Azalia

By Mac Yerick

An enthralling bedtime story within a story, encompassing a hidden message where good ultimately triumphs over evil.
Garron’s only child Peter has an inoperable brain tumour brought on by Turcots Syndrome which was inherited from him. Most of his family fortune and years as a top surgeon and researcher have not stemmed the tide on his son’s illness. His obsession to find a cure has left him with little time to spend with his dying son. Consumed with Peter's illness and lack of progress he feels he has nothing left to offer his son, however when Peter waits up late one night all that changes. Peter may be trapped in a failing body but his mind is still sharp. A tradition begins as Garron tells the first of many stories as he and his son travel the path of terminal illness. Together a story unfolds, one which will bring hope to his son and maybe just a little relief for the quilt he feels.
The story of hope begins beyond the stars of tomorrow. The planet Azalia is the first creation The Professor has let his students partake in. Sitting in the great lecture hall they marvel at the evolution of the little green planet, the first to have water. One student in particular takes a very keen interest in this planet. It is now his turn to show the others how smart he truly is and in doing so he will inevitably travel down the path of evil. This student, Zared Blackley, in an attempt to outdo The Professor, unwittingly becomes forever tied to the new planet. But he has not learnt his lesson and bent on besting The Professor, his evil desires are strengthened when he discovers a book that once belonged to The Professor. Hidden in this book are the secrets that will give him the ultimate power to rule the new planet. With this new found power Zared will gather 13 other students to his cause and thus will begin the rein of the Titans on Azalia.
Yet evil must have its counterpart and Zared will not be the only one interconnected to Azalia. Michael and his friend Gabriel, along with four master's students, Harriet, Melody, Candice and Lizzie inadvertently consume a fruit from Azalia. This fruit contains a very special substance called Potentiam, or also known as the living light. They too are now allied to the planet. The power of the living light flows through them and with it they will fight the powers of darkness and try and put a stop to Zared and the Titans in a battle that could see Azalia destroyed by the very one who created it. Still hope is given for this small planet in the form of a prophecy. One family in particular will fulfil this prophecy.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Mac Yerick
• Release date: Jun 15, 2015
• ISBN: 9780473291808

Mac Yerick

Mac Yerick is a newly published author who hails from the small university city of Dunedin, New Zealand. This is his first foray into the literary world. He is married with four daughters, (the fab four). Educated in New Zealand, he has a Degree from the University of Otago and a teaching qualification. However, he is current working as a law enforcement officer for the New Zealand police.His Christian faith is important to him and he is an active member in the Dunedin city Baptist Church.

Book preview

Prologue: The Story Begins

The test results had come back and his worst nightmare had become a reality. All his adult life he had lived with the possibility that this might happen. The years of training, the years of research had not stemmed the imminent. How was he going to live with this revelation? How was he going to explain this to his wife? Moreover, how was he going to tell his only son?

He had never been one to escape into the liquid recesses of a bottle but this was different. He had to escape the churning knot that formed in the pit of his stomach. His conscious mind needed to rest and the bottle gave him that rest, even if it was only for a few fleeting hours. Parents should never outlive their children. It was not the natural order of things. Why was it, there could be so much sadness, hardship and evil in this world? And why was it humans seemed unable to change it?

The tears flowed down his cheeks, creating small warm rivulets of water, as he sat in a sun chair on the balcony overlooking Central Park. The lights flicked far below and the noise of the city assaulted his raw senses. Life was going on, his anguish unnoticed by an indifferent world.

He tipped the glass back and took another gulp. The warm brown liquid eased down his throat and dulled his senses. It was having its desired effect; his mind was growing cloudy. At least for now he could escape the aching clench that crushed his chest and constricted his breathing. Nevertheless, the morning would come and his problem would not be solved. Heck, what was he thinking? It was not just his problem, in fact, it was not his problem at all, it was his son’s. His grief had turned him into a self-absorbed wreck. This most recent revelation sparked another wave of guilt, which flowed over him like a murky tsunami, so he took another swig of the warm intoxicating liquid.

One year later.

Garron slumped down onto the soft black leather sofa and let out a long loud sigh as he ran his hand through his dark brown, wavy hair, his long lanky frame barely fitting on the seat. Another hard day at work had finished. He had arrived home later than he expected but that was nothing new. How many times had he finally gotten home from work only to find he was the only one up and the apartment was silent and dark?

