The Feline Affair (An Incident Series Novelette) (5 page)

Measles was always bad news, but especially
if you were planning on time traveling. Bringing a disease that
contagious into a pre-vaccine world would, of course, be ethically
questionable, but that was a moot point. That is to say, History
would not have allowed Dr. Taylor to step very far from STEWie’s
basket if she traveled while contagious…and it certainly wouldn’t
have allowed her to cross paths with anyone whom she might infect
with the measles virus. Except for the minor detail here and there,
time travelers could not change History, and a measles epidemic was
definitely
not
a minor detail.

I continued: “If you can be ready by Friday
morning, I’ll save the spot for you, Dr. Mooney…assuming you can
procure Dean Sunder’s approval in time.”

“Oh, he’ll be on board. I can wander around
Oxford and get footage not only of Schrödinger but of other famous
historical figures—J. R. R. Tolkien lived just down the street, at
20 Northmoor Road. I’ll see which of my grad students wants to
go.”

“It’s this person here.” Chief Kirkland tapped the
laptop screen. “Do you know who that is?”

I did. The bearded, unruly-haired figure in
the picture was Dr. Cook, a visiting research fellow from one of
the East Coast universities. He was a big name in his field,
experimental genetics, so everyone had been pleased to learn that
he would be bestowing his presence on one of our science
departments for the summer semester. The paused video showed him
midstep, walking away from the biology fridge. He was carrying a
glass container with a blue lid in one hand and a napkin in the
other.

“That, I believe, is the spanakopita and
fries,” Chief Kirkland said. “Odd lunch combo.”

“It’s a grad student’s breakfast. And that’s
not a grad student. That’s Dr. Lloyd Cook.” I should have seen it
before—the mustached and goateed smiley face he’d left on my note
had been a self-sketch.

“Who’s he?”

“Visiting research fellow in genetics.”

Chief Kirkland jotted the name down. “Lloyd
Cook. How long has he been at St. Sunniva?”

“Since early June.”

“And his office is where exactly?”

“Let me check.” I opened the online campus
directory. “He should be listed, even if he’s here only for the
semester…Here we go. Second floor, Room 204C.”

“Two-oh-four-cee. Got it.” In a few efficient
movements, Chief Kirkland flipped his notepad and the laptop closed
and got to his feet.

“That’s it?” I said. “That’s all you
wanted?”

“I needed an identification, and Dr. Oshiro
wasn’t available.”

I pointed out that it would have been faster
to email me the photo, but he shook his head. “I didn’t want to
have to spend time emailing follow-up questions back and
forth.”

I had to admit that made some sense. Fighting
off a yawn brought on by my poor night’s sleep, I said, “If you
don’t mind me asking, do you have a pet? A cat, a dog, a
fish…?”

“That’s an odd question.”

“A matter that’s come up in the Time Travel
Engineering lab has been on my mind.”

“In that case, I admit to owning a dog.”

“Would you construct an experiment, even a
theoretical one, that might result in your dog being—theoretically,
like I said—poisoned with cyanide?”

This got his attention. “Good Lord, what
kinds of things are they up to in the TTE lab? No, I wouldn’t.”

“What if the dog didn’t belong to you but
someone else?”

“Like who?”

“A colleague, say. Or, er, a mistress.” I was
thinking of what Dr. Mooney had said about Schrödinger’s private
life. I had no idea what his own marital status was. “Also, it’s
actually not a dog but a cat.”

“Then it would depend on whether I liked the
person or not. Or their cat.”

I chuckled at that and explained as best as I
could about Dr. Schrödinger’s experiment. He listened without
interrupting my no doubt jumbled explanation. I added, “So that’s
the bet. I’ve put down my name on the
YES, CAT
side, but I
keep changing my mind and wondering if I should walk over to the
TTE lab and switch my vote.” The new information I’d received from
Dr. Mooney about Schrödinger’s living arrangements had made the
famous physicist seem more human, though perhaps less likely to
have owned a cat. From what Dr. Mooney had relayed, he didn’t sound
like a homebody. “It was quite a cruel notion for him to have
developed if he
did
have a feline companion. On the other
hand, if your job is to consider the mysteries of the universe—the
gears and springs and weights that make the whole thing tick and
shuffle along—maybe everything is fair game.”

“I’d go with your first instinct…though those
can be wrong on occasion.” He suddenly pulled back, as if
remembering that he didn’t like me very much, and said, “I better
get going. I need to have a chat with our Dr. Cook.”

“You might want to wait until Dr. Oshiro is
available,” I suggested. “There is no set protocol here, but it
could ease matters.”

“Right, thanks.”

With that he left.

“I thought it would be best if you spoke to him
alone,” Dr. Oshiro said to Chief Kirkland. “I still think that was
the right course of action, but I have to admit that I find his
response to you a little…surprising.”

“Why? What did Dr. Cook say?” I asked, having
arrived midconversation. Dean Sunder was at a late-afternoon
off-campus event. He had asked me to attend Dr. Oshiro’s meeting
with the chief in his place and report back, leaving any decisions
that had to be made with her. Chief Kirkland had his laptop open on
a small table in one corner of Dr. Oshiro’s office, where it was
streaming the incriminating footage. I took the third chair.

Chief Kirkland explained, “Dr. Cook claims
that according to his life philosophy there is no such thing as
private property. Not where life-sustaining resources like food,
heat, and water are concerned.”

“He what?” I said, not quite believing my
ears.

