(PAST THREAD) ph.d. celebrations CADMUS AND IDÈS

[Idés]

JULY 2022
A typical summer evening
@Cadmus

Few things in Erast ever changed much. The streets were filled with garbage, as they usually were, just as unsafe as they had been when Idés had been a child. The black market was as it had always been and the smell of decay, the same smell of home, something that had no business being nostalgic. The bars were also the same: shady, smelled of cigarettes and fogged up with smoke, some game playing on the screen above the bar and the beaten up faces of the few locals who spend every night in places like these. People Idés didn’t doubt his dad would know – he was part of that community. Many of these people had a family, lived in poverty, had their troubles they were running from. Many of them had children. And like Idés had, most of the children of Erast would grow into young criminals: some would die like that, some would go to prison, most would never move from Erast. For Idés, though, things had changed. And he had done it, he had finished his ph.d.. and he was now officially a real professor and he was out of Erast. Or, as out of Erast as he could be. The ties weren’t severed – his family was still here, people he cared about. The man sitting in front of him, Cadmus, had been part of the EFA for four years now. Another connection to Erast that Idés couldn’t even consider parting with. It was part of him, as much as his intellect which was his supposed saving grace. He should probably be more proud of himself and his achievements. Everyone else was. Mostly, it felt terribly unfair. He had gotten lucky and had gotten out of Erast. Many wouldn’t. Idés wasn’t the only smart person in Erast. Cadmus, was an example, he was smart too. Idés wasn’t better or more deserving than anyone else in this bar. But of course, tonight wasn’t about sadness. He had done it, he had finished his ph.d. and he was a professor, which was more than anyone had ever dared hope off. A dream come true, so he should be happy about it. This was a celebration.

He took a drag off his cigarette, exhaling as he ashed it in the ash-tray on the table, bearing the barlogo “The Drunken Nachon.” One of many Erast bars, exactly the same as it had always been. It was a relatively quiet night. Most went to the main city if they truly intended going out.

“ – So, it’s basically about innovation and EZPEC energy optimization. And basically, just expanding upon the formulas I worked out with professor Sutton when I was assisting her. And how that relates to the Thelmian Principles of Energetic Retraction. It could be interesting trying to apply it to mechanical customization, but that’s a project for the future,” he finished, a somewhat lengthy explanation of what his thesis had been about. A lot more brief than the lecture he had held two days ago on the same subject. He sat back more comfortably in his seat. It was strange, having free time again for the first time since… well, probably since starting studying. “Suppose there’s a lot of time for that now.” He took a sip off his beer, finally looking at Cadmus as he realized how long he had been talking, brows furrowing slightly in an apology. “Did any of that make sense?”

[Cadmus]

The street lights buzzed, flickered once, before turning on. A woman looked up, away from her cigarette and the group of people she was standing with, as if surprised at this sudden change around her from twilight to orange illumination. Above her a neon sign gleamed; reflecting in the windows of a passing car. The driver, locking the doors when he had to slow down to allow the group on the street to move out of the way, sent a curse their way. As if sensing this insult, a young man spat after the car, stomped out his cigarette, then pushed through the door to the Drunken Nachon. Once inside, he made his way past the tables, narrowly avoided being elbowed by a concentrated pool player, greeted the bartender with a grunt, inaudible over the music or the conversations and clatter of dice at the table where he now sat down. A girl handed him the dice. “Do you mind?” He asked, as he rolled, nodding towards jukebox, it was playing a rock ballad that had probably been the song of the summer back when the old men at the billiard table were his age; but now the guy near the jukebox inserted a coin with a “Whaddya want me to pick?” and the newcomer just shrugged, then noted down his roll.
“Do they have anything by Scott Vice?” The girl to whose left the guy had just sat down said; she leaned forward a bit, aware that he was watching this cleavage reveal with interest. She sent a knowing look to her friend, Terrell Poole was a pig, they both knew that. The Drunken Nachon was known for the cheap beer, not the pleasant company. And even the company was kind of sparse tonight.
“What about them?” Her friend asked, with a nod towards the neighbour's table.
Considering, she pursed her lips. If she turned her head slightly right she could see the two men occupying a small, square table, the one facing her was talking a lot; he was cute, although his hair was a bit too long; too short to be called truly long like her friend liked, but in the way where he needed a haircut. His friend, the guy he was talking to, she had a harder time seeing, he was fiddling with a cigarette but seemed to be listening. Turning back to her friend, she only shrugged, “Maybe?”