There he sat in the darkness again. The short drive home had not been long enough to process the day and let go of it. Neither was the elevator ride to his penthouse apartment long enough to let the lingering thoughts and feelings wane. From his position on the sofa, he could see out the ceiling to floor windows of the open plan living room, down onto Central Park. The streetlights glowed in the distance and the height muffled the noise of the city that never sleeps. It seemed that even the city could not find rest tonight.

Life for him was tough but it should not be. Anyone looking in on his life would see the well-respected head of Neuro-Oncology at Memorial Sloan Kettering Cancer Centre, one of the best Cancer hospitals in the world. Heck, he had the flash car, the high-rise penthouse apartment, the adoring wife and a beautiful son, prestigious job and a huge family fortune behind him. He inherited the family fortune after the death of his mother and father at an early age. So why was life so hard? He knew the reality of life, everyone had that one cross to bear, that one thorn in their side, to bring them back to the important things in life. For all his possessions and money, the one thing he could not buy was life, despite trying.

Staring out the window, he contemplated the miracle he and his staff had seen at work. For those present, a miracle was the only way they could explain what had happened. It was these infrequent miracles that kept the spark of hope alive within him. However, they also acted as a double-edged sword. It was a chance of new life for someone but not for his son.

He had been the consulting surgeon for a little boy who had brain cancer and today was the big day. He was finally going to get the complicated surgery that would prolong his life. It was a Medulloblastoma just like his son’s brain tumour. It was clearly visible on the scans and the boy displayed all the symptoms of an advanced tumour lodged in his brain. The headaches, nausea, feelings of weakness and being constantly tired; the loss of speech function and then finally the little boy started to show signs of paralysis.

However, today it had all changed. The boy sat up in bed this morning as if nothing was wrong with him. The staff knew there were only two possibilities. It was either the last push of his body, giving hope to all before they were dashed, or it was a miracle. The scan showed it was latter, truly a miracle. The brain tumour was gone. There was not a sign of it anywhere. Garron knew it was nothing he had done, or for that matter, what the staff at the hospital had done. The tumour had simply disappeared. Sure, some tried to explain it away. One doctor even tried to say it was due to the remarkable ability of the body to heal itself. Yet really, they had no way of explaining it and in order to avoid the big questions of our existence, and the existence of a divine creator, it was explained away as a miracle.

Nevertheless, where did that leave him? Why did his son still have a brain tumour? Why was his son not healed in a miracle? He was left with the perplexing question - what made one worthy of a miracle or not. Surely, his son was worthy.

What made it worse for Garron was there was nothing he could do for his son. He had spent his entire adult life studying and researching to become a doctor, knowing that someday there might be a possibility he would have to find a cure. All his recent life’s work was geared to finding a cure for his son. He was looking for an effective treatment, as his son’s tumour was inoperable. What is more, the radiation treatment and chemotherapy had only slowed the development of the tumour, but now they were no longer an option.

Another stab of pain and guilt struck him. It was always these miracles that hurt the most. He was left feeling angry and hurt. Life was so unfair sometimes. He was jealous of the boy’s parents. They had their son back. His was still dying.

Garron however, was also a man of science and he knew that someday science would solve his problem. After all this is why he became a doctor. He had spent a considerable amount of his family fortune, researching and testing. Attempting to find a cure. His son had inherited Turcot syndrome from him. This syndrome affected his genes and made his son susceptible to getting the tumour. He was responsible for his son’s illness. It was his genes that his son had inherited and he was going to make things right. He was going to make things better. He just had too.

Thump, Garron looked up startled by the sudden noise. He looked at the clock on the wall. Its hands had moved on and he realised that he must have dosed off. Then the thump came again. Garron jumped to his feet, but he need not have been concerned. It was Peter, his son, crawling down the spiral staircase from the landing above. Peter had lost the use of his legs a short time ago due to the tumour and was relearning how to do everything again without the use of them. Travelling down the stairs, he would put his hands under his bottom, push up and throw his body forward landing on the carpeted step below with a thump.

It’s 2.30am in the morning, have you only just come home now? whispered Peter in a low voice. Mum told me to go to sleep but I wanted to wait up to see you. I must have fallen asleep, but I am awake now, see.