“He freely admits to taking other people’s
food. He says he places his own food in the shared fridge several
times a week and would be perfectly happy if someone else ate it.
In his opinion, it’s not his fault that no one has taken the
opportunity. Apparently, he also keeps his house unlocked so it’s
available to those who need a place to stay. I don’t know if anyone
has taken him up on that opportunity either.”

“To be honest, as life philosophies go I’ve
heard worse,” I said.

Dr. Oshiro wrinkled her brow. “I can’t tell
if his heart is in the right place and he’s just not seeing the
problem or what.”

“Hmm,” Chief Kirkland said, as if his opinion
fell on the
or what
side of the equation.

I was with him on that. “I can think of a
reason why he might be doing it.”

Chief Kirkland glanced over at me in some
surprise but only said, “Yes, Ms. Olsen?”

I was thinking of Schrödinger again and of
his somewhat unusual lifestyle. “Dr. Cook is a rising star in his
field, right, Dr. Oshiro?”

“That he is.”

“Maybe he’s working on acquiring a few
quirks. You know, to cement his reputation as a brilliant,
nonconventional scientist with a personality that makes for
interesting media coverage.”

Chief Kirkland looked doubtful. But Dr.
Oshiro gave a small shrug. “Could be. Personally, I don’t have time
for quirks, my own or other people’s.”

“I can charge him with petty theft,” Chief
Kirkland said. “But you don’t want me to do that, do you.”

It wasn’t a question, but Dr. Oshiro still
shook her head. “I don’t want to get embroiled in an unnecessary
philosophical standoff over three sandwiches and a salad or two. We
may just have to put up with it until he leaves. He’s here for the
summer, so we only have a few weeks to go. It’s an inconvenience no
doubt, but at least it’s an inconvenience with an expiry date.
We’ll spread the word—unofficially—that everyone should keep their
lunches at their desk until the end of the semester.”

“Perhaps we could claim the fridge is
malfunctioning and needs to be serviced,” I suggested. “It’s
probably true anyway. How long has it been there? Twenty years?
Thirty?”

A figure appeared on the taped footage on
Chief Kirkland’s screen. Based on the sad droop of the man’s
shoulders, it was Andreas, and he had just discovered his food was
missing. After checking all of the fridge shelves twice, he ended
up getting something from the vending machine. Watching the video
gave me an idea. “After Dr. Cook leaves at the end of the semester,
how about if the dean’s office organizes an unofficial get-together
for everyone in the building? To make it up to those who lost food
items. The dean’s office will supply the refreshments. I’m sure
Dean Sunder will be on board with the plan.”

Dr. Oshiro nodded her approval. “Yes, thank
you, Julia.”

After thanking Chief Kirkland for his
efforts, she moved to her computer, where work awaited. Chief
Kirkland and I took the hint.

“Well, can’t say I like how this ended,”
Chief Kirkland commented after the building doors had closed behind
us. “I hate seeing people get away with something like this.”

“Welcome to academia,” I said.

The nature of time travel was such that Dr. Mooney’s
team would be back shortly. That is to say, the few hours, perhaps
half a day, that they would need on-site in Oxford would pass much
quicker in the lab—in mere minutes. So there was no point in me
going back to my office, not really. I had almost changed my mind
at the very end and transferred my name to the
NO CAT
side,
but remembering Chief Kirkland’s words, I held off. Dr. Mooney and
two grad students—Kamal Ahmad and Abigail Tanner, both of whom I
knew slightly from various student issues that had come up—had gone
to check Schrödinger’s home for a potential cat. If needed, they
would also visit his mistress’s house to see if
she
had a
cat. Officially, their task was to attempt to get footage from one
of Schrödinger’s Oxford lectures.

I took the opportunity to take a closer look
at the mirrors and lasers that formed STEWie’s heart. The mirrors
were of all sizes, like nesting dolls, except that they were turned
every which way. I had never noticed that before. I walked over to
the whiteboard with the
YES, CAT/NO CAT
wager list, which
had gotten longer in anticipation of the trip, and wandered past it
to the nearest wall, which was plastered with a medley of photos
from previous runs. It was quite the pastiche—ancient Sumerians
rubbed photo elbows with nineteenth-century Peruvian guano
farmers.

A warm whoosh of air made me look up. Dr.
Mooney and the two grad students stepped off the platform looking
tired and hungry but triumphant. The two men were dressed in suits
appropriate for the era, and Abigail had on a pale-gray dress. Dr.
Mooney held something up in the air with a flourish. A cell phone.
“Here it is, Julia.”

“You got it? I was—we—were right, and there
was a cat?” I was ready to jump up and down with excitement.

“Abigail here managed to sneak all the way up
to the house window.”

“Mine were the only shoes that didn’t leave
noticeable footprints in the flower bed,” Abigail explained.

“Yeah,” Kamal said. “Let’s put it down to the
make of your shoes and not the fact that you’re smaller, lighter
and, er, thinner than either Dr. Mooney or me.”

“It’s all a matter of weight
distribution.”

“Don’t talk to me about weight,” said Kamal,
loosening his tie and taking in a large breath of air.

The two grad students left the lab to change,
carrying on with their friendly banter all the while. While Dr.
Mooney dealt with the more official footage, taken at Schrödinger’s
physics lecture, I took a look at Abigail’s cell phone video. It
began with a shot of a brick house on a leafy street, then narrowed
in scope as Abigail approached the first-floor window, which stood
wide open, as if the occupants wanted to let in the fresh air.