From: thoth@uiuc.edu (Ben Cox)
Subject: on the bus the other day
Originator: btc30679@uxa.cso.uiuc.edu
Reply-To: thoth@uiuc.edu (Ben Cox)
Organization: University of Illinois at Urbana
Date: Thu, 23 Jul 1992 15:42:18 GMT

"Of course, they're in a tough league."

The two men were talking about the Rice Owls.  This is a subject that
I found mildly interesting, so I casually mentioned "Yeah, they lost
something like 40 games in a row, didn't they?"  I knew this because
my sister had gone to Rice from 1984-88, which is also why I was
interested in the Rice Owls.

"Yes, they did.  They suuure did." said the older man.  The younger man
just stared ahead with an apparently sightless gaze.

"Yes, my sister went there during that period.  She said even though
they invariably lost, the games were lots of fun, partially because
the band was a good crowd-pleaser."

"Of course, they're in a tough league," he repeated.  The younger man
nodded.  The older man continued, "Southwest Conference, right?  Look
at all the terrific teams in their conference."  "A bit like
Northwestern being in the Big 10," he added, to the younger man.

Since I am not really a football fan, I desired to exit the
conversation at this point.  I felt a pang of regret that I had butted
into their smalltalk in the first place.

The man continued.  "Are you a student here?"

Yes, I nodded, slightly turning away to indicate politely that he and
his younger friend should continue without me.

"He's going to be a freshman at Northwestern this fall," the older man
said.  The younger man nodded, looking at his shoes with the same
detached gaze.

"What do you study?" the man asked, in a clear attempt to draw me back
into the conversation by forcing me to speak.  "Computer engineering,"
I said, looking out the window.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a shimmer in the air between the
two men.

The younger man said, almost mechanically, "I'm going to study
computer science."  His voice disturbed me, but I could not quite
decide why.

"He's taking the regular calculus sequence now.  That should set him a
bit ahead when he gets to Northwestern."

Without knowing exactly why, I felt compelled to reply.  "Yes, I think
that will be good for you," I said to the younger man, "I also took
the calculus sequence before entrance and it helped me."  I found the
sound of my own voice disturbing, much as I had found his voice
before.  The words came out almost as if they had their own agenda; I
had no conscious choice in the matter.

Again, from the corner of my eye, I saw a distortion in the air
between the men.  The younger man spoke again, but I was too disturbed
to notice what he had said.

Suddenly I grasped the connection.  The air had shimmered, the younger
man had spoken.  The air had shimmered, he had spoken again.  Now
knowing what to look for, I paid much closer attention to the air in
the bus than the tangible objects therein.

The air wobbled again, and a disembodied voice began to speak.  "Well,
I actually took the classes elsewhere, so I can't say how the
professors were here.  Who do you have?"

With a sudden shock, I realized that the voice had been my own, and I
had answered his question without even having heard it.  I sank in my
seat, mind racing.

The voice of the younger man said, "I have Prof. Sharp.  Do you know
who is good to have?"

My stop came.  I wanted desperately to press the yellow tape to get
off the bus, but I just couldn't decide to do it.  I started to get
the bus driver's attention to ask him to let me off, but I found I
could not speak.

The older man looked expectantly at me, as if through a mirage, as I
said, "I had Tony Peressini for D.E.  He was excellent."

Our stop came.  We shuffled off the bus, older man in the lead.  We
walked across the Quad to the Union, chatting amongst ourselves when
people passed us, remaining otherwise silent.  I desperately wanted to
leave, but I could not bring myself to do it.

We chose a table in the cafeteria with three extra empty seats.  A
student who was obviously by himself wandered by.  It became slowly
obvious to me that he was an ardent baseball fan, but the information
seemed to come from the older man.  My eyes could not quite focus on
him, almost as if I could see through him.

We slid into a conversation about baseball, the three of us as one,
the older man directing the conversation, our automatic participation
guaranteed.

We managed to be just loud enough to catch the student's attention as
he passed our table.  "Mind if I join you?"

"Certainly not," I said slowly, with an almost-unnoticeable shimmer in
the air about my head.  I wanted to warn him away, but could not.  In
a few moments, we three would become four.

--
Ben Cox
thoth@uiuc.edu