Garron felt a little pang of guilt. He had told Peter he would pick him up from school and take him to Central Park to sail the radio-controlled boats, but he had become obsessed by the miracle and forgotten about it. Oh boy, we had something special planned today didn’t we? Sorry but we had a miracle at work. You remember the little boy I told you about, well something happened. I cannot explain it but the tumour is gone. He is due to go home in two days’ time. I stayed on to find your miracle, but haven’t found it yet, said Garron.

Don’t worry dad, I know you do this because you love me. We still have time to find that cure. Besides, we can spend some time together now. I know it is late but we are both up. You could call in sick tomorrow. I am, Mum said I could have school off tomorrow as a rest day. I have been feeling very tired today, but I don’t feel like sleeping now, said Peter.

Maybe we both need to get some sleep so we aren’t so tired, replied Dad.

I have all tomorrow to do that dad, replied Peter.

Alright, but what can we do at this time of night? said Dad.

How about you tell me a bed time story to help me sleep. We could start up a tradition. I sleep during the day, you work and we tell stories all night until I fall asleep. How about it?

When do I get to sleep then? said Dad.

You are a Dad. Dad’s don’t need sleep, replied Peter.

Really, alright, I will tell you a quick story, but if I am telling you a story we need some refreshments. I’ll get the chips; and I feel like a milk shake, that can be our substitute for hot milk, said Dad.

Garron went to the kitchen to get the supplies while Peter dragged himself to the window seat and lay down. When Garron returned he set down a bowl of chips and two large glasses of banana milkshake on a nearby coffee table. He pulled open one of the window seat drawers and retrieved a soft fluffy blanket to put over Peter. You comfy? asked Dad as he gathered up the drinks and handed one to Peter.

Garron looked out the window into the inky blackness. It must be cloudy because there was not a star in sight. Not even the few bright ones that shone on a clear night, What stories do I know? he thought.

Peter interrupted his thoughts, Dad you need to start the story right. All the good books start with once upon a time or something like that. I know how about once upon a time, long ago, in a place far away, said Peter to encourage his dad to start.

If this is my first of many stories how about in the beginning…, said Dad.

The Beginning

In the beginning, there was a formless mass. It was empty and darkness was over the surface of the deep. Many faces looked on. A loud voice called out Let there be light, and a student stumbled his way to the lectern where the light switch was and flipped it on. The lecture hall lights burst into life swallowing up the darkness except for a swirling, pulsating, blackness in the centre of the room.

How is that for the start of a story Peter? said Dad.

Peter just lay there with one eyebrow raised looking a little confused and waited for more. Garron continued but this time he started as all good stories start.

****

Once upon a time, in fact the very first once upon a time, long ago, in galaxy far away there was a small and insignificant planet called Azalia and this is the story of how Azalia came to be.

Let me take you far from this world beyond the stars and everything we know to an ancient place at the beginning of time. A place filled with magic and miracles. Well that is what we would have called it because we could not explain it. However, for those who know about such things it is really a place with very advanced science. More advanced than quantum physics, in fact more advanced than anything Einstein or Newton could have imagined, or the great DaVinci for that matter.

In this far-away place beyond our imaginings there lived an ancient scientist who was more learned than anyone else. He was The Professor and Chancellor of a small university for gifted scientific students. He was a mysterious character much loved by many of his students; some even considered him like a father. He in turn loved them. The students looked up to him with great esteem, despite not actually having to look up to him, for he was not that tall. He had many names and one of the names he was known by was Elohim. Another name was simply The Professor. The students usually called him The Professor. They did this much the same way as you would when you did not wish to call your teacher by their first name because that would seem disrespectful. So when you wanted to get their attention you would simply call them sir or ma’am.

The Professor had no equal no one was like him. He was a short man but if you looked at him closely and for long enough, he appeared to grow and was not short at all. He had bushy snow-white hair that covered his ears and touched his collar. Yet for all his greatness, Elohim was not a flashy, boastful or proud Professor. He liked to keep things simple and had a kind way about him. His face was round but not fat and he had a long straight nose on which to hold his reading glasses. However, if you looked closely at the glasses you were met with a surprise. They did not have lenses in them, as we know it and The Professor did not use them to read. No one then or now is quite sure what they did or why he wore them. Yet whenever he looked at you with those glasses on you felt he could read your very thoughts, see into your very soul.

