The Genesis Illusion

Chapter 2

It was after 1 p.m. when Paul finally arrived at his University area apartment on W 122nd street. He lived in a two bedroom on the fourth floor. Although he could afford to live almost anywhere, he moved here when he was completing his PhD and stayed because he enjoyed the University campus, especially the library he used obsessively.

The apartment was functional with everything he needed but visitors probably thought it was barren and the style eclectic or early I don't care. Concert posters for AC/DC, out of character for a 33-year-old professional, and Andrea Bocelli occupied two walls and numerous technical books on many subjects covered the coffee table and chairs. There was an empty vase for flowers on a shelf in the living room and the unmatched furniture included newer leather reclining chair, an old green upholstered sectional couch, and three uncomfortable looking wooden straight-back chairs.

As soon as Paul entered his apartment, he turned on the tv. I wonder if there's any news about the University explosion. Maybe I am in the TV footage? Probably not, they were just setting up when I left.

WNYC-TV News

"We have secured the crime scene and are investigating to determine the cause and find those responsible," said Lieutenant Clayton as his name displayed at the bottom of the tv screen. "Right now all we know is an explosive device ignited outside the stage door at the back of the Johnson Theater on the Columbia University campus. One person was transferred to Columbia University Medical Center for emergency treatment. There is no update on the condition of the victim."

Someone was hurt by the explosion. My god.

Frank. Answer, answer.

"Over five hundred people were in the theater attending a statistics conference hosted by the University and the UN Statistics Division at the time of the explosion," said Katherine Samson WABC reporter. "Only one person was seriously injured and needed hospital care. Where were you when you heard the blast?"

"I was at the back of the theater," Lavon Wortman said. "It was so loud it hurt."

"How about you, Sir? What did you see?"

"It was really scary when smoke started to come into the theater," said Dyrk Freidricson.

Shit, Frank answer.

"Police officials have just announced that the one victim of the Columbia University bombing has died. The victim's name is Frank Wilson, a senior statistician at the UN Statistics Division. We will interrupt programming to bring you further details when they are available. This is Katherine Samson for WNYC news."

Frank, Frank killed? This can't be happening. This must be a bad dream. Crap, you took credit for my work but I didn't want.... I wonder if McMurphy knows? I'll call her. No, she's probably not able to talk right now and I don't know if I can either. This really sucks.

Devastated and bewildered, Paul wandered around the apartment lost in its walls. Groping for something meaningful he felt isolated and alone. Pacing back and forth he searched for a direction. He realized he had no one to talk with and no one to share his shock and grief.

He needed to do something normal, something routine to bring him from his despair. When he had setbacks because others didn't understand him or when he felt humiliated by another female rejection, a hot shower snapped him out of his depression. The hot water running in the stall filled the bathroom with steam softening his body with its magical warmth. Feeling his skin when smoothing on the body cleanse focused his thoughts on this pleasant ritual. Touching his familiar blemishes, the invisible raised scar on his chin, the circle and three straight indentations on his lower back, and even the callouses on his feet drew his thoughts away from the horror of his reality. The soothing warmth removed his anxiety and replaced it with calm.

He felt somewhat better after his shower so he fixed himself a tuna salad sandwich and drank a couple beers he found in the refrigerator. Paul didn't drink a lot, but he kept a few bottles of beer for infrequent occasions when that just sounded good.

Then he found himself back in front of the TV again. Paul didn't want to see any more news but he couldn't help himself. All the stations were reporting the same information over and over.

Frank was dead.