33. A Young Woman and Her Aunt - Lords of Serendipity

Jack was required for an urgent Zoom call with Helen and others from Arcadia about a highly sensitive matter, as soon as he was available. He deleted the email. He toured the rest of Serendipity’s campus in the Range Rover, with Quinn providing running commentary on the new buildings dedicated to lab sciences, engineering, and data science. There was also a new faculty lounge, located in a new office tower for senior administration and campus security. To Jack the buildings looked the same as most new buildings on any university campus—square and rectangular blocks of dark, gridded glass, with plazas and walkways enclosed under curved metal awnings. There were bike racks.

Where is everyone?

As of now, mate, you are everyone.

Meaning?

You’re American, aren’t you? Frontiersman? Moon walker? Sound barrier? Elon? However you want to put it, you’re number one, you’re first, you’re the one breaking new ground.

So I’m the only person working in this part of the university?

Until Monday, which is when things get properly started around here. You’ll meet everyone else then. And honestly, in a country like this? Having a little time and space to yourself before the crowds show up? That’s the real luxury. Trust me, enjoy it while you can.

For his year at Serendipity, Jack would be staying in what had been the original vice chancellor’s lodge, which had been converted into suites for guests and visitors. It was a large, white single-story building roofed in oxblood half-barrel terra-cotta tiles, with a deep wraparound porch lit up by diamond-shaped dark metal pendant lights that hung from thick black chains in between large black ceiling fans. You entered through tall double doors made of dark brown wood filigreed in water lilies. Just inside, Jack was greeted by an older woman and man, the housekeeper and groundskeeper. They were standing to the side, hands clasped, and bowed and smiled and said nothing. Quinn led him around an open interior courtyard, in the middle of which was a dark pool full of green lilies and stocked with bright orange koi, shimmering in the hard midday light.

His own suite had a bedroom, an office, and a sitting room, each with simple teak furniture and bookshelves and tall windows shuttered in the same dark wood as the front doors. He opened the shutters onto a porch, beyond which he could see a vast, treeless field to the side of the new buildings. Far off was a white dome sitting on a plateau partway up a green mountain: a Buddhist temple. Then one of the staff knocked and came in and asked that he keep the windows shut and locked and use the AC instead.

Because of the bugs? Jack asked.

Yes, sir. Also, bats. And rogues. We have no dogs or parapet wall. And when the Chinese rebuilt the house they took the bars out of the windows.

Before closing the window he took a picture and sent it to Katrina. He noticed that Helen had sent him several texts, asking that he check his email right away.

He took his meals in a large dining room reached through a narrow corridor off the interior courtyard. The meals were ridiculously elaborate—copper tureens of curry, chicken and fish and vegetable, black and yellow lentils, fragrant rice, crisp breads, cucumbers and onion in pepper and vinegar, platters of mango and guava and pineapple, raisin-filled custards, and round butter cakes covered in jam and icing sugar. The meals were prepared as if for several families, not just one person. Leftovers were never served. Jack tried to say it was too much food, to no effect. He went into the kitchen once, to ask for some hot water, and saw the staff packing everything up in neatly divided sets of silver tiffin boxes. He stopped insisting it was too much food.

Quinn said he’d come for Jack just before 10 a.m. on Monday morning, to take him to his first set of formal meetings. That Sunday evening, Jack went for a walk up the main road, back to the old campus. There were few people around. He took a picture of a slinky troupe of tawny monkeys washing themselves in the standing water of a broken fountain and sent it to Katrina. He kept walking. After a while he saw a woman with short gray hair riding a vintage-looking bike. She stopped under the shade of one of the large ancient trees he had so quickly come to like. She waited for him.

Hello, said Jack, wiping a surprising amount of sweat from his face and the nape of his neck. She was also sweating but didn’t seem to care.

So you’re the friendly American face of our new imperial rulers, she said. How are things going so far?

You’re a professor, I take it.

I am. And yes, I’m a professor here, as in here, not over there, where you came from.

What do you teach?

Does it matter? I’m sure they’re going to get rid of me as soon as they can convince the dean to stop offering useless and dangerous courses in literature.

So you’re an English professor.

I am. And you?

I teach statistics.

Pardon?

Statistics. I’m a professor of statistics.

You’re not a computer scientist? Not even a mathematician or engineer? And you’re in charge of the new data science building?