That made it hard for the students to lie to him. They felt they could not as he would always discover their lie. I am sure if he looked at you with those glasses on you would feel the same way. He could ask you why you did or did not do something and you would tell him the truth. It may sound scary for you and me, but strangely, it was not scary for the students because they were mostly good boys and girls and knew that lying was wrong so did not do it anyway. Besides, they had nothing really to fear and if they did do something wrong then the Professor would just say, With great mistakes comes great learning, or everything works for the good of the student.

One day this ancient scientist set about designing a great experiment for his students. One that was set to last for ages upon ages. At this stage, I should tell you that time in this world passes differently from time in our world or for that matter time as we know it. One second there can be like a thousand years in our world, or one day in the great lecture hall, his world, can be like a second in our time. Therefore, for this story, do not worry about how long things take or what time of day it is, for that would just confuse us. We can simply call it by what we know it to be. The time in this great lecture hall is magical and changes without us noticing.

The students filed into the great lecture hall and took their seats. It was early in the morning and the start of a new semester. The great scientist, The Professor, had promised them that they could be involved in an experiment. This was new and they all felt very privileged they could start doing more than just looking and learning. One student in particular felt especially proud. He finally had a chance to show The Professor and the others how smart he was, for indeed he was the smartest student there.

The lecture hall was a large round room with row upon row of seats radiating out from a central dais or stage. The seats stretched high to the lofty ceiling and towered over the dais. One central light source hovered in the middle of the hall and gave light to all around. The best way to describe it was like a ball of fire, but not like a sun because it was a blue green colour and did not burn. A smaller light source orbited around it. It also was a ball, but gave the appearance of reflecting the light from the fiery ball.

Students could quietly whisper the appropriate instruction and the small light would hover closer so they could get a better look at whatever it was they wanted to see. A bit like the lights you see at the dentist. The dentist can twist the handle and shine the lights into your mouth so they can see what tooth to drill or where to put that filling because you ate too many lollies. Needless to say, this light was constantly moving, whizzing around the room in response to all the instruction it was getting. You or I might find it distracting but remember time passes differently so for the students it did not appear to move much at all.

The dais in the centre of the lecture hall was raised off the floor. One had to climb four ringed steps to get to the flat platform. A large lectern normally stood in the middle, but on this occasion, it was pushed to one side leaving the dais flat and bare. The lectern was a waist high table with a series of TV screens lying flat on it. To activate the screens all one had to do was pass a hand over the top them. They would shimmer to life and a four, yes a four dimensional image, not a three dimensional image, would appear above them. This image could be seen and more importantly touched; no need for data projectors or keyboards or touch screens.

What the students could see above these screens today were a series of words flashing like a neon sign saying, IN THE BEGINNING. With a rush of wind as if someone had left a door open, the room went black. Not like the black of night or a dark room but pitch black, a total all-consuming darkness that seemed to suck your breath away and leave you gasping for air.

The students sat in bewilderment staring into the darkness. Minutes or perhaps years passed and nothing happened. Finally they all heard The Professor’s familiar voice calling from a distance, Let there be light.

Zared Blackley who was sitting nearest the lectern when the lights went out fumbled in the darkness for the row of seats in front of him. Feeling his way forward his feet found the first step to the dais.

With one foot in front of the other, he counted as he stepped. One, two, three, four, bang! His knee hit the side of the lectern. He let out a small expletive before catching himself and then reached out to feel for the top of the lectern. He hoped the expletive would be lost in the darkness. However, it was not. The word he used made most of the students gasp. No one swore in the great lecture hall and one tried very hard not to swear at all on campus. It was a small slip but one that would start to show Zared Blackley’s true colours.

All of a sudden, the lights exploded on. Everyone covered his or her eyes at the harshness of the intense light. Slowly one by one they removed their hands to look around. There suspended in mid-air as if by magic was a cloud of blackness, swirling, pulsating and twisting in the middle of the dais. The black cloud moved in and out but never away from the centre of the dais. It spun and churned as if it were being blown by a fierce wind. A storm cloud suspended in the middle of the room that emitted no noise or light.

