changing his lectures from semester to semester.

He stood in front of his massive bookshelf, contemplating his next move. I've already read Kierkegaard Anthology twice. The Story of Philosophy and A History of Western Civilization are too elementary. Paul Davies? No...let's see. Stephen Hawking? No, I listened to the tape last week. Carl Sagan? Hmm...The Dragons of Eden. I haven't read this in years. I seem to remember him saying something about marijuana suppressing the dominant part of the brain, so that the non-dominant becomes dominant. Perhaps this explains my artistic side while under the influence. What other books? Oh, yeah. The World as Will and Representation....

And so it went for perhaps fifteen minutes. The professor lost any sense of time, which is one reason he enjoyed his present condition.

He made his way to the couch in the living room, and got comfortable with his books and a large bowl of ice cream with extra chocolate and butterscotch topping. The urge to surf the TV became too strong to resist, so he allowed himself the luxury.

Channel Two was nothing but sports, something Professor Smith had never liked. Channel Three was another educational station, but a special on opera was currently showing, something else the professor had never liked. Channel Four, Seven, and Eleven were the local network affiliates. The local news was on, so the professor paused to see what the catastrophe of the day was.

"This just in," the news anchor said with a gleam in his eye. "A wreck has just taken the life of a pregnant woman and her two children on Interstate 40. We have our Action News crew on the scene. Tony, can you give our viewers an update?"

"That's right, Dean. As you can see behind me, this terrible wreck took the life of a West End family. According to witnesses, the pregnant woman crossed the median and hit head-on a semi truck carrying unidentified chemicals...."

Bullshit! Professor Smith thought. Nothing but crap. This would never had made the news if they'd each died in separate incidents. One person dying isn't big news. People only watch this crap because they like to watch other people suffer. Let's see...in which book does Nietzsche talk about this...."

And so after fifteen minutes of searching for his favorite quote, the professor continued surfing the TV. Channel Fifty-six, Fifty-seven, and Fifty-eight were all music video stations, a waste of time he often repeated to himself. Haven't these kids got anything better to do than sit on their asses watching crap about nothing?

Channel Thirty-seven was broadcasting an evangelist speaking on the inevitable end. "'Then I saw the Evil Creature gathering the governments of the earth and their armies to fight against the one sitting on the horse,' Revelation 19:19. I tell you now, people...Listen to me! Praise the Lord! Our leaders are conspiring against us now, 'These miracle-working demons conferred with all the rulers of the world to gather them for battle against the Lord on that great coming Judgement Day of God Almighty,' Revelation 16:14. The plan is being set...Praise the Lord, Hallelujah! Disease and famine are increasing at an alarming rate as the prophets foretold. 'They have the power to shut the skies so that no rain will fall during the three and a half years they prophesy, and to turn rivers and oceans to blood, and to send every kind of plague upon the earth as often as they wish,' Revelation 11: 6, and 'Seven angels were assigned to carry down to earth the seven last plagues,' Revelation 15:1. Listen, my friends...you better have your name in that Book. 'I saw the dead, great and small, standing before God, and The Books were opened, including the Book of Life. And the dead were judged according to the things written in The Books, each according to the deeds he had done,' Revelation 20:12. Hallelujah! We now have countries battling for nuclear superiority. Did we not just witness two hostile countries test nuclear bombs? 'The nations and kingdoms of the earth will rise against each other and there will be famines and earthquakes in many places,' Matthew 24:7. Did you hear what I just said? Earthquakes! Was it not just last week that twenty-five thousand people died in the Middle East from an earthquake? How many people must die from AIDS for us to become aware of the Second Coming...."

You lying manipulative bastard! Professor Smith thought. When are you going to ask for money? Come on...when? The contempt he felt was overt, and his atheistic beliefs rushed through his bloodstream like a river toward the ocean. They all lie...every one of them! Why can't people open their eyes? This bastard cares about no one but himself. All he wants is money. Lies, damn lies! Why don't you explain plate tectonics to your viewers? Tell them how the crust of the earth moves and how earthquakes occur along the ridges. Tell them how we've always had famine, earthquakes and war. Go on and tell them, you self-centered son-of-a-bitch! No, you won't do that, will you? It wouldn't serve your purpose.

He was hypnotized and addicted like a heroin addict to the extravaganza he was witnessing. He held his TV remote, but couldn't force himself to change the channel.

A commercial on how to buy videotapes of the sermon followed the flamboyant preacher. "For three easy payments of \$19.95, you can own...."

Then another charismatic evangelist came on, this one a healer. "Have we ever met or discussed your medical history?" he asked a man with a cane.

"No," the man whispered.

Upon hearing this, the healer hit the palm of his hand against the man's forehead. "The Devil be gone!"

