Humanity's Last Hope



  Humanity’s Last Hope

  Kevinette H. Considine

  Copyright 2010 Kevinette H. Considine

 

  “But I am worried about your safety,” his mother said, in a voice only a concerned parent uses. “What if there’s some sort of political coup or the plane crashes or you’re kidnapped or. . .”

  “Ma,” the young man said as he got up from the kitchen table, “I‘ll be okay!” Then he walked over, wrapped his arms around her small, 5 foot body and whispered into her ear, “I’ll be home before you know it.” Releasing his hug, he turned and started walking to the back stairs.

  “Matty,” his mother called out softly, “I love you.”

  “I love you too ma!”

  With that said, he ran up the stairs to finish packing. His plane was to leave in a little over five hours. He couldn’t help thinking that if the Professor was correct; his life would be changed forever.

 

  Mathew Tenoch Harrison, Matty to his family and friends, was finishing up his third year at U Mass, Amherst. A solid 4.0 average came easily to him but he was always looking for something more challenging; certainly more than the school’s curriculum had to offer. His intellect far exceeded his fellow classmates and, though not in a cocky sort of way, he always knew he was destined for greatness. What Matty didn’t know was that destiny was right around the corner.

  It was the last week of finals and Matty was looking forward to some well-deserved time off. In order to pursue his personal interest of ancient civilizations, he had only signed up for two classes this summer. Last summer was dedicated to the many ancient cultures in Peru and this summer his intellectual energy would be spent on Mexico, particularly the Itza tribes of the Mayans and their obsession with human sacrifice.

  Leaving the biology building, Matty turned left and followed the walking path through the commons, which would bring him to the campus library. He had received a text earlier that morning, one of the books he needed for this summer’s research had finally been returned. As the cold northeast wind blasted him from behind Matty pulled up his hood and increased his pace to a slow jog.

  “Hey Matty, hey, wait up.” Turning into the wind he saw that his friend Jen was running up to him. “Mind if I walk with you? Man it’s wicked cold today.” She said shivering.

  “Sure, I’m on my way to the library.”

  “Hey, so am I.”

  Together, the two quickly walked in the direction of the library. Matty remembered he heard that there were a few new postings for research assistants,

  “Mind if we stop at the bulletin board for a sec?”

  “Sure, I’m looking for a new roommate for the summer anyway; Maggie is going back to Chicago.”

  In the center of the common stood the old wooden bulletin board, a free standing 10ft by 4ft structure, weathered by New England’s harsh and sometimes unforgiving winters. The Plexiglas panels that protected the hundreds of postings were so worn and scratched that reading anything was almost impossible without lifting up each individual panel. Jen and Matty began scanning both sides searching for prospects. Then, there, right there, between “Looking for a ride to Keene, NH” and “Lost 7 ft Boa,” was a neon yellow notice that caught Matty’s attention;

  RESEARCH ASSISTANT WANTED

  Specific qualifications required; must have successfully completed the following courses with a 4.0 average;

  Ancient Civilizations 101 and 102

  Philosophy 101

  Anthropology 101 and 102

  Applicant must have an up–to-date passport and be willing to travel in the month of December.

  If interested contact the office of Professor Hans Brekk for further information; Bldg. 214, room 126, Amherst Campus.

  Matty’s jaw dropped in disbelief. “This can’t be,” he thought to himself. Then he read the notice once again but this time he read it aloud, as if it would somehow make it more believable.

  “I don’t see anything here. Maybe I’ll have to just suck it up and pay rent myself this. . . ” Jen stopped talking and turned in the direction of her friend.

  “Matty what are you babbling about?” “Didn’t you hear me? I was telling you. . . hey you ok?”

  Lifting the Plexiglas cover, Matty ripped the notice off and started running away from the direction of the library. “I’ve got to go, I’ll call you later,” He yelled over his shoulder. Matty knew he had to get to Professor Brekk’s office before anyone else did.

