"What even is perpetual motion?" Rachel asked as she and Calvin walked down an aisle made up of tables at a local college. This was the yearly science fair for anyone in the community to be involved in, and it was something that, for a long time, Calvin himself had been a part of. Nowadays, he simply liked to walk along and look at all the various entries from people in the neighborhood or attending the college.
Rachel continued, asking, "I mean, it has an extremely specific name, is it exactly what it sounds like? Or is it one of those deceptive names where they make it sound simplistic, but then when you read into it, learn about it, it's actually incredibly obtuse and complex, like most science?" "Is most science obtuse and complex to you?" Calvin asked as they stopped at a table and Calvin looked at something. "I mean, it wasn't my strongest subject in school," Rachel said, shrugging, making Calvin chuckle. "Well, simply put, it's the motion of bodies that continues forever in an unperturbed system," Calvin said, "though in actuality, the idea of a machine based on this theory is impossible. People have theorized that they could make a machine that could do work infinitely without an external energy source, but this straight up violates the first and possibly second law of thermodynamics." "Okay, look, if you're not going to respond to me like an ordinary human being, you can just tell me," Rachel said, folding her arms, smirking. "Calvin?" a voice from behind asked, causing them both to turn and face an older looking man in a sweatervest with a long sleeved shirt beneath, ash colored slacks and loafers, short black hair and a pencil mustache. He was standing there with a clipboard, smiling. "Uh...yes?" Calvin asked. "It's...it's me, Mr. Wattson," the man said, "Leonard Wattson, I...I taught science over at the high school, you were in my class?" "Mr. Wattson!" Calvin said, grinning, shaking his hand firmly, excitedly, "oh my god, what...what are you doing back in town? I heard you'd moved!" "Yeah, well, sometimes it's fun to come home," Mr. Wattson said, "I've been teaching here for a few months now, just to supplement my income in addition to my retirement funds, pension and whatnot. Still interested in science I see?" "Absolutely," Calvin said. "And what about you? You interested in science too?" Mr. Wattson asked, politely looking at Rachel with a warm smile. "Nah," Rachel replied, "I kinda have this weird crazy urge to have a social life." With that, Rachel continued on her way, while Calvin and Mr. Wattson watched her go. Mr. Wattson looked at Calvin, who just shrugged. "We're not close," Calvin said. *** Wyatt and Mona were sitting in a small diner, having their usual weekend waffle feast. Every Sunday, Wyatt took Mona to a diner nearby and they each got a bottomless stack of waffles, then tried to see who would get tired of eating first. Wyatt was still in his first, but nearing the bottom of the plate, while Mona was already starting her third. The appetite on this kid, he swore, she was insatiable. "Dad?" Mona asked after swallowing what she had in her mouth, "I need new shoes." "You couldn't have told me this the day before you went back to school?" Wyatt asked. "Well, I forgot," she said. "Alright, we'll go get some shoes after breakfast," Wyatt said. As they ate, they heard the bell over the diner door ring, but Wyatt didn't think anything of it until he looked up and noticed Rachel standing by the table. She looked down and smiled, waving at Mona, who waved gleefully back at her, before Rachel scooted into the booth next to Mona and picked up the coffee mug in front of Wyatt, sipping it. "That's mine!" Wyatt said. "I'll pay for your breakfast," Rachel said, continuing to drink from it, before making a face and asking, "god, do you load this up with sugar?" "I like my sweets," Wyatt said, "why, how do you drink your coffee?" "Black, obviously," Rachel said, "like a real adult." "Yeah? You smoke cigars in a trenchcoat while drinking that?" Wyatt asked, making her laugh. "Is coffee good?" Mona asked, looking from her father, then to Rachel. "Well," Rachel said, "not for children. It's better for adults. See, when you get older, you lose all the ability to have energy, because by the time you're our age, your bones and your muscles have given up completely and now you need all the help you can get. Enjoy your youth while you can, because before you know it, you won't even be able to get out of bed without the help of a walker." "You could've just lied to me," Mona said quietly, making the adults laugh. "So," Wyatt asked, stuffing waffle into his mouth from the end of his fork, "what are you doing here anyway?" "Eh, Sun's spending the weekend with her folks, so I'm just putzing about, seeing what's going on with everyone," Rachel replied, "went to this little science thing with Calvin earlier at the college, but I'm not that interested in science. One of his teachers from high school works there now, I guess, so that was awkward. What are your plans?" "Well, after waffle wednesday-" "It's Sunday," Rachel said, interrupting. "Yeah but that's not alliterative and therefore it sounds stupid, so, after