Project Spiralbound

Project Spiralbound

  T. K. Jones

  Copyright 2012 by T. K. Jones

  John Mortenson was a bright, young mathematics major at an Ivy League university. He was a few years younger than the other freshmen and to further outcast him, he was overly quiet and serious. Most of his dorm mates cannot recall a time when he smiled. They do not recall him ever laughing but do remember his strange and perpetual sneer which perhaps was meant as a smile or a laugh, though there was nothing jovial about it. It was a condescending sneer.

  John was the poorest of the students around him having come from a blue collar family of immigrants. He received a full scholarship that made it possible for him to attend this school of boys mostly born with a silver spoon in their mouths. He owned about three different outfits that became noticeably tattered and ragged as the months went by.

  John resided in Welsley Hall, a three story house in a secluded corner of the campus. Everyone who lived in Welsley Hall was chosen to live there. They were all overachievers in the Mathematics or Science department, each person with their own quirks. But none as strange as John.

  John lived on the third floor, which consisted of just two attic-like rooms with an angular, sloping ceiling. The third floor was always dimly lit. No one, other than John and Dewey Kennedy, the other third floor dweller, ever had a reason to go up there unless on some very rare occasion.

  But the handful of times people have gone up there, they’ve returned with reports of a strange odor like rotting lunch meat, though John himself did not smell of poor hygiene. He just appeared disheveled, much like his messy room with papers everywhere obstructing the view of the floor. Papers and books were piled in every place possible.

  After classes one day as John approached his room, he saw a note taped up on his door. He took it and threw it on his bed, forgetting about it until later that night. He needed to get straight to his studies.

  The note read:

  PHILOSOPHY GRAD STUDENT LOOKING FOR BRIGHT UNDERGRADUATES INTERESTED IN DISCUSSING PHILOSOPHICAL IDEAS. PAYS $12 PER HOUR. FRIDAY-SUNDAY, 6-8PM IN DUNN HALL ROOM 114.

  John had absolutely no money and he enjoyed philosophical thinking and debates but the opportunity rarely came up for discussions. Plus, this was a grad student so he had to be smarter than all the other people he’s had bull sessions with. He had a few hours per week to spare. They would be taken out of his study time but he didn’t mind, as he needed the money badly and this seemed like easy money. No real work.

  The next day, a Friday, John got as much studying done as he could after class before heading to Dunn Hall to meet with whoever it was that left the note on his door. As he walked across the quiet campus he wondered why it was left on his door, and who left it. Was it random? John liked to imagine that it was because he was so smart that he was chosen to participate in this discussion with a graduate student. He assumed that they would both be on the same level, or that he was even smarter than this grad student. He did skip a few grades in his school career.

  John reached Dunn Hall a few minutes before 6PM and ended up circling the entire ground floor before finding room 114. If he went left instead of right upon entering he would have reached the room in just a few steps. He cursed himself under his breath. He hated when he did things like this and took a while to get over it, even though it wasn’t really a big deal.

  The door was open and John peered inside to find a large conference table with many chairs. At the head of the table sat a young man, smiling.

  “Come in!” he greeted John cheerily and stood up to shake his hand. “I’m Hank, the grad student. I’m glad you got my note. And which one are you?”

  Which one am I? John thought indignantly. Disappointedly, he imagined a dozen other undergrads who thought they were Einsteins sitting around the table with him, all talking over one another and showing off.

  “John,” he mumbled.

  “Oh OK, good.” Hank sensed John’s disappointment and quickly added, “Don’t worry. Today you’re all just filling out questionnaires. The next meetings will be the debates or discussions or whatever you want to call it. More one-on-one.”

  John nodded. “OK.”

  “So, please, have a seat, grab a No. 2 pencil and fill out the questionnaire.”

  John sat four seats away from Hank and quietly filled out the very long 100 question form. Hank did not speak but watched intently.

  One by one the others started to file in. Every time one came in, John tried his hardest not to look up or make eye contact with him. To look uninterested. He had to maintain his mysterious, mad genius front. He was a mysterious, mad genius, but he wanted to make sure that everyone would see that. “Be aloof,” was his motto.

  The more people that filed in, the more distracted he became. He started to rock back and forth, rhythmically and softly tapped his pencil on the table. He did this while studying in his room. It helped him concentrate. Like a metronome.

  When he finally finished he gave the questionnaire and pencil to Hank who then pulled him outside the room to have a word with him without disturbing the others.

  “So what did you think?” Hank asked.

  “I don’t know. Kind of weird.” John answered honestly.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Some of the questions were kind of personal, don’t you think?” John did not want to bring up any specific question out of sheer embarrassment, but there were some discussing perversions and things of that sort. He answered those questions vaguely.

  “Oh, I wouldn’t know. I didn’t write the questions.” Hank shrugged. “Haven’t even looked at ‘em.”

  John didn’t know what to make of this. He felt like he had been tricked somehow but he couldn’t pinpoint exactly how.

  “Oh,” was all John could say.

  “OK, so you’ll be here tomorrow at the same time, right?” Hank tilted his head, clearly waiting for a positive answer.

  “Yes.” John said. He didn’t see why not. According to what Hank told him earlier, it would be one-on-one after that first day. “I’ll be here.”

  “Good.”

  The following day, John was having second thoughts. His trust in the whole opportunity waned after finding out that Hank didn’t even write the questionnaire. He was only administering it.

  6PM was quickly approaching and John became increasingly irritated. He tried to talk himself out of his irrational anxiety, but all in vain. He went back and forth. I’ll go. No, I won’t. Yes, I will!

  6 o’clock came and went and John still sat mumbling to himself. Mentally noting the pros and cons on returning to Dunn Hall’s room 114. It was 6:15 PM when a knock on the door startled John out of his maddening trance.

  He opened the door to find Hank standing there with his hands on his hips.

  “Hey, what happened? Why didn’t you come?” He nosily peered into John’s pigsty room. “You busy?”

  “No, sorry. I lost track of time.” John felt trapped. He tried to stealthily block Hank’s view but Hank maneuvered in such a way to where he was able to step into John’s stuffy, crowded room.

  “Looks like you’ve been working on… something.” Hank eyed the piles and piles of papers and books that cluttered the room. He wrinkled his nose at the sour stench that overwhelmed the small space.

  “Yeah,” John answered hastily and used his body to push Hank out of his room. He grabbed his jacket off a nail on the wall and flicked the light off. “Let’s go.”

  “Good.”

  The walk to Dunn Hall was an awkward one. John turned to speak but could not bring himself to say anything. Hank seemed as chipper as ever. John walked with his head hung. Why can’t I just say NO and drop it, he wondered. He felt an invisible hand grasp h
is being and strangle him.

  When they reached room 114, Hank took John by the arm and kept walking, pulling him along.

  “We’re not using that room anymore. That was just for day one.” Hank explained. As they turned the corner, he loosened his grip on John’s arm.

  They stopped at the elevator and went to Basement L2. That’s two levels underground. John has never been to any basement level in any of the buildings on campus. His heart raced with excitement.

  Hank watched John in amusement. John clenched his fist.

  What’s going on? he wondered. Where is this guy taking me?

  The elevator doors opened and the pair stepped out into a large hallway that went on as far as the eye could see. John stood in awe. He had never seen such a massive hallway before. Note even in his mind! It was more of a tunnel than a hallway. Hank studied John’s face intently.

  “Ever been down here?” Hank asked already knowing the answer. He tried to put John at