Construct

--By Chance Durant

Chapter 1

“But the Patriot Act wasn't even legal.”

“Ignore legality,” Vince cut in, redirecting the discussion. “This is not a question of law, but value. Was the Patriot Act worth the price?”

“There wasn't another 9/11.”

“Sure, but prison without trials and torture changed how most of the world viewed the country. Some called us as bad as the terrorists.”

The class was arranged into two semi-circles, each facing the other along the three tiers of the classroom. After each comment, the speaking students jumped down a tier. If you were on the top tier at the end of the debate, your paper length doubled. Once you hit the floor, each comment you added to the debate added another page to the midterm, and a couple of them were visibly biting back comments.

The debate had gone on for about twenty minutes and broke out into a pure shouting match on four occasions, with comments ranging from well thought out points to belligerent insults. All in all, Vince Lewis felt it a fair representation of congress, even if a bit more productive.

“So, the question posed to you is, what is the better solution? Should a government limit the freedoms of its people to the point where proper protection is possible, or should the freedom be protected at the expense of the safety of the people? Which value should take priority? I’ll expect your papers in my Inbox by Wednesday. Take a stand, and prove your point. See you next week.”

        Vince heard a varied amount of grumbling, something expected from a midterm paper. The students slowly filtered out of the tiered auditorium, with a few shouts of “Bye Professor Lewis,” or “Later Vince,” from the less formal.

        For the last three years, Vince was part of the sociology faculty at Stanford University. He was still part time, but each semester they had increased his workload. He was respected by his peers, and had every reason to believe that he would be full-time in a year or two.  

        After the last students departed, Vince locked up the auditorium and headed towards the parking lot. The first half of the spring semester had proceeded smoothly so far, but today’s debates had worn on Vince, and he was ready for a long weekend. He opened the door on his 2018 Lexus and popped open his glove box.

        He made it a point to leave his cell phone in the car during classes. At the start of each semester, his students signed a contract to leave their phones out of the classroom at pain of getting dropped from the class or having Vince hit their phone with a hammer: student's choice. He kept the hammer in the front of the classroom hung between two pegs on a coat rack for emphasis.

        The Samsung notified him he had a voicemail. Thinking it was Faith, his girlfriend, he hit the icon without looking and was startled when he heard a slightly high pitched male voice.

        “Hey Vince. It’s me, Isaac. I… I got a problem man. I need your help. Give me a call as soon as you can. Thanks man.” The message ended.

        Vince’s heart dropped into his stomach. For two years he hadn’t heard from Isaac Ross. There was no significant disagreement between the two of them. More so, they simply drifted in different directions. For a few years back in college, Vince spent most of his free time with Isaac. After their undergrad years, different majors and eventually interests took time from the two. More than once Vince had thought about giving Isaac a call, but there always seemed to be something more pressing.

        Hearing from Isaac after all this time wasn’t the part that worried him though. It was the tone of Isaac’s voice. Their junior year, Isaac fell hard into gambling and then drugs. His ability with numbers and probability made poker a simple process, but he drifted towards a bad crowd. For two years, he dropped out of school completely, Vince only heard from him at times, Isaac usually calling when he was high as a kite. The last time Vince got a call from Isaac that sounded like this, Isaac was nine grand in debt to a bookie and just had his hand broken.

        Without hesitation, Vince paid off the debt with a student loan, but he made sure that Isaac got himself into a drug program. After that, Isaac gave it all up. The shock had been enough to scare the romance of the wild life out of him. He even paid Vince back. That was three years ago, and Vince knew well that old habits can die hard, and this sounded far too familiar.

        Vince stepped back into his office and quickly locked the door. Even after all these years, and two phones later, Isaac was still on his contact list. Vince told google to make the call, and Isaac picked up after one ring.

        “Hey Vince, how are you doing?”

        “Good, good. How about you?”

        “I’m doing great man. Great.”

        Vince paused.“…Your message sounded less enthusiastic.”

        “Yeah Vince, I… I’m fine, but I need your help.”

        “Isaac, Are you gambling again?”

        “No,” he said quickly, “and it’s not drugs either. I’m not in trouble, well, not yet, but I really need your help. Can you get down here?”

        “When?”

        “Tonight maybe?”

        “Isaac, what’s going on?” Vince snapped. He took a moment and toned his voice down a notch. “You know I’m here for you, but you gotta tell me what’s going on.”

        “Look Vince, it’s not what you think, but I can’t explain it over the phone. You… I really need you to come down here. I’m not in trouble, but I don’t know who else to talk to about this. “

        “Alright. Give me a few hours.”

        “Thanks man,” Isaac rattled off the address. “I appreciate this.”

        Vince said his goodbyes, and made another quick phone call.