Not the whole building. Just a lab. And I’m the visiting associate director. My colleague, the permanent director, is an astronomer. I conduct analyses of the data he obtains from a new telescope, apparently the most advanced and powerful in the world.

Are you doing any teaching?

No, but I’d happily offer a guest lecture.

She shook her head.

My colleagues in computer science were passed over, and not even for another computer scientist. Just for an American.

I’d like to think I’m more than just an American.

Of course, of course. You always do, you Americans.

My name’s Jack.

I’m Stella Maris. Don’t ask. In graduate school, I just went by the initials, which, to American ears, sounded more appropriately exotic. Essem. It stuck.

Where’d you go to school?

I did my undergraduate here, actually. My father was on faculty. I went to Indiana University at Bloomington for my doctorate. And then I came back here, forevermore, or until I’m fired to help with the interest payments on one of our endless Chinese loans. I mean, the university needs the money, you know, to pay for fancy new buildings for fancy new professors.

I’m just visiting for a year.

And I wager you’re getting paid more than half my department, combined.

I’m sorry, said Jack. I didn’t mean to cause any offense. And I really didn’t understand the situation I came into. A colleague asked me to join a research project and it made sense for me at the time. That’s how I ended up here. And while I’m not surprised something like this isn’t supported by the faculty, I understand it’s also a chance to create some new opportunities for your students.

I see. So, you don’t understand what’s going on, and you’re really just trying to help, and you’re sorry if you’re getting it wrong. And it’s actually all for our benefit.

She smiled.

He stayed quiet.

You’re perfectly, perfectly American. Wonderful to have you here, Jack. Welcome.

She turned her bike around and rode off. Jack watched her go, then walked back to the lodge, where he barely touched the dinner, knowing that his presence here fed multitudes.

He saw Essem again the next day. She was one of dozens of professors sitting on folding white chairs in front of the new data science building for the formal opening ceremony, which took place under a white tent that had been erected over the plaza. Jack wore a black academic robe that Quinn gave him that morning. He sat in the front row, beside university administrators sweating heavily in their regalia, a government minister, two students, and two Chinese officials, who wore identical dark suits and had extremely black hair. They were all given garlands of damp white flowers that browned quickly in the heat. There were lengthy speeches, through which Jack learned that Martin had been the first person, so far, to accept a global research chair as part of the Chinese Institute of Science, Technology, and Friendship’s collaboration with the newly named Serendipity University. Jack was introduced as a distinguished scholar in data science and given a pair of bronze scissors to cut the white ribbon strung across the front door of the building alongside the Chinese and Sri Lankan dignitaries. More photographs, then a reception. None of the faculty stayed. Quinn took back Jack’s borrowed gown and then introduced him to the university’s Sri Lankan administrators, who all smiled and nodded and told him about the American universities where they’d studied or sent their children. They asked him nothing about his work and no one suggested they meet. Quinn introduced him to the Chinese officials, who spoke halting if clear English. They asked him how things were going and if there were any changes he thought should be made. Jack noted he’d only just arrived but Quinn urged him with his wild blue eyes to say something.

Well, if I had to offer one suggestion for improvement, these new buildings would look even better if you didn’t have to see the students’ laundry hanging everywhere, he said.

They nodded vigorously and left, at which point the government minister departed as well.

The university administrators, who had been sipping tea and juice and looking at their phones, were like university people anywhere. They filled multiple plates with reception food and left as soon as they could. And Quinn disappeared before Jack could ask him if there were, in fact, any formal meetings scheduled for the day other than the opening ceremony.

He stayed in the tent and was reading Essem’s faculty page on his phone when two students approached and introduced themselves. They were graduate students in computer science, a young man and a young woman, both assigned to work at the new data science center.

Professor, when would you like to have our first meeting?

Why not right now? he said.

The three of them went into the building. While finished on the outside, it was far from finished on the inside, other than the security desk on the first floor and a lab that had Martin’s name on it.

The security guard, who was wearing a ski jacket over his dress shirt because of the air-conditioning, unlocked the door for them. Turning on the lights, hearing the hum of the machines, Jack felt more at ease than he had at any other point since coming to Sri Lanka. This was a space that was, at last, familiar: a computer lab. There were rows of gray tables, chairs on wheels, black desktop computer towers, and double-wide monitors. Large screens were mounted on the east and west walls and whiteboards on the north wall. The south wall was a glass enclosure behind which rows of black server racks flashed. There was a large, glass-walled office in one corner. Martin’s name was on the door, with Jack’s beneath it.