A quiet whispering started to roll around the lecture hall and rebounded back on itself as waves do when they crash into a breakwater. What was The Professor doing? What was this before them? Only one student did not utter a word. He had a close look at the black mass before returning to his seat. He was mesmerised by the whirling cloud. He had heard of this science, or maybe he had read it somewhere? This was the great science that brought galaxies and solar systems to life. He should have guessed this was what the Professor was up to; but not to worry the time for greatness was upon him, if he could just get the chance to show it.

Zared the Great

Zared Blackley quietly sat with a smirk on his face. Look at all those other students, mouths open gazing in astonishment. No wonder he was the smartest in the class and like the smartest person in a class, he knew it and did not let anyone else forget it.

I know where I have seen this, he whispered to himself. Then he looked at the mixture of first, second and third year students all looking dumbfounded by the object in front of them.

Didn’t any of them read the ancient histories? What about the manual of time before times? Zared thought.

You see Zared would only read the right books. He did not read for fun as you and I might do. He would only read the books that he needed to so he could gain knowledge of the high science.

That is why one day I will be the master in this world and more. I will eclipse the Professor. There is only so much more I can learn from him! thought Zared smugly to himself. Therefore, with that thought rattling around in his head, it would appear his arrogance might lead to trouble.

Zared gazed across the lecture hall and caught The Professor looking at him as he walked from the door near the exit sign, where he had been standing, to take up a position next to the lectern. Zared quickly looked away regretting what he had thought. The Professor’s face bore the brief signs of sadness.

Unwanted memories jumped into Zared’s mind from years earlier when he was a younger boy wondering lost with no recollection of who he was or where he came from. He remembered the loving kindness The Professor had shown him. The Professor had treated him like a son and at times, he considered The Professor a father figure.

He recalled first arriving at the University. The other students seemed to have very similar child hood experiences. None of them could recall who their parents were or where they had come from. One day they knew nothing and the next they appeared here at the university with no memory of growing up.

It seemed the Professor cared for not only Zared but all the students here. It was as if he had taken them in and fostered them. They had been provided with shelter and food. He had taught them and considered their every need. Moreover, as hard as he tried he could not remember what it was like without knowing The Professor. Zared sat there and looked at the other faces. They were now his new family.

Those thoughts brought back other memories of the awkward days of being a tall lanky kid with acne on his face during his first days at the University. The embarrassment of not being able to co-ordinate his long limbs exacerbated his feelings of inadequacy. However, that had all changed now that he had filled out. He was clear faced, tanned and quite athletic. In fact, he was a match for all but Michael on the sports field.

Then a second more selfish thought struck Zared Well, it was this university wasn’t it that provided me with what I needed not The Professor? In fact, the university only provided me with what I need because my research was so good. The university in fact is using me for free research and as for these others, they are not really my family. I don’t need them anymore than they need me.

It angered Zared to feel so ungrateful, why did he do it. It was like he become someone else. Like something else was controlling him.

The Professor has shown me nothing but love and all I want to do at times is …ahhh! he screamed internally, kill him, so I can be what, the master? he chided himself.

Zared knew one of the sources of his anger was because The Professor was always telling him what to do. He never gave him the freedom to do anything he wanted to do. That needed to change. He was now capable of much. Why does The Professor not let me do more?

Zared continued to sulk and spiral downwards in his own thoughts as The Professor waved his hand through the flashing words on the display on the Lectern.

The Professor removed his glasses and looked around the room. All but one of the students’ faces reflected what he felt when he looked at the black churning mass.

As the caretaker of the book of knowledge and the manual of time before times I have this experiment to show you. However, it is not just for me to show you, you can have a hand in this experiment. You are able to shape and influence it but I must warn you that any interference beyond my instructions is forbidden, said The Professor.

Here we go again, The Professor telling us what we can and can’t do, thought Zared.

There are many galaxies out there with many different worlds. All have been designed with great care and it is with great care I will design this world for us and you will see the great science at work yet again.

He paused to let his words sink in. That is enough for today. You are welcome and free to visit this experiment at any time but you are not to touch, any unwarranted interference will have implications far beyond us, said The Professor.

