I got up and went into the house. The sky to the east was faintly aglow. It was morning. It was okay, though, I wasn’t going to be dragging my heels at work. I was going to call in sick. My turn, screw Harold. I’ll fax my homework. I decided to shower and get some breakfast. I had forecast a long and interesting day ahead of me so I needed my energy. I watched the morning news until an appropriate time to make some calls. After the news was over I dialed my office, trying my best to sound miserable, and called in sick. I asked if Harold was in. I was told he was so I told the person (I think it was Patricia but I’m not sure) to tell Harold to look for my fax. I then called the university and asked to speak with Bill… actually I asked for Dr. William Harmon, entomology building. I was put on hold and then transferred. While on hold I started faxing my documents on the other line. I got everything started when Bill came on the line.
“Bill Harmon here,” he said.
“Hey Bill,” I said excitedly, “I need to come see you today.”
“Mac!” he replied, “Is this you? What’s up?”
“I found something in my garden last night that I simply have to show you,” I told him.
He wanted to know more, but it’s a long story I told him so we ended the call. I said my good mornings and my good-byes, and left the house before anyone got wise to the fact I was wearing jeans and a tee shirt instead of one of my summer suits I usually wear to work. I hopped in the car, started it, and backed out of the driveway and then proceeded to the end of the street. Normally I take a left. This time I took a right. Upstate. Towards the university some eighty miles away. I stopped for coffee and made my way through traffic and onto the highway. The drive took about an hour-and-a-half. I took it easy on the roads; last thing I wanted was to get a speeding ticket while home sick in bed. If anyone found out I’d have a tough time explaining it away — and on more than one level what with the bizarre reason behind my lie.
I pulled into the parking lot outside the entomology building. I got out of my car and headed inside. I mounted the stairs, made my way to Bill’s office on the second floor, and stepped inside without knocking. Bill was a friend from my high school days, we got a long great, and he was not at all put out by this sort of intrusion. In fact he bounded around his desk and grasped my hand. We shook with hands up, then hands down, then we pounded each othe’s fists. Twenty years ago our actions would have been pretty normal. Now, though, we looked a little silly, but boys will be boys.
“Mac,” Bill asked. “How the hell have you been?”
“Good,” I replied. “And you?”
“Good, good, things are great in fact. So what is it you called about? I’ve been dying of curiosity all morning.”
“Well, Bill,” I said. “I found these little flecks in the garden this morning and I want you to look at them and tell me what you see.”
“What do you think they are?” he asked.
“I don’t want to say just yet. I don’t want sound crazy. Just look.”
The doctor laughed and without further words took the contact lens case I handed to him. He placed it on his desk, grabbed a hand lens off his desk, and opened the case to inspect the contents. Immediately he looked puzzled. He looked up at me then back at the sample. Abruptly he got up, looked at me holding up his index finger as if to say wait a minute, and left the room without saying a word. Moments later he returned with powerful-looking a stereoscope — the kind with two eye pieces instead of one. He set it down on his desk, fumbled with the cord, plugged it in and placed the contact lens case on the scope’s staging area. He then peered into the eyepieces and tweaked the controls to bring the subject into focus. I watched him carefully, hoping to gauge his reaction to what he was seeing. He seemed to look into the thing for quite some time, turning the contact lens case back and forth. He continued to fiddle with the controls as he sort of mumbled mild expletives to himself.
“So?” I asked. “What are they?”
Bill didn’t answer but he did look up. One eyebrow was arched high — Bill had a seriously puzzled look on his face. Then as quickly as he raised his head he again lowered it and stared at his subject. Now, without looking up, still fiddling with controls, he addressed me.
“Flyers.” he said in a tone that sounded confident and yet completely unsure all at the same time.
“Uh huh,” I replied knowing what he was seeing.
“Bug World,” he said.
“What?!” I asked.
“Bug World,” he repeated.
“Bug World?” I asked with even greater puzzlement.
Bill finally looked up at me. Much to my frustration, instead of telling me more, Bill asked me to tell him anything that I could remember about my find and the events that led me to it.
“But, Bill…” I started in protest. But he sat there, eyebrow still arched, and asked me again to tell him everything. I sighed, then finally sat down in one of his creaky leather chairs and told him what he wanted to know beginning with the “pop” I heard the other night.
Bill sat there. He listened intently, nodded a lot, had one moment of what looked like clarity of understanding, but it was fleeting, and then my story came to an end. Bill sat there for a moment (always a joker in school, I started thinking he was making me squirm on purpose), then he spoke.
“Mac, I understand why you brought this in. I know what I’m seeing in the ’scope. I don’t believe what I’m seeing, yet I am seeing it. It’s undeniable. The smudged colors you saw,” he continued, “are text.”
“Text?!” I asked, my voice pitched higher than normal.
“Bug World–” he began.
“You said that before!” I interrupted.
“Stop, Mac, please listen for a moment. The little flecks I have here under my microscope are tiny flyers just as they appear to be. You’re not crazy. In that scope, as powerful as it is, I was not only able to see that they are clearly tiny flyers, but I can also read them. Some of the text I can’t really make out, I’ll need more powerful equipment and plan to take them, with your permission, to the microscopy lab for further study. What I can make out, though, is nothing short of revolutionary. Flyers is the wrong word, actually. They appear to be show programs. The headline says ‘Bug World’ and it is followed by a line that says ‘The Greatest Show on Earth,’ and that is followed by a website address, some dates and times and other text. It gets a bit obscure. Plus I don’t want be wrong about what I could be seeing.”
Bill stopped with that. I just sat there for a moment dumbfounded and silent. I finally looked over at Bill and asked, “The Greatest Show on Earth?”
Bill didn’t respond. No response was necessary.
“This is like some sort of carnival or something?” I asked.
“Circus, maybe,” Bill replied.
I laughed.”Circus!” I repeated.
“Yeah,” he said and begin to laugh a little himself as he got up.”Hey, do you want to come with me to the microscopy lab?”
He barely finished his question and I was already standing up, ready to go. “Let’s do it,” I said.
We walked across the campus green toward the microscopy lab. He entered the front door and took a left towards the end of a long hall. The last room contained several massive electron scanning microscopes. We opened the door and entered the room. Inside a pretty woman with a white lab coat greeted us. She knew and admired Dr. Harmon so squeezing in ’scope time between projects was not a problem (normally there is a waiting list as ’scope time is in high demand). Bill introduced us, the woman’s name was Marcy I was told as she led us to a unit not in use on the other side of the room. She assisted Bill with the sample preparation — a rather involved process — and placed the prepared sample in the unit’s staging area.
She asked Bill if she wanted to focus the object but Bill replied quickly with a “thank you but that’s okay.”
“What is it?” she asked.
“Not quite sure yet,” Bill replied quickly but said nothing more.
Marcy said, “Oh.”
She seemed mildly put out and excused herself telling us to call if we needed anything. Bill looked a bit saddened but just looked at me and shrugged his shoulders. I understood completely.