-

The talking man was Idés Chapmann, who was busy telling Cadmus about his ph.d.
In the four years since Nathalie had introduced him to the EFA –who fashioned themselves freedom fighters, whilst the rest of the country preferred terrorists– Cadmus had often enough wondered what Idés was doing there. The man seated in front of him had a bright career; he was even in the middle of telling him so himself; and he was risking it all by living a double life; was it worth it? These were the thoughts that occupied him, when he tried to follow along his friend’s explanation of what exactly the ph.d. had been about; despite his best efforts he had a hard time understanding the science jargon. It was partly people forgetting, and partly himself omitting to talk about it; but Cadmus had left school at the age of fourteen and his impromptu homeschooling later on had skipped elegantly over most science and maths related subjects. So, when Idés finally ended his explanation with a ‘Did any of that make sense?’ The truth was no. But that wasn’t a truth he was eager to admit; he took a drag of his cigarette before answering: “Well, it does. Kind of." It was said with a smile, and he took another drag of the cigarette, before letting it rest on the side of the ashtray "Anyways good thing you are done!” Then he picked up his own beer, “Once again– Cheers and congratulations!” and drank.

[Idés]

Something about the way Cadmus responded, made Idés think that no, Cadmus didn’t understand at all – even if he did smile politely about it. People rarely understood what Idés was on about. But for once Idés allowed himself to not feel bad about it and be, if not proud of himself, at least content with himself. This was an achievement! And as Cadmus lifted his beer Idés followed suit and said his own cheers with a smile, before drinking himself. The beer was bitter, cheap – but at least it was cold. He placed the glass back down on the table as music on the jukebox went from an old school rock ballad of a previous generation, to something decisively more pop-ish – though, the kind of pop that would appeal to rebellious teenagers and shock conservative mothers, and something that Idés found strangely nostalgic. He took another drag of his cigarette, exhaling before speaking again.

“It’s strange, though. I’ve never not been a student before.”
Or well, unless you counted the very brief few days he had spent in a holding cell. That did not count, though. Or did it? Either way, it was true. He was done studying. He was a professor now. And what did that even mean? No one really told you that at the end of achievement, was, well… a lack of no more work to achieve said achievement. He didn’t voice it out loud, but it felt strangely hollow. But before he could dwell on it further, two newcomers approached their table. Two young women, one smiling warmly at Idés.  

“Mind if we sit down here?” She asked, though already settling down next to Cadmus and placing her beer on the table, whilst the other sat down next to Idés. It was then she gave Cadmus a once over, and a tint blushed on her cheeks as she noticed — he was really hot. “Oh, hello there,” she said, willing herself not to shrink back in her chair from sudden shyness. “Are you two having a fun night?” She asked, twirling a strand of auburn hair around her finger.

[Cadmus]

I’ve never not been a student before. Idés said when they had both drunk. Cadmus, who had not been a student for the past nine years or so, did not know what to reply – not being a student did not mean you had to stop learning; it only meant… Well, he was not really sure what it meant. So he drank again. He was saved from having to come up with something to say that would not sound too bitter –he was happy for Idés. Really– when two women approached their table. Mind if we sit down here? it was less of a question than a statement; the woman who had spoken had already seated herself next to him. He didn’t mind. She had auburn hair, sharp features and light eyes, although he wasn’t sure of their colour in the yellow light of the bar; but the same light did not cover her blushing. He was not an oblivious person, and had he been her Hello there and hair twirling would have no doubts revealed her intentions.

Since he was first and foremost at the Drunken Nachon to celebrate his friend; not to flirt with strangers, he did not reply instantly, at least not with more than an acknowledging smile, but picked up his cigarette from the side of the ashtray, and looked to Idés. Trying to gauge what he made of their new acquaintances. “We are,” Cadmus said, after taking a drag of the cigarette, and he hoped that Idés would agree. “Actually, we are celebrating. My friend just finished his PhD – I know;”  He added, when he saw the look of disbelief on the face of the woman sitting next to Idés; and her lips silently forming a ‘no way.’ “It’s rather young. He’s a bit of a genius.”  Cadmus ashed his cigarette; then held out a hand to the woman next to him “I’m Julian, this is Idés, nice to meet you––?”  

