Excerpt:

Chapter One - Richard

It was the first week of the semester. It was Autumn in Calgary and although the days were still shirt sleeve warm, the nights betrayed the sinister intent of winter. A walk from car to class from one of the distant lots in the morning, among the golden-leaved trees shimmering in the cold westerly breeze made one look towards the snow-capped Rockies that seemed so close.

After classes, the Student’s Union Building (SUB) was a haven of warmth and social activity. There were coffee bars and seating areas for convivial conversation, the book store where hundreds of students lined up to ensure they had the necessary texts for the ensuing semester’s lectures and the Union offices. The bar opened only in the evenings. Most classes were done by then, except for the ones that began at 6pm for the benefit of those with jobs and for Professors with drinking problems who couldn’t get up before noon, or so it was rumoured.

We gathered around a table big enough to seat eight to get acquainted. Some of us were in the same class or department. Ellen and Joe were siblings attending the University together but Joe was two years ahead of Ellen and in Engineering and she was in Sociology. Petra was here for Dramatic Arts but as a first year was registered in General Studies. Nonetheless she was already neck deep in drama. Her life was a social blur and the energy coming off her was a wonder to behold. Casual observers must think she was on speed. I had my own theories. Steven had gotten caught up in her social net and his fascination with her was obvious. He was in her English Lit 317 class. They were sharing texts to save money.

Priya was in the same Lit class. She was born in Delhi and her family emigrated to Canada when she was only 8. She wore Indian dress when it suited her but her accent was pure Canadian, although she spoke Hindi fluently. I had a major crush on her already with her dark eyes and sinuous way of walking. She sipped her tea and looked demurely at me across the table as Petra chattered about her day.

“That Professor Jonnison is so into himself, I mean, who makes one of their own books the set book for the semester? I mean really, who does that?” protested Petra.

Joe offered, “Oh, about half the Poli-Sci profs and all of the Profs in Philosphy and anybody in the Arts who has actually published a book usually. The main reason I chose the U of C Engineering faculty was because one of the Profs here wrote the bible on Strength of Materials, which is the text for several classes in the undergraduate syllabus.” He smiled at Petra who barely blinked, but realized that Joe was in his Junior year and she was a freshman, to use the American designation.
“Yeah? Well, it just seems so egotistical. What is he, the authority on the subject? I dunno, I’d just like to feel that class was more egalitarian, you know? Like we were all on this journey of discovery together and that the Prof was just there as our guide?”

Steven laughed aloud at this and we all joined in the chuckle at Petra’s expense but we felt empathetic, with her dreams anyway.

“Yeah, that would be nice,” I said, “But come December when the exams start and they expect our final papers in for the term, that’s when the gloves come off and we see who’s our spirit guide and who is the Examiner. Better we should think that they are all Inquisitors of the Star Chamber right now and have no delusions!”

"Richard, that sounds so ominous! And I thought I was the drama queen,” laughed Petra and the rest joined in the mirth.

“Oh, here’s Sonya, she’s in my Psych 323 class. Sonya!” Petra called out to a girl with her arms loaded with plastic bags from the bookstore that looked very heavy. She staggered to the table and unloaded them onto the chair, then collapsed into the one beside it.
"Here. Let me move my jacket," said Steven, reaching said jacket which was being crushed by Sonya's arrival.

She moved suddenly to free it. "Oh! Sorry," she said.

Petra zoned in on Sonya immediately.

"Did you get all the books you need? How about the Lit 312 course, the one the Prof. wrote? We were just talking about it. Don't you think he's a bit arrogant assigning his own book for the course? I mean, really?"

Sonya blinked rapidly and dabbed at her forehead with a handkerchief she had plucked from her purse, one of two large bags she had over her shoulder. She seemed to be carrying everything she owned.

"I got everything on my list except one that is on back order. I know what you mean about the Lit Prof. He seems so young to have written a University text.

"Oh, I don't know, A.J.Ayer wrote Language, Truth and Logic at 23, when he was still an undergraduate. That was in 1920 something and it is still being used as a course book in Philosophy," offered Steven.

Petra and Sonya glared at him. He had the grace and good sense to blush. "Well, he did."
"So what else did I miss?" asked Sonya, changing the subject.

Petra said, "I am so excited by just being here that I've been dreaming about this for weeks and finall it's all coming true! I love being a student at University." Petra almost hugged herself with glee as she gushed. We all were amused by her enthusiasm.

Joe said,"You may have been dreaming about it but the nightmares will start soon enough, when all the exams and papers start coming due at the same time. Enjoy it while you can 'cos you will be losing sleep before you know it."