        He was asked to enjoy Aretha Franklin while he waited, which he did, but before the chorus began the phone went to voicemail.

        “Hi Faith, It looks like I’m going to have a long night. I got an old friend who needs a hand with something. It came up last minute. I’ll tell you all about it tomorrow.”

        Vince was partially grateful for Faith not answering. Faith Michaels was a saint for putting up with him. He didn't try to, but Vince had a way of getting involved in projects and losing track of... well everything really. When he was writing his second book on educational theory he didn't contact Faith for six days. He didn't even check his phone the last three of them. Considering day five turned out to be their one year anniversary, that didn't go over well.

        She had forgiven him, and eventually decided it was simpler to just stop by and threaten bodily harm when he turned into a hermit. She still would not like the idea of him canceling their date and running off without a good explanation, and unfortunately Vince had no explanation to give. Hopefully he would by tomorrow.

        He ran by his apartment, took a shower, changed, and then hopped back in the car. Isaac was working on his PHD at Berkeley in physical engineering. The address he gave was about fifteen minutes off campus. The time wasn't bad for traffic, but it still took about two hours before he was informed “you have arrived at your destination.”

        He parked on the street in front of a generous modern condo with huge windows set amidst rolling green hills. Isaac was leaning against the siding on a small porch speaking, speaking to someone.

        As Vince stepped out of the car and slipped on his old leather jacket, Isaac and his friend walked up. Isaac and Vince did the one-arm-man-hug. Isaac was tall, a bit over six foot, but a bit on the gangly side with long limbs and a long face. He wore a dark red leather jacket, black slacks, and bright red converse. Curly red hair topped off his face which held a nervous smile at the moment.

        “Hey man, good to see you,” said Isaac as they separated.

        “You too Isaac. So what’s up?”

        “So this is Vince?” said the second man. He was a bit shorter than average, maybe five foot six, with a round face, dark skinned with black eyes. His hair was cut a little longer than finger length, and despite his youth, specs of gray were visibly mixed in with the black. He was smiling as well, and was anything but nervous. He looked like a kid who waited three days in line to get the next-gen gaming console, and the doors just opened.  

        “Jay Rivers,” said Isaac, gesturing for an introduction. “This is Vince Lewis.”

        “Dude, I’m so excited to meet you. Isaac told you all about the project right?”

        “Not really,” said Vince, feeling a bit lost in the situation. In the hours since his conversation with Isaac, he kept going over what he might find when he got to the address. A kid  in a candy store was not part of any prediction.  “All he said was he needed help with something, and he couldn’t really explain it.”

        “Right, right. Yeah, that makes sense,” said Jay nodding briskly. “I mean it’s not something you can just describe, right Isaac?”

        Isaac looked a bit embarrassed. “That is very true.”

        “Alright, well good to meet you bro. Come on in and meet the rest of the team.” Vince smiled and nodded, and as soon as Jay was looking away, Vince shot Isaac a murderous look. Isaac half shrugged and gestured for them to follow Jay into the condo.

        Anger ran a few laps around Vince's brain, slowing down the thought process. Then again, part of Vince was relieved. This situation appeared better than any situation Vince had expected to face. Apparently Isaac had prepared a part for Vince to play here as well, even if Vince had no idea what that part was. He did trust Isaac, and Isaac would not have asked him out here without a good reason. If Isaac needed Vince to play a part, he would play that part well, and then make Isaac pay for this afterward.

        Vince followed Jay, Isaac trailing in behind, and the three entered into a well-furnished condo. The furniture looked nice and uncomfortable, which led Vince to believe it had to be expensively stylish. Prints of photos were nicely framed along walls, one of the paintings looking familiar to him but he couldn’t place it.

        As they entered a living room, Jay gestured to a stoic looking brunette with sharp features and hazel eyes. She had a lean frame and a face that looked as though it could be very pretty if it cared to. The stiffness with which she held herself didn’t leave much room for such considerations. “This is Veronica, Veronica Turner. She’s our resident mathematician and engineer. Veronica stood and offered a handshake. Her movements checked all the boxes for politeness without any of the warmth that should have accompanied it.

        “Isaac and Tasha seem to think that you can help us with our situation. What exactly is your specialty?”

        “I specialize in not specializing,” said Vince. It was a common question in academic circles, and Vince gave his much executed response. “Liberal Studies, education, and sociology primarily. I focus on the improvement and growth of communities through education and interaction.” Veronica nodded skeptically, as though all of that sounded about as useful as a tissue paper prison cell.

        Vince smiled genially. He was used to a bit of a sneer from those who practiced hard science. For the analytical kind of mind, Vince's types of study were little more than egotistical rants with no more basis in reality than Star Wars, in fact he met a few that put more stock in the Force than sociological theory where all measurements dealt with unreliable statistics, all corrupted by personal bias. At least Obi-Wan drew a hard line in the volcanic sand.