-

Ava was glad she had suggested they moved tables; she wasn’t sure the men weren’t just kidding them, but a PhD? What in Iosta’s name would they do celebrating in Erast? Neither of them really seemed like they fit in; Julian, the guy that had introduced them was wearing a button down, and it was only the cheap beer that saved him from coming across as one of those pretty boys, out to spend daddy’s money in the tough parts of Ilomar; the type that Terrell loved to talk about roughing up. Sure Zoé didn’t seem to mind. And Idés? The guy sitting next to her, the PhD, –that was, if they were to be believed– well, wasn’t that something. But, when she’d seen the pair from the table by the jukebox, it hadn’t been some invisible nerdiness that had caught her attention; even if it fit the guy nicely, but his looks. She wasn’t really here to learn about his profession; still, wasn’t it an obvious way to start a conversation? “Soo, Idés, was it?” she asked, looking up at him with a smile, “is it true, or is he just talking you up?”

[Idés]

The man started talking and there was something incredibly magnetic  about the way he picked his words. Charming, she thought, probably the sort of guy who could talk his way out of anything with ease. Which was exactly her type, unfortunately. She shared a knowing look with her friend, who seemed in disbelief when the man told him they were celebrating his professor friend finishing his PhD. That definitely sounded too good to be true. And if there was one thing she had learned in life, it was that if something sounded too good to be true, that was usually because it wasn’t true.

There was a certain air about Julian, a sort of suave almost that seemed to belong to another era entirely – the kind she’d only ever seen in the ancient black and white movies her dad had always watched when he was still alive. Perhaps it only stood out to her because of how misplaced the pair was in the Erast pub, the genius and his charming friend, but it was intriguing. The likelihood that they were both lying was definitely there, but who cared when they were hot? They hadn’t approached them intending to share a life together. And she could appreciate an exciting fantasy over a depressing reality on any given day. If the truth was dull, she’d rather be lied to.

So she shook his hand. “Zoé.”

She tucked her hair behind her ear, smiling. There was something about Julian that told her that he definitely wasn’t from Erast. Perhaps it was just his fancy getup or something about his dialect, but she liked to believe that she could just tell when people hadn’t grown up here. People who had were usually rougher around their edges  and the touch of his hand was soft. “Where are you from, Julian?”

–

Idés wasn’t really sure why he had stated that he had never not been a student before, but the moment of silence between him and Cadmus told him that that probably wasn’t a statement he should have made out loud. But Idés rarely really knew why he said the things that he said, he just sort of spoke sometimes. Either way, they were interrupted by two newcomers.

He shrugged as Cadmus looked at him, he didn’t mind. The two women seemed friendly and besides, they had already settled down. Then, when Cadmus introduced the two of them, he couldn’t help but feel a bit embarrassed by the label genius. It felt like boasting. But Cadmus was, of course, charming as always, so it didn’t feel that false when he was the one saying it.

Then, the woman next to him started talking, smiling up at him. He turned his attention towards her, returning her smile.

Is it true, or is he just talking you up?
Which was a fair question, really.

“It’s true. Energetic engineering. Zeal innovation,” he confirmed, but the smile on his face was humble. He could brag, probably, about his career and how he was considered something of a prodigy. Some people probably would. But it felt wrong to do that. He was just Idés. And he would spare her the details of what his work really entailed – he had already rambled on about that enough for one night. He took a sip of his beer. “I don’t think I caught your name?”

[Cadmus]

It was intoxicating – far more so than the alcohol. Although Cadmus had barely touched it yet, he knew it would later be his excuse. What really thrilled him; simultaneously sending pangs of guilt and waves of delight through him, was the knowledge of being perceived. Where most people were left to guess, he knew. Knew what people thought when they looked at him, talked to him, how he came across – even, he supposed, how to make them like him. That was how he knew she didn’t care much about the story he had given her, and its validity, and when her hand touched hers, and she opened her mouth, he already knew her name. Oh, it was mostly intuition; but it was also so much more than that. Of course, he had not forgotten. The memories of sun bleached curls, freckles and green canopies might fade, but the shame didn’t. So he drank some more, tried to forget anyway as he repeated back, “Zoé,” and smiled instead, the easy smile that might have been easier in another life, but was nevertheless expected from him. “I like that. It suits you.”