The students collected their books and bags and slowly filed out of the lecture hall a bit bemused that class had been so short. The Professor looked on as he waited for them to leave. When the lecture hall was free of students, he pulled up a chair and slowly sat down. Leaning forward he put his head in his hands and leaned his elbows on his knees. He fixed his eyes on the swirling blackness. A smile crept across his face. It was time for another creation; an experiment like no other. Were his students ready for this? he said quietly to himself already knowing the answer. The Professor lovingly lifted his right hand and reached out to the black cloud letting it swirl around his fingers. Time upon time surged forward. A time beyond our reckoning passed before he turned his hand over and watched power course from it. The science had begun.

Slowly the old Professor stood and walked out, turning one last time as he reached the exit to look upon the churning mass. As the door closed behind The Professor, Zared Blackley stepped out of the shadows. He had seen everything.

So much for not touching, what is the old man trying to achieve? he thought to himself.

The Second and Third Lectures

The early morning sun shone brightly as the students all hurried to the great lecture hall. Today was set to be day two of the experiment and no self-respecting student wanted to be late. There was no quiet shuffling into the lecture hall today. The students raced to get the best seats at the front. As usual, no matter how early they arrived, Zared Blackley was the first one seated and in the best position to see what was going on. He looked around as the others raced in and as first year student went to sit in the seat beside him he put out a leg to stop him. Sorry that seat is taken fresher; you are going to have to sit somewhere else.

He saw Michael Hedgemann and called out There is a seat here for you, my good fellow.

He had saved the seat much to the annoyance of some. Michael Hedgemann smiled and waved, he was grateful that he could arrive a little later and still get a great seat.

Looks like a great turnout. Word must be getting out about what The Professor is up to, said Michael. Zared just shrugged his shoulders feigning disinterest but really, he was excited as the next student. He had stayed up most of the night pouring over the book of knowledge to see how this experiment was going to turn out. A bit like reading the last page of a book to see how it ends. He thought he knew, but really, how can a student know more than the master can.

The Professor was late and the students were getting restless. They were sitting there talking amongst themselves when someone yelled out I dare someone to touch it.

They all looked at Zared. He was the only one brave enough, or stupid enough to take up that dare. Therefore, he rose to his feet and taking a bow, he walked up the steps. Michael called out barely above a whisper Sit down Zared, don’t be a fool.

Another student yelled out Didn’t your mum ever tell you not to touch; besides you don’t know where it’s been.

Still others called out various silly remarks to taunt Zared. He ignored only those that did not encourage him. What did they know anyway? I have seen The Professor touch the cloud. Nothing happened to him. Who is he to say don’t touch when he touched it himself?

The students hushed as Zared reached out his hand. Staring at the cloud his inquisitive mind was running wild. Who was he that he couldn’t go forward and touch it, feel it, smell it or even taste it? he thought. The Professor would not find out unless someone told on him.

A student dropped her pen and yes you could hear it drop it was that quiet. Zared’s right hand disappeared into the cloud. His hand tingled with an indescribable power as the cloud twisted around it. All of a sudden, he felt a sharp jolt as if someone had kicked him from behind. He turned to see who it was but there was no one there. You and I know it was really the kick of an electric shock. He withdrew his hand and gave it a shake. This was more than just a dark cloud. He could feel it surging with life. What else was The Professor going to create with this? he wondered.

Sit down master Blackley, came the irritated voice of The Professor. Zared jumped in surprise and tumbled off the dais. There is always one who must draw attention to himself. Why is it always you Zared? said The Professor.

Zared sulked back to his chair. His face had gone red and he was feeling unfairly treated again. After all, he was not the one who was late and he was just doing what students were supposed to do, investigate, test and learn.

Well my little angels now for today’s lesson, said The Professor.

The Professor stepped up onto the third step of the dais and started to pace around the step, as he walked around and around he slowly started to rise higher and higher. It was as if he was walking up some invisible steps. He raised a foot up onto an invisible step and stepped up. This went on until his waist was at the top of the black cloud then he stopped. Taking a small glass ampoule out of his breast pocket, he slowly undid the lid. Attached to the lid was a little dripper. The Professor sucked up a little of the murky liquid from the ampoule into the dripper and reached out over the pulsating cloud. Squeezing the dripper, a single drop fell from the tube into the cloud.