  Professor Hans Brekk had the reputation of being the “odd duck” on campus. His unconventional teaching methods along with his obsession with ancient civilizations earned him a rock-star-status with the students. Most considered him a genius, and his recent publication entitled “Secrets of the American Egypt” was one of the best papers that Matty had ever read. He had never been lucky enough to get into one of the Professor’s classes, though it wasn’t from the lack of trying. The course on the Anthropology of the ancient Aztecs, relating to rituals, was always filled before it was officially posted.

  As Matty ran in the direction of building 214 his excitement was overwhelming. “This is it,” he thought to himself. “This is what I waited for my entire academic life. I just hope I’m not too late!”

  Upon arriving at the building 214, he quickly ran through the front doors and scanned the hallway for room 126. Once located, he stopped, took a deep breath, and then slowly opened the door. Directly in front of him was an elderly woman sitting at a large dark oak desk covered with folders and loose papers. She raised her head and with a tone of inconvenience, asked him what she could do for him.

  “I am here to apply for the position of research assistant.”

  “Oh, another one,” she said in a disgruntled sort of way. “Here is the application and questionnaire, fill it out completely. In other words, don’t leave anything out, understand? Then return it to me and, if I feel it deserves the Professor’s attention, I will submit it.” With that said, she handed Matty the paperwork and turned her chair as an obvious indication that he was now dismissed. Taking the papers he carefully placed them into his knapsack.

  “Hey Ma,” Matty called down from the top of the stairs, “you were born on December 21st, right?”

  “Yes honey, it’s been the same day for 54 years. Why, are you planning a party for me?”

  “Nah, I’m filling out this application for the research assistant and it has a whole lot of weird questions.” He was now walking down the stairs to the kitchen. “Like, when and where your parents and grandparents were born, their full names, what is your heritage and is your blood type AB Negative?”

  “That’s odd,” his mother responded, “you did say that Professor Brekk was sort of strange, didn’t you?”

  “Yeah, but this stuff doesn’t seem pertinent for the position.”

  “Well, he must have his reasons dear. I’m off to the store, chicken tonight for dinner.” With that his mother left.

  Six weeks had passed since Matty submitted his application to the secretary of Professor Brekk. She had made it quite clear that he was not to call the office regarding his acceptance and that all applicants would be notified one way or the other, when a decision was made. Although he still held hope that he would be chosen, he was beginning to feel that ache of rejection, something he wasn’t use to.

  Matty had just gotten out of the shower when he heard his mother calling to him.

  “Hey Matty, you better get down here, a currier just delivered a packet from Professor Brekk’s Office.”

  With towel wrapped around him, he ran down the stairs two at a time.

  “Where, let me see!” he had expected that a rejection would b
e in the form of a standard sized envelope, certainly not in a manila folder this size. “I don’t know Ma, but this just might be. . .” Then he quickly ripped open the large envelope and sat down at the table. His mother sat directly across from him. He read the cover letter out loud;

  Dear Mr. Harrison,

  Upon reviewing your application, it is a pleasure of Professor Hans Brekk to inform you that you are one of seven people considered to fill the positions of research assistants.

  The only final requirement is a submission of a blood sample for DNA analysis. An appointment has been made for you at the campus clinic on June 24th at 9:15 am.

  Please review the enclosed papers. If you find the terms acceptable sign your name on the areas indicated and return them to this office as soon as possible.

  There will be the introductory meeting, to be held in the office of the Professor at a future date. You will be notified via text.

  Respectfully,

  Harriet Belcher

  “DNA?” He thought to himself. “That’s odd.” Shrugging his shoulders, he went upstairs into his room and carefully read the papers. Then, as instructed, signed in the appropriate areas. The next day he dropped them into the door slot at the office, then anxiously waited the nine days until his appointment.

  June 24th finally arrived and Matty had his blood drawn. Two weeks to the day he received a text;

  PLEASE REPORT TO PROFESSOR BREKK’S OFFICE TOMORROW, JULY 9TH AT 2PM. PLEASE BE PROMPT.

  Matty arrived at 1:30pm.