Myron's Story -1-

2213

Myron wasn’t one for long conversations. He excused himself from dinner and left the table. Walking past the library, he made a detour to his favorite section, got a book and continued to his room.
Five minutes, he counted, before his mother knocked on the door.
“Myron?”
He didn’t reply, she’d come in anyway. She always did.
“Myron, please stop reading for just a little bit and come back to dinner.”
“Why?”
“Because this is for you! You got accepted into Yale and we invited these people here to celebrate with you.”
“No, mum, you invited your friends so that you could gloat about how good your son is.”
“How dare you say that?”
“You know it’s true.” Myron didn’t even look up from his book. Carefully turning the page he curled his lip. “Can I please read? My carriage leaves at 7 tomorrow and you know I get motion sickness.”
“Myron, you have to get used to talking to people…”
“Alright, I will. I’m going to college for a reason aren’t I?” he looked up at his mother with his bright, blue eyes. She shook her head slowly and left the room, closing the door with a snap.

***

Yale was now an enormous building made of glass and metal. Nothing like the beautiful old university Myron had read about in history books. He thanked the driver and placed his bags on the waiting hover-board.
Inside, the university looked much the same. Glass and metal. Myron sighed and headed to the main office to sign in. not many people were here yet, the semester started in a month, but Myron had refused to stay at home where his parents would drag him around to parties trying to set him up with a girlfriend.
He registered and was given his room number and swipe key. 37. Room number 37.

The university was huge. It had been extended over the years to be able to house over 6000 students. Myron knew that he’d most likely be just a number here, but he had become so used to being the “guy in the background” that it really didn’t matter to him. He was just glad that he could now study what he wanted in peace for 2 years. Then he’d come of age and inherit the house and the money that his father had willed him, and be able to live a life involving no work for the rest of his life. But he’d work anyway. Myron wasn’t one to sit around and play dumb.

He reached his room and guided the hover-board through the door. The room was spacious, enough for two people to live comfortably in: it was mostly open-plan, with a small kitchen, bathroom, two bedrooms and a balcony. The whole east wall of the room was glass. Myron stood stunned for a few moments before a voice jolted him out of his daydream.
“Myron Hamilton?”
Myron turned. The voice was of a young man of muscular build, with light reddish-brown hair and amber-colored eyes. He was standing outside one of the bedrooms.
“Yes, I guess I’m your new room-mate.”
The young man grinned and held out his hand. “Mac Webster.”
Myron smiled and took his hand. “You arrived early too then?”
“As you can see,” Mac smiled. “I wanted to get some study in before the semester started.”
Myron laughed. “I came to get away from my parents.”
“Bugging you about school work?”
Myron shook his head. “No. Girlfriend.”
“What about her?”
“They want me to get one.”
“Why don’t you?”
“’Cause I don’t want one. I want to study and be left alone.”
“Fair enough mate.” Mac crossed the room to the balcony and opened the glass doors. “Do you smoke?”
“Some. I hate it though… Do it to bug my parents.”
Mac laughed and handed Myron a cigarette. “So how’d you get in?”
“My mother. Kept annoying me ‘til I sent in an application. Got a scholarship and the rest is history.” Said Myron quietly as he lit the cigarette and exhaled. “You?”
“Almost the total opposite. I wanted to go and dad wouldn’t let me. So I applied anyway, got a brilliant scholarship and he couldn’t refuse.”
They were silent for a while, Mac leaning on the balcony railing and Myron staring quietly into space.
“So what are you studying?” asked Mac finally, sensing that Myron was not one to start conversations.
“Philosophy and theology.”
“Whoa…” Mac’s eyes widened. “I don’t understand a word of either… never liked them…”
Myron laughed and took another drag of his cigarette. “What about you?”
“Mechanical engineering and aeronautics.” replied Mac with relish. Myron’s jaw dropped.
“What in hell for?”
“To see if we can get airplanes up and running again… since solar energy is now useless…”
“But how do you understand it?”
Mac laughed for a long time. “Probably like you understand theology.”

***

2215

Myron looked up through the valleys and canyons of notes that he’d made. Mac was lying on his bed, his feet resting on the wall. His hair, which he’d let grow long for the past year, was streaming down the side of the bed like a river of lava. He was balancing a large mechanics book on the tips of his fingers and reading.
“You’re defying gravity, Mac.”
“No I’m not. I’m perfectly balanced.”
“How do you concentrate?”
“I just do. Leave me alone,”
Myron could hear the laughter in Mac’s voice. He looked down at his notes again. After a while he threw his pen down.
“When’s your exam?”
“Tomorrow. Would you shut up?”
“I’m sick of study, let’s go out.”
Mac dropped the book.
“You’re… What sorry?”
“Sick of study. Come on, you know the whole book back to front anyway.”
“I never thought I’d see the day…” said Mac dramatically as he did a backward roll off the bed to stand up. “…when Myron bloody Hamilton would be sick of study.”
“You ass…” Myron laughed. “D’you want to get out or not?”
“Sure. Where?”
“Just… out.”
Mac grinned. “I like the way you think.”

Myron never let himself get carried away enough to be blindly drunk. And after three bottles of wine between them, Mac and Myron were surprisingly calm.
“Last exam tomorrow then?”
“Yep.”
“I have another week until my theology final.”
“Lucky bastard.”
“Why?”
“Coz you can sleep in tomorrow.”
They were silent for a while. Mac automatically lit a cigarette and passed the pack to Myron without looking at him.
“You know, by the time our generation is gone, the human race will be completely wiped out.
“That’s what they said 200 years ago, Mac. We’re still here.”
Mac shook his head but didn’t reply. Eventually he stubbed out his cigarette.
“I’ll get that plane working. Somehow, I will. And when I do, I’ll take you up.”
Myron didn’t say anything. He slowly exhaled the smoke and looked into the distance.