Waffle Wednesday, we're going to go to the mall and get Mona some new shoes for school, and then, who knows, the day is open with possibilities," Wyatt said, "why, you wanna come?" "Can you come?" Mona asked excitedly. Ever since Rachel and Scarlett had started doing painting together, and thus Rachel had begun teaching Mona how to channel her feelings through painting as well, she had become extremely attached to Rachel, something everyone, Rachel especially, found incredibly endearing. Rachel looked at Wyatt, who just shrugged, before she looked back at Mona and agreed to tag along on their little weekend excursion. Better than spending her time at a science fair, she figured. *** "I heard about your family," Mr. Wattson said, shaking his head, "I am so so sorry, Calvin." He and Calvin had found a small table in the cafeteria and had gotten some food and seated themselves there for a bit. Mr. Wattson was here to judge, so he did have to eventually get back to work, but he figured he could take some time off for his favorite former student. Calvin just bit into the sandwich he'd gotten from the vending machine and shrugged. "I mean, these things happen," Calvin said. "Well, sure, but that doesn't make it easier or any more fair. Either way, you don't deserve to live with that pain," Mr. Wattson said, adjusting his tie, "how have you been since that happened? I hear you're living with your folks." "Yeah," Calvin said, "living at home, doing science projects in my dads shed." "Where's your sister? She was always entertaining," Mr. Wattson asked, chuckling. "...she doesn't live here anymore," Calvin said, "let's just leave it at that. I was going to group meetings for a while, ya know, like a grief support group, someplace downtown...but that only made me feel even worse. I've learned how to cope on my own. It is what it is. Nothing I can do to change it. Besides, Grudin got what he deserved." Mr. Wattson's eyes widened at the name of Grudin. "Grudin? Robert Grudin? The...he was the politician that was blown up a few months back, right?" Mr. Wattson asked. "I shouldn't have said that. What happened was awful, but still, a small part of me can't help but feel vindicated when the guy who killed my family, even if by accident, was killed himself. Shows there's some level of karmic justice in the world," Calvin said, chewing while Mr. Wattson took a long sip from his thermos. "Understandable," Mr. Wattson said, "do you know anything about the guy who did it?" "Oliver Brighton? Other than he went to school with us, not really," Calvin said, shrugging, hoping he sounded sincere, "I know that he killed his family after he was fired, and he blamed Grudin for his firing. I mean, everyone knows Grudin was so into big business that if big business was a person he'd have slept with it. It's no secret he was planning on doing major restructuring of the cities remaining parks, outright shutting a lot of them down." "Environmental assassin," Mr. Wattson said, chewing his lip, "so you think Brighton blamed Grudin, was fired, arranged for Grudins death, then offed himself and his family as a follow up? That's...that's some sick, heavy shit, not gonna lie." "Well, like I said, I'm not invested or anything, but I am glad to know the man who took my life from me is also rotting underground," Calvin said, making Mr. Wattson nod, chuckling. "Sometimes it's important to be just a little nasty," Mr. Wattson replied, "it helps ease the pain. Doesn't make a lot of sense though, does it? I mean, I taught Brighton, he wasn't - unlike his name implied - the brightest kid when it came to science. How could he build a bomb by himself? I mean, I know the internet is chock full of guides, and you can find books on the subject, but I have to imagine he had some sort of accomplice." "I personally couldn't imagine standing to work with him," Calvin said, "nobody wanted to be his lab partner in school, why would they now?" Mr. Wattson nodded, stroking his mustache. Calvin raised a good point. Maybe all this time he'd spent here had been for naught. Maybe he was wrong in thinking Brighton had been framed. Maybe Brighton really had killed Robert Grudin, and maybe that was that. Besides, no charges had been brought forward since his death, and there hadn't even really been an investigation as far as Mr. Wattson could tell. He broke his train of thought and looked back at Calvin, smiling again. "You know Calvin," he said, "I'm running a small get together every week here at the college, it's for locals interested in science. You should come on by! It's on Friday nights, and it's always a great time. I think you'd fit in just fine!" "I appreciate that," Calvin said, "I really do. I don't have much of a social life these days." Well, that wasn't true. It's just that the social life he had...he couldn't really talk about, considering what they'd done. *** Rachel was admiring a pair of tall, black spiked heels, while Mona tried on her third pair of shoes at a nearby bench. Rachel felt Wyatt suddenly walk up beside her, looking at the shoe with her as she stuffed it back into the box. Wyatt shook his head, which made Rachel curious. "What?" she asked. "Would've