Being a Barrow - A Sequel to Barrow's Boy

The Legacies Left Behind

     "Ever since you told me about what's been happening, I've worried that the worst has happened to you. It fills me with relief just to see you on campus."

     "I don't know what to do about it, Professor. It's not like I can just kill him instead."

     "No, it most certainly is not."

     "So I'm at a loss. If I make this society known, then I have everyone who's dedicated themselves to it against me. But if I don't, I'm dead."

     "There has to be another answer. I'm sure of it."

     "I just wish it would make itself known."

     "I do as well, Barrow. But I do hope that you know that I am truly thinking this over."

     "My dad thinks my best bet is to sabotage from the inside. The issue is that I'm not quite sure how to do that."

     "You've started out well enough with your research. Perhaps you could find more, and we could discuss it? When an item is weaved as intricately as this, there is always a loose thread somewhere."

     "I don't want to die."

     "And you won't. I will not let it happen."

     The knocking on the door halted their hushed conversation, and Theodore and Dr. Woodward turned to look at it. They'd kept the door closed for clear reasons, and their voices had stayed in whispers due to their concerns. 

     Sitting in Woodward's office had been the safest situation to have the discussion. Though Woodward apologizes for the mountains of paper on his desk, which had been subsequently moved to the floor, and for the untidy array of books. Theodore did not mind in the slightest. He'd honestly felt honoured to be allowed into what seemed to be a very personal space for the man. He had a small sofa against a wall, which was accompanied by an armchair, both on a worn rug. The sofa itself had a threadbare blanket thrown across it. Had Teddy had the right to, he would have folded that up and laid it over the back of the seat as soon as he saw it. The sofa was by a small fireplace, which Woodward had joked was where he burned bad exams. Being January, it was currently lit and had been used by the doctor to heat up water for tea. Theodore's cup now sat on the desk, empty. Other than the papers and books, Woodward's desk was home to a typewriter, a collection of pens, a wooden model of the human brain, a jar containing small chocolates, of which Theodore had been already offered one, and a variety of photographs, all seemingly aged but likely taken during Woodward's lifetime. On the wall, he had hung a few diagrams, or recreations at least. A few of Da Vinci's, including Vitruvian Man and the heart, Vesalius' brain, and a series from Bourgery and Jacob's textbook - Theodore recognized them through his History of Medicine class and because Bourgery and Jacob's book had been discussed thoroughly both there and in Anatomy with Dr. Patton.

     But none of that mattered at the moment because Theodore had been having a private conversation. Which had been interrupted by a knock on the door. Woodward gave Teddy an apologetic smile, then looked up at the door.

    "Come in!"

     The door opened, and Dr. Howell's face appeared, peeking between it and the frame. Theodore knew the man only from their trip to Bellevue, but he had seemed kind enough.

     "So sorry to interrupt, David," the man said, looking at Woodward. "But I thought you'd want to know that Ratcliffe had his meeting with Livingstone today. Actually, Barrow, perhaps it's good that you're here."

     Theodore hadn't expected to be acknowledged or even recognized, so he was surprised when Howell gave him a smile and stepped into the room, closing the door behind him.