The Nix(169)

“Listen. We should figure out a plan. Alice said we needed to get out of town. Maybe even out of the country.”

“Yeah. I’m beginning to believe her.”

“Just for a little while. If Brown is retiring soon, why not wait him out? Make sure he knows it will be years before a trial happens. Get rid of him, get another judge.”

“Where would we go?” Faye said.

“I don’t know. Canada. Europe. Jakarta.”

“Actually, no,” she said, and she put the mug on the counter. “We can’t leave the country. I’ve been charged with terrorism. There’s no way they’ll let me on an airplane.”

“Yes. Right.”

“We’ll have to trust Simon, I guess.”

“Trust Simon. I really hope that’s not our best option.”

“What else can we do?”

“Alice said the judge will never back down. He really seriously wants to put you away forever. This is not a joke.”

“It doesn’t feel like a joke.”

“He said he’s in a wheelchair because of you. What did you do to him?”

“Nothing. I have no idea what he’s talking about. Honest.”

A rush of plumbing came from the bathroom then, and Simon emerged, little water specks dotting the arms of his sport coat.

“Professor Anderson, sir, I’m actually glad you’re here. I’ve been meaning to talk to you. About your letter? The letter to the judge that you’ve been working on tirelessly, I assume?”

“Right. Yes. What about it?”

“Well, I wanted to personally thank you, sir, for all your efforts and all the time you’ve no doubt put into this already. But you should know that we will no longer be needing your services.”

“My services. Sounds like you’re firing me.”

“Yes. The letter you’re writing? That will no longer be necessary.”

“But my mom is in pretty big trouble.”

“Oh, yes, she most certainly is, sir.”

“She needs my help.”

“She definitely does need help from somebody, sir. But probably not from you. Not anymore.”

“Why not?”

“How do I say this delicately? It’s just that I’ve become convinced, sir, that you are not in a position to help her. Probably you’d make things worse. I’m referring of course to the scandal.”

“What scandal?”

“At the university, sir. Dreadful.”

“Simon, what the hell are you talking about?”

“Oh, you haven’t seen yet? Oh, my. I’m so sorry, sir. Seems like I’m always the one to bring you bad news, eh? Haha. Perhaps if you checked your e-mail more often, or watched the local news?”

“Simon.”

“Of course, sir. Well, it looks like there’s a brand-new student organization that’s gaining some serious attention at your school. This organization’s purpose, its singular raison d’être, if you will, seems to be getting you fired.”

“Seriously?”

“They have their own website, which has been gleefully shared and circulated by your students, both current and former. You are now pretty much the textbook definition of what PR people call toxic. Hence our no longer needing you to vouch for your mother.”

“Why do my students want me fired?”

“Perhaps it would be best to look at it yourself?”

Simon removed a laptop from his briefcase and called up the website: a new student organization called S.A.F.E.—or Students Against Faculty Extravagance—arguing that university professors were wasting taxpayer money. Their evidence? One Samuel Anderson, a professor of English, who, according to the website, abused his office computer privileges:

During routine maintenance, the Computer Support Center found logs showing Professor Anderson uses his computer to play “World of Elfscape” for a frankly shocking number of hours each week. This is a completely unacceptable use of university resources.



There was also an associated letter-writing campaign that had gotten the attention of the dean, the press, and the governor’s office. Now the whole matter was being sent to the university disciplinary committee for a full hearing.

“Oh, shit,” Samuel said at the thought of explaining Elfscape to a committee of humorless gray-haired professors of philosophy and rhetoric and theology. It made him break out in an immediate sweat, justifying to his colleagues why he had a robust second life as an elven thief. Oh god.

The president of S.A.F.E. was quoted on the website as saying that students needed to be vigorous watchdogs of faculty who wasted their tuition dollars. The student’s name was, of course, Laura Pottsdam.

“Fuck this,” Samuel said, closing the laptop. He walked over to the expanse of windows on the apartment’s north wall and looked out at the jagged city.

He remembered Periwinkle’s ridiculous advice: that he should declare bankruptcy and move to Jakarta. That was actually sounding pretty good right about now. “I think it’s time to leave,” he said.

“Excuse me, sir?”

“It’s time to get on a plane and leave,” Samuel said. “Leave my job, and my life, and the whole country. Start fresh, somewhere else.”