Blear

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Alexei Eremin. Blear

Chapter I

Chapter II

Chapter III

Chapter IV

Chapter V

Chapter VI

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The curtain-veiled window was ajar. A thin ray stretched diagonally through the dim office to the desk. A smoldering wisp rose diagonally following the ray of sunlight towards the window, originating from a square malachite ashtray… rough, as if created by an ancient master. Behind the desk sat Professor Peter Blear. He was thirty five. His reddened eyes peered at the monitor through rectangular horn-rimmed glasses. His right hand slowly dragged the mouse towards him on its mat – lines of Greek text made way for fresh ones. Above the lines were reflected two balding patches surrounded by short black hair. He glanced down and jotted something on a sheet of paper, his neck pricked by sprouting stubble. The sparsely adorned back of his head illuminated the screen.

His autarchic boss Joan, director of the university’s Ancient History Department at the Faculty of History, had gone home long ago. Every wily professor had also cleared out, leaving him with the scientific conference program project. He wrote e-mails to his colleagues until late that evening and toiled in search of new publications on the Internet covering “Economic and Cultural Delian League Member City-State Inter-relationships”. Peter read, wrote, typed. But sometimes, like red wine in an amphora, his body filled with ardent fury. He threw the mouse – it hung from the table by its cord. He threw a pen – it bounced off the staunchly latched door. He pushed off from his desk – his wheeled office chair slammed into the wall. Everyone was off taking care of their own business, once again dumping their workload on him. As usual, he had failed to refuse!

.....

“Is it possible they think I’ll come with them? During my vacation time?!” Peter didn’t dare smile openly. Behind the table, everyone observed him like dogs waiting for a bit of meat from their handler. “But the thing is that… Beth would really like to come with us. But since nearly everyone goes on vacation during the summer, there are no teachers left in the department. You’d agree to trade your vacation time with sweet Beth, wouldn’t you?”

“No, I won’t trade”, said Peter clearly and distinctly, as if giving an order.

.....