was raising the tea cup toward my lips. The warm liquid splashed back on itself, jumping out of the cup, before resting on my face, clothes, and the edge of the desk in front of me. I put the cup down quickly and wiped my face with my gloves, the smell of tea sticking to my nostrils.
Sam stood quickly, and with unabashed sincerity asked, “Are you OK, John?”
I was fine, but I liked seeing him concerned.
“Yeah,” I replied.
He sat back down in his chair so slowly that I couldn’t tell whether or not he was actually moving. His eyes stayed fixed on mine, as he finally settled into his former position, while firmly gripping his tea cup with both hands.
“Do you really want to start this conversation by talking about the Headmaster?” I said. “Only ignorant people would buy such a farce.”
Sam twitched his head slightly sideways and froze in his seat.
“What makes you think that?” he replied, with grave concern in his voice.
As our conversation moved forward, I was trying to form an idea of what type of man I was dealing with. Depending on how well I could read my adversary, I thought, I could leave him with the impression that I wouldn’t interfere with their group, or even discuss them with anyone, as long as they ceased harassing me. On the other hand, Sam seemed so genuinely concerned for my well-being that part of me started to think that the request to see me about the conditions of the building was honest, and that for some reason he needed my advice. It came to me just then that he must have looked at my rental application and knew of my standing as a scientist. They wanted to utilize my training to either advance their cause, or maybe because they really did have some issues with the ventilation and needed the expertise of a skilled lab-man.
I was taking a risk because the Headmaster was obviously the leader of their organization and I knew that some cults took it as near blasphemy if you said anything negative about their commander. Suddenly a clever idea hatched in my mind, and I began to think that there might be a way for me to get something out of him. Maybe he had access to the building’s supply room, or would allow me to remove the signs outside the apartment. If he was an amateur at manipulating people it wouldn’t be hard for me to turn the tables on him. His old friend from the first floor may have bought his performance, but unlike him, I was about to use the charade to my advantage. Either way, after getting to know him briefly, I wasn’t all that worried about his influence. I decided to continue playing along and press him for answers.
“Sam, I thought you brought me down here to discuss the condition of the building. I’m not sure which department you work for, but you obviously know my credentials. Do you think you are the first person to try and leverage my training?”
Sam didn’t object to my assertion that they really wanted me here because of my training as a scientist, so I decided put my cards on the table.
“Let’s cut to the chase. Have you brought me here because I’m a scientist, or because you want my apartment?”
I was careful to read Sam’s reaction, and was surprised to see a sadness in his eyes that I hadn’t seen yet.
“Neither,” said Sam, with a calm voice. “We do want your opinion, not because you’re a scientist, but because you’re a person. There is a difference, John.”
For a moment he sounded like a psychiatrist, and the zig made me feel slightly unsettled.
“Listen, Sam, you seem like a friendly person. I’d like to share my thoughts on how to make this place better, if that’s what you’re after, but let’s do this civilly. First you shove magic tea in my face, then you’re talking about your prey on the first floor, and now the Headmaster—the character you use to scare children. What is this all about?”
He didn’t move a muscle, and the sadness in his eyes was now penetrating. I suddenly felt like I was being harsh with the man, and a feeling of embarrassment stirred inside me as I looked at him. I’m not sure why I didn’t notice the sorrow he carried when I first sat down with him. I had only spent a few minutes with him, but there was an amiability about him that I hadn’t expected, and it felt good to talk with someone, even though he was a stranger. I had spent considerable effort avoiding contact with other people, but Sam was somehow different. His tone was innocent, with a hint of naivety, and I was sure I had the intellectual upper hand in our encounter. I had been afraid that it would be a waste of my time to come down here, and although I suffer to admit it, the brief companionship alone seemed to be worth the trip.
“You’ve been forgetful for some time, John. Take another sip of tea, and this time focus on its lovely flavors.”
His voice suddenly carried the distinction of authority, though not enough to scare me off completely, and I reminded myself not to get to comfortable.
“We do spend a lot of time with children. We find them to be extremely reliable messengers.”
“How do you people sleep?” I snapped, involuntarily losing control of my wits. “You know your game won’t last forever, right? Power is cyclical.”
In that moment, I knew I had lost control. Sam didn’t miss a beat, but my outburst probably caused him to reveal more then he should have.
“Oppression is cyclical; power is absolute.”
As soon as Sam finished his sentence, I felt a chill go down my spine. His eyes pierced me like a javelin that has successfully hit its target on the first throw. Sam paused for moment before he said, “Do you remember who brought you to this building?”
“Brought me? I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I replied soberly.
“I see,” Sam said calmly.
He sipped his tea slowly, his arms and hands rising and falling from his lap to his mouth with precision. He was like a mechanical drone, deep in thought, while constantly oiling his parts with the flow of warm tea. I didn’t know how to explain what was happening just then, but he seemed to grow larger and larger as we sat in silence. The features on his face barely changed, other than when he licked his lips to devour the small traces of liquid that were left behind after each time he had raised and lowered the cup. His hair suddenly stood out the most, as the lightness of the gray contrasted with the grays and blacks of the rest of the room.
I had studied time for decades before meeting Sam—it was my academic area of expertise—and my work had changed the way people think about the subject. My dissertation was called Time’s Accumulating Effect—Something Gained, Nothing Lost. But even with all of my experience, never had time become so mysterious and unpredictable as it had during these fleeting moments. I felt like I was concrete, unmovable. It seemed that even if I could move, I shouldn’t, as though time had stopped for me, but Sam was fluid. It looked as though he were in motion even though he wasn’t, and that somehow I was trapped, stuck in a moment in time that Sam was outside of. His eyes grew larger and larger, and I could count the times that he would wrinkle his brow just slightly. The longer I sat there, and the closer I looked, the more I noticed the features on his face move, even in the slightest way. The tiny pores on his cheek seemed to breathe in and out, moving like the chest of a man who is sound asleep. He blinked now and then. When his eyelids closed I could hear them thunder shut with a loud echo, and then suddenly reopen with a squish. His gaze never changed, and I could hear his satisfied rumble every time he moved the tea cup away from his mouth. Even when I tried, I couldn’t see past the small features on his face, as if his face had filled the whole room and when I looked up as high as I could, I
