me, so this time I decided to speak."
Everyone
turned to watch Blanes and Elisa, as if they were tennis pros in a
match that had come down to the final seconds of the deciding set.
Then Blanes turned back to Valente and smiled.
"Please,
go ahead, Valente," he asked again.
Valente,
sitting there primly, with his thin lanky body and white skin, looked
like an ice sculpture seated at a desk. He answered immediately, in a
loud, clear voice.
As
she watched his emaciated profile, Elisa had to admire one simple
detail: even though Valente gave the
same reply as
her, he did it in his own way, using his own words, somehow making it
seem as if that was what he'd been thinking all along, before he'd
even heard her, even making a slight mistake with his variables that
Blanes quickly corrected. Defending
his territory, like me, she
thought, pleasantly surprised. So
now we're tied, Valente Sharpe.
When
Valente finished his elucidation, Blanes said, "Very good. Thank
you." Then he looked down and stared at a spot between his feet.
"This
course is for theoretical physics graduates," he proceeded
quietly, his voice hoarse. "For adults. If any more of you are
planning to have childish outbursts, I would kindly ask you to leave
the room first. Please keep that in mind." Then, looking up
again, this time neither at Valente nor Elisa but at the whole class,
he added in the same hushed tone, "Aside from that, Ms.
Robledo's solution is brilliant."
She
felt a chill. He's
naming me because I was the first one to say it. She
recalled something one of her optics professors used to say: "In
science, you're allowed to be a complete asshole; just make sure
you're the first asshole."
She didn't, however, feel any great pleasure, or even glee. In fact,
a wave of shame swept over her.
Out
of the corner of her eye, she watched Valente Sharpe's inexpressive
profile. Congratulations,
Elisa. Today you were the first asshole.
She
looked down and shielded her eyes with her hand to hide her tears.
WHEN Elisa
got home, she was so flustered by the morning's events that she
didn't even care about the new e-mail from mercuryfriend in her
inbox. Since she knew the attachment would kick into action and fill
her screen no matter what she did, she just went ahead and opened it.
The slide show began.
She
was about to look away when she noticed a difference.
Mixed
in among the erotic drawings were others: a man walking, hunched over
under the weight of a stone on his shoulders; a World War I soldier
carrying a girl in a little chair on his back; a male dancer on
another man's shoulders ... Finally, in the same red letters on black
background, appeared a new, enigmatic proclamation: " I f You A re W ho Y ou T hink Y ou A re, Y ou'll K now."
What
was that about? Uncomprehending, Elisa shrugged and turned off her
computer. But she had a strange feeling and stood motionless in front
of the screen a few more seconds.
She
decided it must have been some random detail, something she'd
forgotten and was trying to remember. Sooner or later, it would come
to her.
Next
she took off her clothes and took a long, hot shower to help her
relax. By the time she emerged from the bathroom, she'd forgotten all
about the message and was thinking about what had happened in class.
Blanes's scorn spurred her on. The
harder I try, the more he hates me. Without
even getting dressed, she spread her towel on the bed and stretched
out on it with her notes and books, planning to make a few
calculations that she thought might help her with the project she had
to hand in.
There
were only five days of class left. The last one was planned to
coincide with a two-day international symposium at the Palacio de
Congresos that some of the world's best physicists would be
attending, including Stephen Hawking and Blanes himself. By that
date, each student had to hand in a study examining possible
solutions to the problems thrown up by the sequoia theory.
Elisa
tried out a new idea. The results were
Everyone
turned to watch Blanes and Elisa, as if they were tennis pros in a
match that had come down to the final seconds of the deciding set.
Then Blanes turned back to Valente and smiled.
"Please,
go ahead, Valente," he asked again.
Valente,
sitting there primly, with his thin lanky body and white skin, looked
like an ice sculpture seated at a desk. He answered immediately, in a
loud, clear voice.
As
she watched his emaciated profile, Elisa had to admire one simple
detail: even though Valente gave the
same reply as
her, he did it in his own way, using his own words, somehow making it
seem as if that was what he'd been thinking all along, before he'd
even heard her, even making a slight mistake with his variables that
Blanes quickly corrected. Defending
his territory, like me, she
thought, pleasantly surprised. So
now we're tied, Valente Sharpe.
When
Valente finished his elucidation, Blanes said, "Very good. Thank
you." Then he looked down and stared at a spot between his feet.
"This
course is for theoretical physics graduates," he proceeded
quietly, his voice hoarse. "For adults. If any more of you are
planning to have childish outbursts, I would kindly ask you to leave
the room first. Please keep that in mind." Then, looking up
again, this time neither at Valente nor Elisa but at the whole class,
he added in the same hushed tone, "Aside from that, Ms.
Robledo's solution is brilliant."
She
felt a chill. He's
naming me because I was the first one to say it. She
recalled something one of her optics professors used to say: "In
science, you're allowed to be a complete asshole; just make sure
you're the first asshole."
She didn't, however, feel any great pleasure, or even glee. In fact,
a wave of shame swept over her.
Out
of the corner of her eye, she watched Valente Sharpe's inexpressive
profile. Congratulations,
Elisa. Today you were the first asshole.
She
looked down and shielded her eyes with her hand to hide her tears.
WHEN Elisa
got home, she was so flustered by the morning's events that she
didn't even care about the new e-mail from mercuryfriend in her
inbox. Since she knew the attachment would kick into action and fill
her screen no matter what she did, she just went ahead and opened it.
The slide show began.
She
was about to look away when she noticed a difference.
Mixed
in among the erotic drawings were others: a man walking, hunched over
under the weight of a stone on his shoulders; a World War I soldier
carrying a girl in a little chair on his back; a male dancer on
another man's shoulders ... Finally, in the same red letters on black
background, appeared a new, enigmatic proclamation: " I f You A re W ho Y ou T hink Y ou A re, Y ou'll K now."
What
was that about? Uncomprehending, Elisa shrugged and turned off her
computer. But she had a strange feeling and stood motionless in front
of the screen a few more seconds.
She
decided it must have been some random detail, something she'd
forgotten and was trying to remember. Sooner or later, it would come
to her.
Next
she took off her clothes and took a long, hot shower to help her
relax. By the time she emerged from the bathroom, she'd forgotten all
about the message and was thinking about what had happened in class.
Blanes's scorn spurred her on. The
harder I try, the more he hates me. Without
even getting dressed, she spread her towel on the bed and stretched
out on it with her notes and books, planning to make a few
calculations that she thought might help her with the project she had
to hand in.
There
were only five days of class left. The last one was planned to
coincide with a two-day international symposium at the Palacio de
Congresos that some of the world's best physicists would be
attending, including Stephen Hawking and Blanes himself. By that
date, each student had to hand in a study examining possible
solutions to the problems thrown up by the sequoia theory.
Elisa
tried out a new idea. The results were
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