looked good on you," he said, "maybe I'll get 'em for Scarlett. She loves shoes like that." "I don't think I really have the legs to pull of stuff like that," Rachel said. "Well, we can't all dress like lesbian gym teachers," Wyatt said, making her laugh as she hit him in the chest lightly; he continued, "honestly, heels hurt. I know, I wore a pair of Scarlett's heels once for...well, I actually don't think this is an appropriate place to discuss it, but they hurt." "I prefer comfort, you know?" Rachel asked, picking up another box and pulling the lid off, "Mona would understand." Mona did, in fact, understand. For Mona to buy a new pair of shoes, they had to not be too snug, but not too lose, and she couldn't have laces, so they had to be either slip ons or velcro, and she often didn't like the sound of velcro, so that was usually out. They also couldn't feel tighter while wearing socks. Ever since her diagnosis, Mona had become increasingly in tune with her sensory, which Wyatt thankfully helped her navigate. "Well, I didn't actually come by to shop for shoes," Rachel said quietly, "I actually came to talk to you about Calvin. He's...he's holding it together pretty well, but you can tell he feels guilty. I'm starting to worry about his ability to keep everything under wraps. We should have a...contingency plan." "...are you suggesting-" "I'm not suggesting anything in particular other than we come up with some sort of fallback, just on the offchance, which likely won't happen anyway but it doesn't hurt to be prepared, that Calvin snaps at some point," Rachel said, pushing some of her hair from her eyes and back behind her ear, adding, "that's all I'm saying." Wyatt glanced back over his shoulder at his daughter, then sighed and looked back at Rachel. "So what do you suggest then? I mean, we can't-" "Again, not suggesting anything in particular, just putting forth the notion that it might be a good idea to keep tabs on him and come up with a contingency plan of some kind," Rachel said, "right now he seems okay, but he's talked to me on a few occasions about how he's felt ever since it happened, and...he doesn't sound good, Wyatt." "Well, I'll talk to him," Wyatt said, "don't worry, nothing will come of it." "Dad! I hate shoes! Shoes are the worst!" Mona shouted from behind them. *** Mr. Wattson entered his apartment and sighed, pulling his sweatervest off over his head and placing it gently on the back of a chair before heading over to the landline phone hanging on the wall of his kitchenette. He picked it up and dialed, then stood against the wall, tapping his foot on the floor until someone finally answered. "Is this Brian?" Mr. Wattson asked, "it's Leonard. I have nothing of note to say, just phoning to say hi, and see how things are holding up over there. You think it's....yeah? Yeah, okay. I was wondering when we could start up production again. Definitely, some of the girls in my class have little sisters, and I bet I could entice them to be interested for the right price. Alright, well, I'll do some scouting and get back to you." Mr. Wattson hung up and sighed. He pulled his glasses off his face and wiped them on a hankerchief he kept in his pocket, then slid them back up his nose. He put his hands in his pockets and walked over to his closet in the hall. He slid open the door, pulled out a suitcase, and pulled out a disc. He walked over to his desktop computer, inserted the disk and opened it on the screen, where he was flooded with a litany of images and videos, all of which Brighton had created for him. What did Brighton get himself involved in? How could this have happened? He'd helped Mr. Wattson create an empire of filth, and now his best working man was gone, and all because of a feud with a local politician? Leonard wanted to scream, but he knew being angry would get him nowhere. He just would have to shut down Brighton's operation, take his work from wherever he'd hidden it, and leave town as quickly as possible. He thought about Calvin, how Calvin might be willing to help him. Calvin seemed unconcerned with Grudin's death, and unconnected to Brighton, so perhaps he might be the right person to help him find out where Brighton had stashed his work. He'd think about it more in the morning over breakfast. Leonard shut his computer down, stood up and headed to his bedroom. He put his glasses on the side table, then put on his pajamas and climbed into bed. He'd have to hire someone new, someone he could trust, to eventually replace Brighton. Someone with just as low morals as Brighton himself had had. Leonard Wattson had a lot of work ahead of him, and he wasn't happy about it. At least he had his day job to keep him occupied. After all, they say the satisfaction more than makes up for the lousy pay of teaching.
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A group of former high school classmates reunite at their 10 year reunion, and discover they each want something different, many with someone else there. What ensues is a labyrinthian relationship amongst them involving crime, murder, romance and, in one particular case, terrorism. Archives
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