-

Ava had no idea what Energetic engineering was, she knew about zeals, that they existed. But that was also pretty much it, and as much as she had any desire to know. “Well then, congratulations!” She said, raising her beer in salutation, smiled and hoped he wouldn’t elaborate. Whatever he had done was impressive. And even if he’s a fraud at least he’s not a pig. Same could not be said about Terrell and his shitty crew. She saw the dirty looks, but decided to ignore them. In favour of Idés, who was asking about her name. “Oh, sorry, I’m Ava!”

-

There were certain perks that came with years of practice when it came to lying; or well, evading the truth: you learned to have an answer ready. And if you hadn’t got one? Well, then there was always the option of evading the question altogether. Worth a shot. “What makes you think I am from somewhere?” He asked, eyebrow raised, taking a sip of his bear.

[Idés]

“Thanks,” he said sheepishly, raising his beer as well in response. He took a sip as she told him her name. He nodded.

“Ava,” he repeated, smiling. “Nice to meet you.”

For a moment, Idés wasn’t sure what else to say. He didn’t know this woman and therefore, didn’t know what to ask her about. Instead he opted to take a drag off his cigarette, letting his eyes scan the bar for a moment.

He noticed the crew by the bar glaring their way, or more than likely, the girl's way as they hadn’t paid attention to Cadmus and Idés before. Part of him was thankful that he didn’t have to deal with people like that in the same way when going out as women did. He exhaled smoke. But this was also Erast and the chances that the two groups had some sort of history was big.

It was as good a thing as any to make conversation about. He tilted his head their way, brows raised curiously. “You know those guys?”

–

Julian smiled as he said her name suited her and she thought to herself that that was a very handsome smile. There was something so sophisticated about him, despite their ragged surroundings, something classic and self-possessed about his features. A charm that made it seem almost entirely natural when he completely dodged her question – the red flags were certainly there.

But of course, red was a very sexy color.

“Well, most people are,”  she pointed out, teasingly. “Why wouldn’t you be?”

[Cadmus]

“Nice to meet you too,” Ava returned the greeting, taking a sip of her beer. She found it bitter, in an unpleasant way that caused her to make a face, which she hid by looking away, in the hopes that no one else would notice. If only everything else wasn’t so damn expensive! But her companion, Idés, hadn’t seemed to notice. Having gone quiet for a moment, he was looking around the bar, and she seemed to sense in that silence a sort of nerdy awkwardness that made it easy for her to believe his whole young-genius deal. Different from my usual type. Whatever that was. Longer hair, less put together? Someone more like the golden beverage she was holding; cheap, bitter and covered in fine pearls of perspiration. So it was a bit of a surprise just how charming she seemed to find her companion. It might just be a case of elimination; the alternatives at the other table being worse, but this shyness as he seemed to search for something to say, was endearing! Instead of helping him, which she might have, of course, she observed him, wondering if what she was seeing was genius at work, as he seemed to focus on something. A quick glance in the direction he indicated, was enough for her to figure out what had caught his attention. “Ooh,” She made an apologetic grimace – They can’t keep that up all night, can they? – turning back to look at him: “Yeaah, kinda. Zoé and I have played Yatzy with them a few times.” She waved it off, taking another sip of the beer, this time turning the grimace into a reaction to the men in question. “The one with the crooked nose is Terrell. I don’t know who broke it,” Rumours of anything from hitting on a Godia in service, to a Leeside barside, and something about a cousin of some politician were flying; no one really wanted to ask, “but it was probably deserved. Seems to think we owe him or something. For sitting at, quote, his table, end quote.” She shrugged, then smiled lightheartedly at her companion. “You know how it is.”

-

“That is true,” he agreed, picking up the cigarette, taking one last drag before putting it down and out in the tray. Most people were from somewhere, why wouldn’t he be? “Erast is somewhere too. Why couldn’t I be from here?” He asked, reclining, to the extent possible, in his chair, without really managing to look like part of the decór. “Or from the city at least. Is it my dialect? Does it give me away? I thought I had it down pretty well.” Shaking his head with assumed sadness he leaned forward again to grab his beer. He drank, then turned to look at Zoé, resting an arm over the back of his chair. Comfort was not, it seemed, a priority for the place. He still couldn’t make out her eye colour, but at least the music was low enough that he could hear himself when he explained “I’m from Fallonmore,” which was close enough to the truth to sound like a confession.

[Sponsoreret inhold]