Petra pouted."I'll have you know I sleep like a baby and I only have nice dreams."
Ellen cleared her throat. "I had a dream last night that wasn't the nicest one I've ever had."
Sonya was suddenly very interested. She and Ellen had some of the same Sociology classes. "Tell us about it."

"Yes," agreed Petra, "what did you dream?"
Ellen balked. "I don't know if I should. As I said it wasn't all that nice."
Sonya reassured her. "That's okay. We're all adults. Nobody is going to have nightmares because of your bad dream."

"Yeah," agreed Petra, "They aren't catching!"

"Okay. I was holding this baby and it was crying and I was trying to comfort it. I was doing social work with this family and they were a bit unusual," began Ellen.

"You mean like weird?" inquired Sonya.

"No, not like that. I'll explain. There was the mother of the baby, who was nearly hysterical. That was what was upsetting the baby and I was tryi ng to calm her down and comfort the baby at the same time. She was frantic that she couldn't look after the baby because she was afraid that she would hurt it. The other two people were her Mom and Dad. They were kind of strange but maybe it only seemed that way because they didn't speak much English. They were Romanian or something."
I asked Ellen, "What did this have to do with you?"

Ellen replied, "That's another weird thing. I was an intern social worker and not supposed to be handling a case on my own but I was there trying to look after this child and help this family work out a program to look after the little girl."

"Where were you?" asked Petra, all bright-eyed and interested.

"That's odd too, because we were all sitting in my Cadillac outside their house I guess. It was a farmhouse down a long laneway that looked like it wasn't used much. I don't think they left the farm very often. Anyway, I don't own a Cadillac. The baby was wrapped in a pink blanket with holes. It was an Afghan that I think the old lady had made for it. I shushed it and hugged her but she was hungry and the mother wouldn't stop fretting. The old lady was trying to calm her and I was trying to get my socialk worker on my cell phone but the signal wasn't good. I figured I would have to take the baby away but I didn't really have the authority being only an intern and anyway I think it was my day off."
"Did they want to give it up?" I asked.

"Not really. The mother just wanted relief from having to care for her because she was afraid of hurting her. At least that was what she said, but I don't know. The old man kept saying he trusted me and that they were sure I would be able to help them. He spoke very rough English and smiled a lot but I don't think he wanted to let the baby girl leave the farm. He ket saying We trust you, and all I wanted to do was drive her away to safety."

Somya asked thoughtfully. "Do you think he would hurt the mother or the little girl?"

Ellen bit her lip and replied. "I wondered that too. Mom wanted to get me to take it and he kept saying we trust you. The old lady didn't say anything to me but she spoke in Romanian to the Mom, but then the old man said something that made my blood run cold."

"What?" demanded Petra. "Don't keep us in suspense like this!"

Ellen took a deep breath. "He said he was the baby's father."

"Christ!" exclaimed Steven, stunned by the revelation.

"Oh My God!" said Priya, who had listened without comment until now.

"He was the baby's father?!" exclaimed Sonya, flabbergasted.

"Yes. The old woman noddded when he said he was the baby's father and that they knew I would protect their interests and help them with the baby."

"How old was the baby's Mom?" I asked.

"I know what you're thinking Richard. I thought that at first too. She was twenty-three and she seemed to be okay with her father being the baby's father. The old lady didn't freak out when he told me."

"Yes," I said, "But do you think it was true? I mean was there a father and the old man was just covering up?"

Ellen seemed startled by that possibility.

"Oh. I hadn't even considered that. But the mom didn't deny it. I looked closely at her like they trained us and I don't think she was lying. I guess I just thought that because they were from a strange country and seemed to live a reclusive lifestyle that incest between adults was something I shouldn't worry about."

"Shouldn't worry about!" blurted Steven. "What do they teach you over in Sociology anyway?!
Ellen was on the defensive now.

"Well, it was a dream after all. My first concern was for the baby.."
Petra jumped in. "What happened next?"

Ellen blinked at her, glanced at Steven and continued.

"Well, I managed to calm the baby enough to start the car. I don't remember what I told them. I think I said I had to drive closer to town so I could get a call through to my social worker and I drove away from the farm. The baby seemed to go to sleep on my lap as I drove into town. I couldn't hold her drive and use the cell so I drove to the office building where the Ministry of Children and Families was. I hoped I would get some help there and I felt a bit safer than if I was alone."
"So what happened next?" asked Sonya.