Several men onstage caught the man with the cane as he fell backward. He then quickly jumped to his feet, shouting, "I'm cured! The Devil is no longer inside me."

"I'll be damned!" Professor Smith yelled. It's all a fake! Either that or the man is suffering from hypochondria. And look at the people in the audience! Why are they there? Are they being paid? Do they really believe this crap? Enough of this.

He went upstairs where he took another hit of his mind-numbing weed, then he decided to turn the TV off and listen to music while reading his books. He scanned the radio, looking for the perfect station. The first one he came to was playing an old Beatles tune about lonely people and where they came from. He'd never admired the group as much as his peers, so he moved on. Can't I ever find a station not playing commercials?

He went through his CDs and cassette tapes, searching for the most appropriate music to compliment his present mood. Finally, he settled on Beethoven, someone he always felt he could identify with because of their mutual suffering.

Suffering.... His eyes were fixed on a spider in a corner of the room; it had just caught a small bug in its web of death. The professor watched the bug struggle, never once taking his marijuana-induced high off of its unfortunate situation. I could save you if I wanted, he thought with a tinge of excitement. But nature must take its course...I must be an unobtrusive observer.

Professor Smith then took out a Leo Tolstoy tale about the death of Ivan Ilyitch, and stacked it onto Doestoesky's book about four brothers and the story of Viktor Frankl's time spent in a Nazi concentration camp. So many views on suffering.

On Thursday he would teach about the meaning of suffering, an Existentialist theme he enjoyed beyond comparison; he'd written many articles on the subject. And so like hundreds of days before, Professor Smith lay on the floor of his front room, high from smoking weed as he prepared for the next class. I'll blow their tiny minds. They read only about Spiderman and famous athletes, when there's Sartre, Nietzche, Tolstoy, and Schopenhauer. They say they're Christians, so let's see what they know about the Book of Job. These kids today know nothing about suffering. They don't give a rat's ass about how many people died during WWII. This will be the great tragedy of the future. As they become leaders, they will repeat the same mistakes, and with the massive weapons of today...God help them. Did I say God? Whatever....

He searched diligently through his books for the perfect quotes. Whether or not he would use them, he didn't know. He scribbled down one of his favorite quotes by Viktor Frankl: "No one can relieve him of his suffering or suffer in his place. His unique opportunity lies in the way in which he bears his burden."

These lazy kids nowadays pout like I'm supposed to feel sorry for them. Well, to hell with them all. That's it! I'll compare this quote with Tolstoy's tale of Ivan Ilyitch. The professor made more notes, a juxtaposition of sorts between Frankl and Tolstoy. "Apart from this deception, or in consequence of it, what made the greatest misery for Ivan Ilyitch was that no one felt for him as he would have liked them to feel for him. At certain moments, after prolonged suffering, Ivan Ilyitch longed more than anything for someone to feel sorry for him, as for a sick child."

That's it! I'll compare Viktor Frankl's theme of suffering with this theme of Tolstoy's. They won't get it, but to watch them struggle will enlighten me. Professor Smith marveled at his fortuitous insight. He then noticed dark and light concentric circles emanating from the light fixture over the dining room table. This reflection off of the ceiling became a source of frustration for him. Why do I have trouble visualizing the quantum mechanics of light?

He was well-acquainted with the uncertainty in life. The confusion that caused chaos for many in the world was a source of strength for him, but he still sought after the secrets of life...with a hint of anxiety.

Had someone been a fly on the wall, they would have laughed at the professor's deep stare at the light reflected on his dining room ceiling. If you know the position of the photon, you can't know its momentum, but if you know its momentum, you can't know its position. And if I use anything artificial to measure this, then I've introduced a variable that pollutes my conclusions.

Consciousness slowly returned to Professor Smith. He heard a bunch of kids having fun out in the pool area, which became another source of frustration for him. Even though he never used the pool, he became irate when guests of his neighbors entertained themselves.

Must they carry on so? He walked across the room and peered out of his front window. From the outside looking in, someone would observe the horizontally-arranged venetian blinds spread apart, with two eyes peeking out.

What would be described as a diatribe crossed the professor's mind. Can't they hold it down? Look at them...all college students. Don't they have their studies to look after? This is bullshit! I can't get anything done with such racket going on. I have a good mind to go out and tell them myself.

Several young adults were playing volleyball in the pool. The women straddled their long tanned legs over the shoulders of tall muscular men while hitting the ball back and forth across the net strung over the water.

The professor found their activities seductive. One particular female especially diverted his attention; her image burned itself into his mind.

Beer was openly consumed, and the radio got louder as the evening progressed.This is what I'm talking about, Professor Smith thought as blood rushed to his head. They have it too easy. They know nothing of suffering.

He closed the steel curtain and went back upstairs, intending to give the condo management a piece of his mind the next day.