        When debating, Vince was quick to bring up that most scientific studies of the last four decades were just as prejudiced, depending on whom the patron of the study was, but today was not the day to pick a fight, at least not yet. And when not in an argument, Vince did appreciate the analytical mind. There was something about the simplicity of reducing a question to 'yes or no', a finite series of answers, that was appealing to a man who lived in a world filled with subjective reasoning.

        So Vince ignored the contempt, smiled, and said, “So Mathematics? The queen of the sciences. I got through differential equations, but beyond that I was lost.” Veronica nodded, her face seemed to soften slightly to you are only nearly incompetent, which sufficed for Vince.

        It was only then that something Veronica stated sunk into Vince's mind. “Did you say Tasha is here?”

         “Hi Vince.” The voice was so familiar and full of memory that for a moment Vince was back in his Senior year of college standing in his dorm room. He waited, half expecting her arms to wrap around his waist and her cheek to press against his back like Tasha used to when she arrived, but it didn't happen.

        He turned and saw Tasha Ramirez. She was five-nine, but wore calf high boots with enough heel to put her almost at eye level with Vince. Filipino, she had long black hair that surrounded a heart-shaped face. She had blonde highlights Vince didn't remember seeing before, and there were other changes as well. Her body had filled out a bit from the nineteen year old frame he remembered, not at all unpleasantly, more woman than girl now, from princess to goddess.

        “Tasha, what-- Isaac didn't tell me you were a part of... the project.” She smiled and it was a beautiful thing. Vince had to stop and think for a moment. “What has it been? Five years?”

        She nodded. “Something like that,” and she tilted her head over slightly. Only then did Vince notice the person standing behind Tasha, right behind her, with one arm gently placed around her waist, absolutely marking his territory.

        He was a bit taller than Tasha in her heels, with bleached blonde hair and brown eyes. He had a thick build to him, an athlete or former athlete. The guy had a classic lantern jaw, straight out of a comic book, and high cheekbones. The image forced the question Hero or villain? to Vince's mind.

        He wanted to lean towards villain, but Vince had a feeling that had more to do with that arm around Tasha's waist. Of course, it could also be that look of hatred burning into him.

        “I still don't know why he's here,” said the man and Vince had to hold back a smile as he pictured the guy in a still frame pointing his finger menacingly, and shouting, Now you will face my wrath!!!

        “We talked about this Anthony,” said Tasha in her I shouldn't have to tell you this again voice. Vince had never seen it used from this angle before and found it strangely compelling. “We even did the construct. What more do you want?”

        “A construct isn't the same thing as meeting someone. We've met him, and I don't see how he is going to be able to change anything.”

        “We need a new perspective,” said Isaac. “And we need to be able to trust anyone we can bring in. You know we can trust Vince, so get over your issues.”

        Villain Anthony's weight shifted forward, and Vince noticed Tasha lean back into him, and hold his arm close to her stomach. It was subtle, but very like Tasha, and it sent a pang of something through Vince.

        Jay started to shout at Anthony as well, and Vince saw this was really headed in the wrong direction. Anthony looked like he was digging his heels in, and he didn't seem like the type to worry about things like being outnumbered, outvoted, or out-anythinged. If a change of course didn't happen shortly, whatever was going wrong here would get worse.

        Vince took three steps forward, moving between the shouting Jay and the apparent couple  and said, “Tasha, would you introduce me to your boyfriend?”

        “Tasha smiled and said, “Vince Lewis, this is Anthony Pierce. Anthony, this is Vince.”

Vince stuck out his hand towards Anthony. “I get that I'm the new guy here, but I think we're getting off on the wrong foot.”

        Anthony looked at him for a cold second and then took Vince's hand, crushing it in his grip. Vince let him, giving enough pressure back to keep his hand from folding. “Anthony, I know you've heard a lot more about me than I have you, and I admit I'm not sure how I'm going to help you guys. I really don't even know much about the problem. But both Isaac and Tasha are friends of mine and if I can help them out I will. If I can't I'll be out of your hair shortly, but I did just spend three hours getting here. I would like to at least hear what the problem is before I get back in my car.”

        Anthony kept up the arctic gales for a few more seconds before he loosened his grip and said, “What do you think Ronnie?”

        Veronica shrugged and said, “Our constructs aren't getting anywhere. We need a new perspective. Perhaps philosophy can grant perspective to the construct. It's intriguing at the least.”

        Anthony took a deep breath and let it out. “Alright. Mr. Lewis, let's see what you can do.”

        “Perfect,” said Vince. “So, what are we talking about?”