Michael Remembers Book 2

By Vassar Smith

Book 2
Michael Tadlock must come to terms with two traumas. When his adoptive parents, the Farrells, are suddenly killed (innocent victims in a crime war), Michael, legally compelled to go live with his aunt, must leave the home and community he has grown to love. He adapts well enough to school and life in a small town, but notices a troubling phenomenon: While his body began to mature at a comparable time after his first Retrogression Procedure this time (when, by all rights, he should have the development of a boy in his mid-teens), Michael doesn't look a day over 11. Doctors tell him that the second Retrogression Procedure has adversely affected his pituitary gland, so that his adolescence/maturation will be significantly delayed, but probably not aborted with his substantial mental and financial resources, Michael (already a college graduate twice over) applies to Stanford and is accepted to earn a Ph.D. in history. So, he does. Ironically, though, as a known retro Michael is treated so badly by his "liberal" fellow students the first year, that thereafter he lives off campus in a neighborhood where he is accepted as a "regular" kid, even quite well liked. At last his body begins to mature again, but even after receiving his Ph.D., Michael finds all academic job offerings on Earth closed to him because of his retro status. Still, he doesn't give up. At Burroughs University on terraformed Mars he is welcomed and appreciated. Michael, at last an adult again, meets the love of his life, gets married, has three sons, and enjoys a state of happiness and fulfillment that he never before thought possible.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Vassar Smith
• Release date: Mar 18, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301994724

Vassar Smith

V. W. Smith was born in Memphis, Tennessee and has lived most of his adult life in California. He earned and received his Ph.D. from Stanford University. He has been internationally published as a poet and humorist as well as a serious scholar and translator or Russian literature. His published translations include the novels BAD DREAMS and CONSOLATION by F. K. Sologub, and numerous poems by Pushkin, Lermontov, Sologub, Blok, and other Russian masters. Collections of Smith's original poetry include: BYZANTINES AMOK (1990), UNDER THE LIMERICK TREE (1991), THE OVEN-BIRD CHORUS (1993), and THE CALIPATRIA TRIOLETS (2008). BAST'S ASSIGNMENT is the third in a series of exciting, original novels that employ elements both of future fantasy and of social satire. Its story begins some three Earth years after the ending of the second book. That novel, BAST'S RECORD, is a sequel to Smith's uproarious satirical novel MICHAEL REMEMBERS, published by Midnight Express Books in 2012.

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MICHAEL REMEMBERS

(A Novel in Three Parts)

By V. W. Smith

Published at Smashwords by

MIDNIGHT EXPRESS BOOKS

MICHAEL REMEMBERS

Copyright © 2010 by V. W. Smith

Smashwords edition

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BOOK II

May 1, 2356—April 30, 2386

Chapter 1

Like the diary that I started when I truly was only nine years old, I got distracted from writing the other personal account that I began. From the outset I realized that the strict form of a diary would prove unsatisfactory. So, I used another ancient form almost as obscure nowadays, namely memoirs. Someday I might revise them into a more finished autobiography. For now let these entries serve as the foundation for that or as the building blocks for a work in themselves.

The hiatus in this project was unintentional, as was the cessation of the original endeavor. This time it happened, I suppose, because I suddenly found myself overcome by too many happy distractions. Besides my work both as a student and as an unpaid but highly appreciated instructor, I had many hours of fun and companionship every week, almost every day with Tim and Marshall. Then more companionship: The Hewett family moved into our building. Mr. and Mrs. Hewett were liberals and had imparted to their son Eric their nonjudgmental view of retros. The Hewetts took the condo next to ours after the Cranes moved out in the summer of 2355.

Eric, a quiet, sandy-haired, blue-eyed, freckle-faced boy, was eight years old at the time. Bobby, now eleven, duller than ever, and approaching obesity, made overtures of friendship to him. It impressed Tim and me how Eric treated Bobby decently but also managed to keep Bobby from monopolizing his time or taking advantage of him in any other way. Still, when Eric was with just Tim and me, the mention of Bobby’s name would elicit such a knowing smile from our new friend! There was no need to wonder whether or why he preferred our company.

Another considerable block of my time was given—gladly—to my adoptive parents. Not only they but I, too, cherished the moments we spent together at breakfast every morning, at dinner most evenings, and an hour or so after dinner on many nights. Dad Farrell especially enjoyed playing chess with me. Our skills were about evenly matched. Mom Farrell preferred card games, poetry, or just intelligent conversation. They went out several nights during the week and one night on the weekend as a rule—sometimes on business, sometimes to social commitments. Though we spent more time together than most families did, the time that we had with one another seemed all too short.

In life one rather frequently comes across adults so ignorant or so insecure as to feel threatened by the presence of a bright, articulate child. To my good fortune, the Farrells were quite the contrary. Had I treated them disrespectfully or acted like a know-it-all, they might have regretted their decision to open their home and hearts to a retro. As it was, though our family did have its occasional moments of stressful disagreement, by and large courtesy and consideration prevailed. If the Farrells were deprived of the lovable cuteness and amusing impetuosity typical of a primo child, they were more than compensated by my total abstinence from screaming and whining, tantrums and other undesirable conduct. My six years with Mom and Dad Farrell were good years. I hope that I made that time as worthwhile for them as they did for me.

In the summer of 2357, when I was 11/56, my world came crashing down. On July 31, Alexander and Patricia Farrell were dining at the fashionable restaurant Lucca’s. In the middle of their dinner they were murdered. They themselves had no personal enemies, but their table happened to be next to the wall of the private room where a crime boss was dining that evening with three of his closest associates. A timed explosive device, detonated in that small room, killed not only its intended targets but also many innocent people, including my parents. A rival underworld organization was blamed for the blast. Several suspects were arrested and charged, but no one was ever convicted.

I was sleeping over at Eric’s that night. When the police came with the horrible news, the Hewetts very decently offered to let me stay with them at least for a few days until my future