The door creaked open and a lean form entered the room. Ivory melodies filled the air, spinning tales of wild adventure and exotic treasure. His father was a piano virtuoso, a product of countless hours of spare time. Such skills come quite liberally to those affluent fiscally and cognitively. Shelves, bursting, rose imperceptibly in to darkness, the sole source of light being a blazing heart. He didn’t see his father much, having his own activities to attend, but he always knew he could if he so fancied – fancied a trip to the study. At least, most of the time he could.
“Hey…Dad”
“Good afternoon, son!” His father continued his piece, unabated. “Or…perhaps it is the evening. Time is so fickle.”
“I just wanted to remind you, my graduation is coming up and I…” He trailed off, sensing disinterest. His father’s face tightened. The seated patriarch threw his fingers about sporadically, rounding up the remnants of the melody, and slowly brought the piece to a close.
His father rested his eyes on the keys for a few moments before speaking. “Two months and about…” There was a quick pause to count envisioned numerals. “14 days. Am I close?”
“You…you remembered.”
“I wouldn’t be a very good history student if I couldn’t remember a few important dates.” His lips curled in to an innocuous smirk, amused by his own turn of phrase before arriving at a sudden exigency. “And that date is why I have to leave now.”
“What?”
“I’ve found something, and it requires immediate attention. I’ll need to head to the outer rim.”
“Another book?” His father’s hand, reaching for a shelved text, paused, then quickly collected the object. Placing the tome on the desk, the man exhaled.
“Yes.” A probing pair of fingers opened the tome to a searched page. Four spheres, imbedded in the book’s corners, flickered on and a hologram lit up above the pages. Images of star systems, nebulous clouds, celestial bands and grand space ports zoomed past as the narration’s perspective whizzed through the ether.
“You remember that story I used to read to you?”
“You’re not going to tell me that Captain Henry Pierce is real?”
“Of course not, that would be ludicrous!” He rolled his eyes. “No, it is the planet that is real. The only hint of modern civilization it possesses is a mangy space port, but…” His father’s eyes widened and began to show that devious twinkle of obsession. “But its lands did once house an ancient civilization, millennia ahead of their time. Truly fascinating! And this book! Oh, yes! You see it-”
“Yes, yes. I understand.” He turned back toward the door.
“I know you don’t like what I do but-”
“That’s because ‘what you do’ isn’t even a job! You just leave for weeks at a time chasing comets and shadows!” He audibly sighed. “Maybe if you spent some time…” He trailed off again. “I’ll see you later, Dad”
He could hear him stand up and rummage around, but he counted stand to look back. He closed the door with a deep breath. It took a great fit of will not to succumb to catharsis. He didn’t consciously mind his father’s periodic absence, but his father’s undying zeal toward the sciences didn’t seem to leave much fervor for his accomplishments.
An unhappy lethargy followed him back to his room. As he passed through the entranceway, he gathered a textbook from the top of this stack as he trudged to his bed, though he held no intention to open it. For a time, he merely sat, staring at whatever small feature proved distracting, thinking slowly, mostly of subjects fleeting, some of his father, until, at length, he crept to horizontal, a state he was only fully aware of long after its onset.
"Knock knock.” His mother casually strolled up to his bedside, resting silently at the foot without disturbing even the slightest fold of the covers. “The wearied pose is quite artistic. Are you modeling Venus or the first law of thermodynamics?” She held up the unattended Chemistry textbook.
“He’s leaving again. Pretty soon, apparently.”
“It doesn’t usually bother you. What’s up?”
“I just wish he would take interest. See what I’ve done. See what I can do.”
“He does care, sweetie. He just can’t always show it.”
“And I suppose he can just blame his travel?”
“It doesn’t help, no.”
There was a pause. He pressed his hands to his face, groaning with dissatisfaction. “Stupid escapades! Foolish, child-like follies the lot of them! I hate them!”
“Don’t judge a book by its cover, Pierce”
“And what do you know?”
“Nothing that will change your mind, but if you’re so intent on his recognition, why don’t you join him on his child-like escapade?”
He sat up, blankly transfixed on his mother. “I cannot believe you just suggested that”
“You may be our blood, but you sure don’t know how to act it.”
“You’re!...You’re serious!?”
“Of course!” She snickered. “Why do you think your father married me?”