"I got to town, pulled up in front of the MInistry and parked. Then I called my social worker supervisor. She came down and took the child from me. There was a security guy there too nad they took the family inside. I wanted to stay with the girl because it was my case. I mean, I was only an intern and can't really have a case, but I felt like I should see it through. But the social worker told me they would take it from there and that I was done with it now."

"And.." pressed Petra.

"And I just sat in my Cadillac and cried. I don't think I have ever felt so sad in my life, at least not since my cat died when I was a little girl."

"That's it?" I asked.

"Well, yes," said Ellen. "Except.."

"What?" asked Sonya.

Ellen gave a big sigh. "Except that my dream took a strange twist then."
"Now, a strange twist!" exclaimed Steven.

"The next thing I remember I was at my workbench on the third floor of the MInistry or a building like it anyway and I was paging through a book of office designs. Each double page spread was custom made for the worker that occupied that office. One was for a camera company, a big name, you would all know it."

"Which one? Olympus? Canon?"

"I don't remember," said Ellen, "But you would all recognize it. Anyway, each cupboared in the office was etched with a relevant, suitable design. One door was an image of the camera itself. The next was of a set of accessories. The next was some electronic thingie for the camera, and so on. The next page was for a commercial kitchen suplier and the cupboard doors had images etched on them to complement that business and each page after that was for a different kind of business."
"So it was an office design catalogue?" asked Steven.

"Yes," agreed Ellen. "I guess so."

"And this had nothing to do with the baby girl and the social worker and the family with the father abusing the daughter?" inquired Petra.

"No, not really. Except that I realized all of the designs in the catalogue were mine."

"Oi vay!" exclaimed Petra, throwing up her hands.

Sonya asked, "That's it?"

Steven and I laughed.

Ellen shrugged and looked a little crestfallen.

"I know. It seems wrong to shift so completely like that but.."

I patted her shoulder.

"Don't worry about it. It was only a dream. Most dreams don't mean anything at all, not really," I offered to comfort her.

"What?" blurted Petra. "Of course they do! That's why we dream! To sort out our real lives. It's like theater for the soul. What you dream is to test what you'd like to happen and to see whether you would like it in real life."

"Where did you get that idea?" asked Steven.

"It's in all the books!" protested Petra, sounding desperate.

"What books?" asked Steven gently.

"Oh, you're just a man what do you know about a woman's dreams?"

I couldn't help laughing at Steven's chagrin.

"Better quit while you're ahead Steven," I suggested.

I glanced at my watch.

"Anybody got any more classes today?" I asked.

"Not me," said Sonya.

I looked at Joe, who hadn't said anything during Ellen's dream reverie. He shook his head.
"Same here," said Steven "We're done for the day."

I said, "Well, I am going to hit the bookstore before all the good stuff is gone, then I am going to work out over at the fishbowl in the Phys. Ed. building."

"Fish bowl?" asked Steven.

"That's what they call the weight room for the general student population. It has a round shape and the roof is open to the running track upstairs so people can look in from above. Oh, and glass walls to view the basketball courts below and on the hallway side too. Hence the fishbowl. I may swim if it's not too crowded."

"Okay then. Maybe we'll see you tomorrow."

"'Bye"

They all offered good-byes and I split.

***

Chapter Two - Steffi

Steffi, a willowy redhead, with Kidman looks, stood on the landing of science B studying the stairs between floors four and five of the 12 storey tower. On the front face of the steps in white chalk, some anonymous author slash graffiti artist had written a long story in cursive script.. it began on the lowest step of the stairs on the second sub-basement and read from left to right in the usual way as you ascended to the uppermost landing, beyond which there was no public access.

Steffi had noticed the scrawl before of course but had never taken the time to read it on those occasions. Today was different. A particular phrase caught her eye just as does a word or phrase on a page in the newspaper. The eye sees it and something in the reticular hindbrain makes us stop and re-examine the mass of print until we find what it was to which our reptilian sub-consciousness had alerted us. Steffi read the lines on the stair fronts, ignoring the students who brushed past her on their way to classes above. Then someone stopped and spoke to her.

“Excuse me, are you all right, Miss?”

“Ah,“ gasped Steffi, shaking her head. “Yes. Yes, I’m fine.”

She smiled at her own gawkishness. “Thank you.”

He moved on past her and up the stairs. Steffi glanced again at the curiously compelling yet ubiquitous script. She hurried up the steps herself to her first lecture. She would come back later to study the writing. Something attracted her to it.

