The Year's Best Science Fiction 11

THOSE WHO CAN, DO BOB KUROSAKA

The semester began in its traditionally chaotic manner. Class cards were lost; students wandered aimlessly through the lecture hall. An occasional oh punctuated my lecture, followed by the fumbling exit of a blushing student, suddenly realizing the course is Differential Equations, not Introduction to Philosophy.

After announcing the required texts and papers, I asked the usual “Are there any questions?” If there were none, I could catch the 11:20 bus to Weavertown; there would be time for a short round of golf.

A student rose and jammed his hands into his back pockets. “Professor, why do we have to take this course?”

An uneasy murmur rose from the class, a nervous shuffling of feet.

“What is your name, young man?” I asked.

“Barone, sir. Frank Barone.”

“Well, Mr. Barone, the University requires that all those majoring in Mathematics complete a minimum of . . .”

“I know that!” he interrupted, then added quickly, “sir.”

I smiled and nodded.

“I mean,” he continued, “is there any practical use in studying totally abstract concepts? What I need is a guide to being a contributing member of society.”

I concluded that he was a refugee from Philosophy, but his deep voice and confident manner had enchanted the class. The other students were awaiting my answer. I cleared my throat.

“Mr. Barone,” I began, “what do you want from the University?”

“I’m not sure, sir. I thought two years of college would help me decide on a career, but it hasn’t. You see, I don’t have to work for a living.”

He said it as simply as you or I would say, “I’m having trouble with my teeth.”

“And how will you obtain the essentials of life, Mr. Barone?”

“Well, sir, I have a ... a gift.”

“Indeed,” I chuckled. “The Midas Touch, perhaps?”

I immediately regretted my sarcasm. Barone’s face turned red. He had confessed a matter of great personal importance and I had ridiculed him.

“Better than that, professor!” he called. “Watch!”

Barone raised a hand and pointed at me. My lectern rose silently and hovered above my head. I heard a gasp. I turned in time to see Barone gesturing at a shapely coed. She was trying to cover her nakedness with her notebook.

“Mr. Barone!” I shouted. “That will be enough!”

“Not yet, professor!”

He waved and clutched as if catching a butterfly. When he opened his hands, a swarm of bats flew out, careening wildly about the lecture hall. Coeds screamed and dove under their chairs.

Barone had to be stopped. I took a deep breath and shouted, “Stop!”

The room hushed suddenly; everyone froze. Only the whispering flight of the bats and the naked girl’s whimpering broke the heavy silence. All eyes were on me, even Barone’s. This had to be good.

I pointed at the lectern and brought it down gently. A quick gesture returned the girl’s clothes.

I clasped my hands together and concentrated. I opened them and released the falcons. They swept the air clean of bats and returned to my hand, obediently vanishing.

The class was a single open mouth. It was time to break the tension.

“Are there any other questions?”

The students shook their heads numbly. Only Barone remained motionless.

“Very well. Read page three through seventeen for next time. Do all problems on page seventeen. That will be all for today.”

The class filed out quietly. Barone, the last to leave, hesitated by the rear doors of the lecture hall. He turned and looked back. We studied each other for several seconds. Then, as if making a decision, he nodded grimly. He flashed me a smile and walked out humming.

I let out my breath and gathered my notes. As I left the lecture hall, I glanced at my watch. 11:30.

Maybe I can catch the 1:15 bus.