The Veritas Conflict (19 page)

Mansfield took the pages from Ian’s hand and scanned them. “Hmm, yes.” He used a highlighter to mark off a few passages. “Okay, there are some good objective criteria here. Mark this page for copying, and put it in my briefing book And put the syllabus materials on my list; there are probably a half-dozen classes in philosophy and psychology and sociology that use those same materials rather than more neutral ones when they get to the abortion debate. Let’s find those. That’s a glaring case of philosophical inconsistency that needs to be addressed.

“And also,” Mansfield pursed his lips, tapping the highlighter rapidly against the table, “find me several fair-minded examples of where a class subject may have tended to lean one direction, but where the professor himself was fair-minded and objective about purposefully
eliminating
bias of any kind. I know there are plenty like that. If we give credit where credit is due, they’ll be more likely to take our criticisms seriously.”

“Good point.” Ian made a note, then turned to the next
course on the list.

The sky began to darken, and the streetlights had come on before the two men were ready to call it a day. The restaurant was beginning to fill up again as they gathered their papers and books. Their server—a business school student they recognized from the Graduate Christian Fellowship meetings—came by to clear off the table.

They thanked her profusely, and she accepted Mansfield’s customary large tip with a smile. She didn’t know what their project was, but she was always willing to allow them to sit at that booth for hours, keep her mouth shut about anything she overheard, and seat other patrons out of hearing distance if she could. To them, she was worth her weight in gold.

Ian rode away through the dusky streets smiling to himself. Just a few more weeks. They were almost ready. He couldn’t wait to see Professor Anton Pike’s reaction.

SEVENTEEN

“N
O
, I’
M SORRY
. I
TOLD YOU
.” The receptionist on the third floor of Emerson heaved an exaggerated sigh and pushed her reading glasses atop her head. It was barely nine-fifteen on Monday morning, and the week was already starting out lousy. This was the fourth student through her doors this morning asking the same stupid question.

The young man in front of her started to say something, and she held up her hand. “Professor Kwong’s Philosophy of Ethics class has been full since the first day of registration. I’m sure you know that it’s one of the most popular classes.”

The student broke in, smiling at her. “Yes, I understand that. What I’m wondering is, would he be willing to at least put me on a waiting list in case someone drops the class?”

“Sorry. The professor doesn’t do waiting lists.”

“Well, could I at least call back in—”

“Look, young man. I’m sure no one is going to drop this class.” She turned back to her computer. “I know you’re probably used to getting your own way, but you’ll just have to take no for an answer this time.”

She shook her head as the student dropped the pleasant facade and stormed out. How rude young people were these days!

Just outside the building, two warriors flashed signals to each other across Harvard Yard. Etàn followed a tall male student who was steering a blue bicycle off of Massachusetts Avenue and through Johnston Gate. Metras tracked with a young woman who was just leaving her dorm, bundled up in a fluffy red scarf against the blustery morning. Both were heading toward Emerson.

Etàn grabbed up a good-sized tree branch and skated it across the path like a stone across a lake. It skidded against the bicycle, entangling itself in the back tires.

The student uttered a short sound of frustration and hopped off his bike to clear away the debris. This was his second delay of the morning.

The angel quickly rose above the trees and scanned another section of campus. Where
were
they?

A hundred yards away the other student hurried along the walkway, her red scarf pressed against her nose. Metras moved in front of her, subtly clearing her a path, speeding her along. A movement caught his eye. Uh-oh.

Another female student was coming the other direction on a nearby walkway and saw her friend in the red scarf. She slowed a bit and called good morning, trying to catch the girl’s attention, wanting to stop and chat.

Metras held up a shimmering wing. The bundled-up girl walked right past, never seeing her friend.

He continued to move her swiftly along, casting glances back at his comrade. The timing was going to be tight, and Gael wasn’t in sight yet.

A few minutes later, red-scarf was inside Emerson and heading up to the third floor. The bicycle student had seen a female friend coming his way and had detoured to flirt with her. The two colleagues were starting to get nervous when Gael finally swooped up.

“We’re moving. It’ll be less than five minutes.”

“What took so long?” Etàn kept a wary eye on his charge as Metras watched red-scarf’s progress through the building walls.

“She stopped to get breakfast in the cafeteria after biology class. I tried to stir her, but one of our adversaries got her chatting with a young man in line.” He smiled gently “She wasn’t listening very well. But thankfully she’s coming now.”

“Five minutes.” Etàn started to turn back to the male student, then stopped. “Gael, my friend, do you think our adversaries know of the plan?”

“No, I don’t think so. Just making mischief as usual. That was one of the holdups; I couldn’t look too eager, or we would have been followed.”

The other angels nodded knowingly as they went their separate ways. Such machinations were all too common.

On the third floor of Emerson, the receptionist watched another student come in and groaned to herself.

The girl unwrapped several layers of red scarf from around her neck and smiled at her. “It’s cold outside!”

The receptionist kept typing and didn’t respond. The girl approached her counter.

“I’m sorry to bother you. Is this Professor Kwong’s department? I need to drop his Philosophy of Ethics class.”

The receptionist looked up in surprise. “Certainly. Fill this out.” She passed a form over the counter, smiling inwardly. That rude young man had been five minutes too early. Whoever walked in next would win the lottery.