Nothing happened. Well that is what those looking on thought. However, if you looked very closely at the centre of the swirling clouds you could see a very small pin pick of light developing deep within the middle of the blackness. The spot slowly grew bigger and bigger changing the colour of the cloud slowly. It started to change from a black to a deep blue to a deep rich aqua colour. The clouds’ churning slowed and it grew calm and still. It was still in liquid form, or gave the appearance of still being in liquid form, but took on the facade of a giant glass marble with swirls of light cutting through it. Then the swirling cloud separated in two with a great clap of thunder and flashings of lightning, thus forming an expanse of ‘sky’ in the middle. The lightning continued unabated as the cloud was torn in half. The Professor climbed down the invisible steps and sat in his chair gazing at the experiment. The students looked on fixated by the torn cloud, which had now formed two semi circles. All went silent.

Quietly The Professor leaned forward and picked up a small lump of rich brown earth from beside the lectern. It had been in a very small yellow bucket. The students had not noticed it before and did not know where it had come from. With skilful hands, The Professor formed the small lump into a ball rolling it around and around in his palm until it was perfectly spherical.

The Professor stood and with the skill of a major league pitcher tossed the small earth ball into the marbled cloud. It penetrated the cloud and hovered in the centre surrounded by the cloud. It hung unmoving and at a snail's pace grew bigger and bigger until it was half the size of the cloud. As it grew bigger and bigger the deep aqua coloured cloud nearest the dais floor started to disappear. Well, when I say disappear it was sucked into the ball of earth from a central point at the bottom much like a vacuum cleaner sucking up a cloud of smoke and as it did, it made the ball grow larger still.

It was not until Michael looked at his watch that he realised how much time had passed. Gabriel Whitticker, who was sitting next to him, gave him a nudge and whispered. I wonder how long this is going to take?

Gabriel was the best friend of Michael. They did a lot together, but appeared to be chalk and cheese to each other. Michael serious, Gabriel not so serious. Michael academic, Gabriel not so academic. Yet they did complaint each other well, filling each other’s strengths and weakness on the most part.

What would you rather being doing? Michael responded.

The wind is up and the lake is looking good for windsurfing.

You need to apply yourself more young man, Michael said.

Gabriel leaned over and gave him a friendly punch on the arm. Do you think I could sneak out? said Gabriel.

You had better not. Don’t you remember what happened last time? said Michael.

The Professor did not turn around and with his back to Gabriel called out to him Go, get that windsurfer of yours and bring it here master Whitticker.

It was not an angry voice but one in which you thought you could be in big trouble. The rest of you can go and have some lunch. I will meet you back here in an hour. You do not need to bring your books or bags. The next lessons are practical, said The Professor.

The students got up and walked out of the lecture hall. Some were chatting away at what they had seen while others remained silent not quite comprehending what the purpose of this experiment could be. Gabriel Whitticker also got up to leave. He was dreading what might happen upon his return.

In fact, he thought to himself, Should I even return? If I am not here, I cannot get into trouble. What does The Professor want with my windsurfer anyway?

For the second half of the day the lecture filled up rather slowly compared to the first half, probably because for some of the first years it had been a long day even though it was only just past lunch. Moreover, as many of you may feel after a hearty lunch on a nice sunny day, you just want to have an afternoon siesta. That was the case at least for the older third years and the seven postgraduate students.

Sitting down, some of the first year science students felt naked without their books. How were they to record their findings and the teachings? Zared Blackley was not one of these worried students. His photographic memory and amazing ability to recall details left him relaxed in his seat. In addition, being a postgraduate student like Michael Hedgemann and Gabriel Whitticker, they did not have exams as such. They were doing research for their PhD’s and they visited The Professors lectures so they would know what to teach when they helped with the various tutorials and labs they had to take; which incidentally Zared found a drag.

They were the only PhD postgraduate students so they were held in high esteem by most of the other students. That is all except the four Masters students who really knew them and what they were like close up. They were nicknamed the fabulous four. Why fabulous you ask? Well they had a real beauty both inside and out, all had long flowing hair of various colours, blondes or brunettes, and they were smart and surprisingly kind. These four female students kicked around together like sisters, hardly ever were they seen apart. Harriet Moreland was the eldest, followed by Melody Thorne, Candice Webster and Lizzie Fenton. They loved being with the boys and enjoyed their company. Well they enjoyed it most if the time but boys being boys they found them a bit tiresome at times. Testosterone had its advantages but boy rivalry can be a bit tedious.