Two lectures and six hours later she descended the same stairwell, her head spinning with new knowledge and new questions. The message on the stairs, she thought. Oh, not now.. All she could think of was getting to the pool to relax with a little exercise before eating. She crossed the campus in afternoon sunlight with long eager strides.

***

Steffi emerged onto the pool deck in her teal green Tyr one-piece, padding barefoot across the tiles while checking the adjustment of the strap on her goggles, also from Tyr. She envisioned herself on the back cover of a magazine, a harmless vanity. She stuck her tongue into the hollow backside of the goggles and licked the lenses. Rubbing them clean with her finger, and smearing her saliva around the lightly tinted plastic to prevent fogging, Steffi glanced at the water, assessing the lane traffic. The pool was undisturbed, its surface glassy reflecting the banners on the wall opposite the bleachers proclaiming past CIAU swimming titles won by the Dinos swim teams. She was first one there.

Good, she thought, I have the pool to myself for a while anyway.

She dove cleanly into the undisturbed water, her entry just slightly less than perfect because the eye finds it difficult to focus on the surface of motionless water. She enjoyed the cool liquid washing over her body tightening her chest reflexively. She glided two body lengths, then smoothly began her stroke. For the first nine strokes she did not breathe. Then she rolled her body upwards to the left in harmony with her arm recovery and drew her first breath. Shre pulled her hand towards her chest drawing an s-shape through the water then pushed the water past her chest and abdomen to her crotch and finished the stroke with her thumb brushing he thigh. She exhaled through her nose and mouth just in time to turn her head on the third stroke to the right and gulp a lungful of air.
She went through the checklist, mentally reviewing all the pointers given her by coaches and about which she had read, in a long rehearsed ritual, settling into her rhythm.

At each end of the pool she flipped smoothly in a tumbling motion planting her feet on the wall, waiting for her trunk to align itself horizontally, then thrusting away in the opposite direction, extending her arms above her head, her hands knifing through the water. Gliding, then just as her momentum began to fade, pulling with her left hand first, rolling, reaching, breathing, following through, exhaling, becoming one with the liquid medium through which she swam, not fighting it, feeling the water. Her touch was deft, just enough force, no wasted motion. Don’t bruise the water, Steffi, one coach had told her. She was calm, allowing no emotions to disturb her rhythm, as she manipulated the water coaxing it to let her glide through it.

Sometimes she counted laps. Today she pondered the writing on the wall, or on the steps in this case.
***

Steffi was into her second five hundred metre interval when Richard got into the pool. He had done 3 circuits of eight exercises and planned a lazy kilometre swim to relax before hitting the sauna for twenty minutes then home to eat and do some course reading. He noticed someone at the other end of the pool and one person at the shallow end watching the pacing clock on the wall. When the red hand reached twelve o'clock the swimmer, a man about his age, took off, swimming towards the deep end. Richard thought, I can share with two others. No problem.

The pool was 50 metres long today and they could all manage to fit in one lane. The varsity team had use of the other lanes today but they kept one open for students. He adjusted his goggles and jumped in. Before long he was in a rhythm and noticed the other two only when they passed, keeping to the right to avoid collisions.

Ten more laps and I'm done, he thought. The man had just passed him going down the pool to the shallow end when he felt the disturbance in the water on his left. He rolled to breathe on that side and saw a green blur slide by him. He saw enough of the slim hips and pale skin to realize it was a girl. She went by him like he was standing still and he caught a glimpse of a pair of slender white feet. Just before they were enveloped in bubbles he saw that she wore a toe ring on her left foot. Second toe.

Hmmm, he thought. Nice. Wonder what she looks like, he thought. He picked up his pace but realized very quickly that he had left too much energy in the weight room to catch her. He glanced her way when she returned going the other way just before he reached the deep end and turned himself. She had red hair, he noticed. Bubbles streamed from her nose and mouth as she exhaled and with the goggles as well it was impossible to tell if she was pretty. He felt a little disappointed. Just like everyone else, Richard liked it when women shared his interests. He kept a look out for her each time they passed in the lane going opposite ways. He was determined not to let her lap him twice and he was being stretched to keep ahead of her. Each time he turned she was a little closer. Then as he approached the shallow end, she wasn't there. She had finished her workout and exited the pool. Richard reached the wall and surfaced even though he had four more laps to do.
He saw Steffi walking away towards the female changing room. He liked her willowy look and the way she padded across the tiles, her forefoot touching down before her heel.

Like a dancer, he thought. Steffi disappeared through the swinging doors and he sighed, replaced his goggles and turned to finish his last two hundred metres.

***