Outside, Etàn saw Gael approaching at treetop level, his eyes on Claire. She was only a few feet from Emerson when the bicycle student waved good-bye to his friend and pedaled the last short distance to the bike rack in front of the building. He hopped off his bike and pulled a locking chain partially out of his backpack.

Etàn sped over and tapped on the backpack. It slipped out of the students hands and fell to the ground.

The student reached down, grabbed the bike chain, and started to wrap it around the bike rack and his front tire.

Etàn pulled out his sword. He flipped the links this way and that way; everywhere but where the student wanted them to go. The chain got tangled, and the students hands got cold as he tried to extricate the links and start over again. He poked his thumb on a sharp edge and started muttering to himself.

The student took a deep breath, trying to calm down. This had been one incredibly frustrating morning. He glanced at his watch, irritated. At this rate, he would barely have time to add the stupid philosophy course before he had to make his first class of the day.

Gael spoke forcefully to Claire, and she sped up a Little, quickly reaching the heavy doors. She paused at the base of a stairway, trying to remember what office to go to, and reached for the zipper on her backpack.

No time!
Gael put a large hand on her back, pushing her toward the stairs.
Third floor, suite 300. Hurry
.

She released the zipper and began bounding up the stairs, suddenly remembering.

Outside, the bicycle student had succeeded in wrapping his chain where he wanted it and was fumbling through his backpack for the lock. Where
was
that stupid thing? He could hear it clanking, but the papers and books in his backpack kept shifting and hiding it.

He set his backpack on the bicycle seat and jerked open the zippers on both sides, opening it all the way. He steadied the books and papers so they didn’t fall out, looking in every corner. Where was that lock? Did he somehow not put it in the backpack this morning?
Great, just great
.

Slamming the pack down, he finally noticed a glint of steel by his foot. How’d it get down there? He grabbed the lock and snapped it onto the chain.

Gael, hovering at the third-floor level, looked down until he saw Etàn’s final signal. Gael nodded and ducked back inside the building’s walls. He was just in time to see the red-scarfed girl leave the office and walk away down the hall. He clapped Metras on the back in thanks.

A moment later, they both smiled in relief as they heard soft footsteps on the stairs behind them.

Claire reached suite 300 and pushed open the door. She was out of breath from climbing the stairs so quickly. Why was she in such a hurry, anyway?

A bell clanged quietly, and she approached the counter that separated the entrance area from the offices of the department. A stern-looking woman was typing busily on a computer. Claire noticed her glance at a nearby clock.

“Grand Central Station, can I help you?” She spoke without looking up.

Claire looked around. Was she talking to her? “Excuse me?”

The receptionist turned and faced her. “It’s been a busy morning. Let me guess. You’re here to try to add Professors Kwong’s Philosophy of Ethics class.”

“Uh … yes. Is that a problem?”
O God, not after everything else. Please!

“I’ve had four other students in here in the last half hour with the same question. I’ve had to tell every single one of them the same thing: The class has been completely full since day one. It’s one of the most popular classes on campus.”

“Oh no.” Claire found herself close to tears. She looked down at her feet, trying to maintain her composure.

“But you appear to be in luck, young lady. Another student came in here not one minute ago and dropped the class. So there is now room for you.” She abruptly handed a short form across the counter. “Fill this out, and you’re all set.”

Claire filled in the required spaces and handed it back, a wide grin breaking out on her face. “Thank you, ma am! Thank you so much.”

The stern-faced woman nodded briefly.

Behind Claire a bell tingled and she turned. A tall male student walked in. He looked over Claire’s shoulder to the receptionist.

“Is this where I go to add Professor Kwong’s class?”

“Philosophy of Ethics?”

“Yes.”

“I’m sorry, young man. That course is full. The last space was just taken a few minutes ago.” She didn’t look at Claire.

“Well, that figures. It took me forever to get here and find this room. I must’ve walked by it twice without seeing it.” He shrugged, pulling the door open again. “Oh well. That’s the breaks.”

The receptionist looked at Claire as the student departed. A semblance of a smile appeared on the austere face.

“I must say, this has been an unusual morning. The fates have been kind to you today. You must have been born under a lucky star.”

EIGHTEEN

C
LUTCHING HER ADD SLIP
, C
LAIRE TOOK A DEEP, BREATH
and slipped into the philosophy classroom. She felt awkward. The class was fairly small—just thirty students—and they had been getting to know each other for the last week.

“Claire?” A stylishly dressed blond girl approached. Claire recognized her with a start.

“Jo? Right?” When Jo nodded, Claire let out a sigh of relief. “I’m just adding the class, and I’m glad to see that I know
somebody
here.”

Jo smiled and gestured toward her row. “There’s room over here. C’mon.”

While Claire settled into her seat, Jo asked, “Do you have a syllabus? Want to know where we are?”

“I’d love a thirty-second overview.”

“Easy.” Jo scanned her notes from the first three classes. “Well, much of the course is about the foundations for moral behavior in society. You know, what is right and what is wrong and how do you decide which is which—that kind of thing. Last week we read from a few different philosophers—Descartes, the Bible, St. Augustine, a few others. We read a few things from John Stuart Mill over the weekend since we’re talking about utilitarianism today.”