Such Soap
- Locked due to inactivity on Aug 4, '16 4:29pm
Thread Topic: Such Soap
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I legit want to soap by myself because I'm just that cool. So, GTFO plz.
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Yolo gonna soap about him
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Cambridge, 1964
"George. George! Who was that?"
"Him? The chalk guy? That was Penrose."
I looked at him. "Penrose? Roger Penrose?" -
"Heard of him, have you?" He smiled, still standing in the open doorway. I pushed a few papers aside at my desk.
"He's that topologist, correct? The one with the drawings?"
George nodded and clicked his teeth. "Correct." -
*cambridge 1965
"I gotta go, Stephen. I'll... See you later, yeah?"
I nodded to him, sitting at the desk, grabbing a note page. He shut the door, and then I begin writing.
Dear Jane,
I'm fine. It's really nothing to worry about. I feel normal. To be honest, it's just harder to walk. It's fine. I'm fine. I hope you're doing well, at your women's college? George and I haven't much work of us lately. I've been looking into Cosmology. That Hoyl hates me, I swear. It's because he's a steady-state man. I'm fine with it. Can't wait to see you. -
I paused at the discomfort in my hand. Holding a pencil was beginning to be a challenge. I had to grasp it between my index and middle to keep it upright, and move it between my thumb.
How about tea? Love,
Stephen
I smiled and folded up the page. -
I glanced over a few pages from ideas that Hoyl had. His steady state nonsense. I grimaced and headed over to my bedside. How could he be so intent on something so... Bleak? So.... Thoughtless?
I sat to unlaced my loafers. Steady state was the past. We needed something for the present. The Big Bang. It was not cartoon physics. -
Cartoon physics were irrelevant. The Big Bang was not irrelevant. I reached down for my laces, struggling with the motion of grabbing and pulling. I bit my lip, and tried again. And again. And again.
I bit my lip even harder and grabbed the heel and forced the shoe off. Taking a deep breath, I got the other off too, laces untied. I slumped back.
Who thought you could actually be exhausted from untying shoes? The doctors hadn't washed their hands of me yet, though. Perhaps their was still a chance. -
I HATE IPADS *there
Even if that chance was small. I pulled off my Cambridge vest, shakily undid my tie, and got my pajamas on. They might have a lot of good news for me. Even if they said I had two years. -
I awoke that morning to George, knocking on the door. It was a bit earlier than usual. I put my glasses on and pushed myself up with the nightstand. I got to the door, nearly out of breath and I opened it.
"Thanks, Stephen. My, uh, girl- are you okay?"
"Oh, yes." I exhaled. "I'm fine. I'm fine." -
"Alright, then. Hoyl's giving a lecture. Care to defy him?"
"Not right now, George. Sciama is already upset that told him wrong. I had to. The physics were wrong, anyway. Someone was destined to notice."
"Sorry for getting you... Up? Then."
"Not problem. It takes me a while to get ready anyway," he nodded awkwardly, and gestured to the room.
"May I come in?"
"Go ahead George." -
"Quite the mess you've got?"
"Oh, yes. No time to put much away," I said, waving my hand to my papers scattered on the desk and table. "Too busy, what with Sciama and Hoyl. I've never had so many calculations to do in my life."
George snickered at that, fingering through leaflets scribbled with crooked writing. I squinted. My writing hadn't ever been like that. Not until lately, at least. -
George went on about something. My mind was drawn away in space and time. And Roger Penrose. When I snapped back, I interrupted George and rushed past him.
"So sorry, George. I'm supposed to meet Jane today. She wrote me and... Yes. Doctors too. So busy. Sorry George."
"It's fine, Stephen... I, uh, understand." -
I just realized that I typed 1965. I meant "Cambridge 1963" wtf
After bathing and getting dressed in a suit, I went to the hospital in which the doctor I had was stationed. Getting out of my Fathers car was more difficult than I had remembered it being. He just stood there, nearly in tears, watching me try and get to a standing position. He didn't help because he couldn't. It was too much for him.
---
"There's nothing more we can do," He said, holding a clipboard. "It's just-"
I cut him off, walking away, gripping a cane with white knuckles. A cane was all he could recommend, as my legs didn't hold me up as well. I just walked away, my face screwed up. -
"We need to do more than just support him!" I heard my father say as I walked back to my parents. I leaned against this cane, panting lightly and displeased. "Vitamin B? Hydroxycabanamine? Steroids? I haven't washed my hands of you yet. They're wrong! You hear me? The lot of them, they're wrong!"
"Dad, I'm fine." He almost groaned. I could see my mother welling up. "I'm fine. I promise that I'm fine."
"Fine!?" He nearly shouted, but he stood still, mouth agape. I sighed and turned toward the door.
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