Is it just the two of you? Jack asked the students.

They looked at each other. They were both very thin. The man—whose name was Piyal, but he told Jack to call him Paul if it was easier—wore dark dress pants, shiny black loafers, and a thin white dress shirt rolled at the cuffs, under which you could see a gold chain and thick, sleeveless undershirt. The woman—whose name was Krisanthi but who would answer to either Chrissy or Sandy, whichever he preferred—wore a dark skirt, shiny black flats, and a thick white blouse, buttoned to the top.

Professor, sorry, but we’re not sure. We were told to come here by the university. To be honest, we’re not entirely sure what we’re supposed to be doing, and the professors in our department say they have no idea what this research project is, either.

Why did you agree, then?

Compared to grading undergrad papers, Professor? This is far better for the CV. Also, the pay is extremely, very good.

Jack nodded. He couldn’t disagree. Instead, he told them what they’d be doing together. He explained that he was a professor of statistics who was working on new research from a professor of astronomy. Jack told them the name of Martin’s university and that, if things worked out, they’d likely be named in a future publication. They nodded in awe.

He explained that Martin was working with massive amounts of data produced by a telescope located in South America, which was searching the skies for evidence of colliding stars that led to the creation of black holes, and specifically for evidence of major energy release, known in the field as the afterglow. Martin would send them the data he received, and their work was to analyze it with various statistical models, then send it back to Martin. He would measure the Serendipity lab’s findings against his own predictions and in turn share this combination with theorists also working on the project at universities and institutes around the world.

The young woman raised her hand.

There’s no need to do that. You can speak freely, Piyal and Krisanthi. And please, call me Jack, he said.

Thank you, Professor. This is truly an amazing opportunity. We are honored. The thing is, actually, we are not trained in astronomy or statistics. So the question is, specifically, please, what are we supposed to do?

You’re graduate students in computer science, correct?

Yes.

You can work with algorithms and formulae on data sets, and you can plot and graph and describe the findings in various models?

They smirked. Looked almost offended.

Absolutely, Professor.

Then you can work here. Choose a desk and log in to your terminal and we’ll get set up. Martin wants to meet us all via Zoom later today, and I’d like us to be ready to work with whatever he sends after that meeting. Okay?

They nodded and went to their desks, and together they started their work.

A couple of weeks later, Jack’s phone rang, waking him. Unknown caller. He immediately assumed something was wrong with Katrina, back at Haven, even though her living situation and courses seemed to be going fine so far. But it wasn’t Katrina. It was Helen. Jack had ignored all of her messages and many, many High Priority emails from Arcadia.

Is there a specific reason you’ve been avoiding me? she asked.

No, he said.

I see. So you’re just generally avoiding me. Even though I repeatedly texted that we have an urgent issue.

Jack yawned.

Helen sighed.

Of course you yawned. An admin flunky and sellout like me always has urgent issues, right?

No, Helen. I merely yawned. It’s the middle of the night in Sri Lanka. But okay. What is it this time? Did someone hear me say J. K. Rowling? And, I should ask, before we proceed, is it just the two of us, or are you speaking to me from a room full of lawyers?

Jack, I know you’re upset about how things went with that course.

I still can’t believe the university wouldn’t—

There’s really no reason to litigate what’s already been resolved. And I want you to know the decisions that were made were above me. But right now, so far as I can tell, you’ve come out of it better than anyone else.

Jack turned on the lamp beside his bed. He noticed all the sounds of nighttime Sri Lanka—the knocking blades of the fan overhead, the sawing, tapping symphony of birds and insects, cut through now and then by a dog’s howl and distant engines. It was three o’clock. Another two hours before the normal morning sounds. That same symphony, joined by the scrape of the servant sweeping fresh fallen lime-tree leaves from the verandah with a palm-leaf broom. Looking around his room, Jack saw a small green lizard on the wall. It froze in the sudden light before scuttling behind a dresser. Jack was the lizard. The dresser was Sri Lanka. No. Arcadia was the lizard. He thought about going over and moving the dresser to see how big the hole was that was letting the lizard get into his room, his life. He’d seen others in the bathroom and elsewhere in the lodge. He hadn’t mentioned the lizards to the house staff. It felt touristy. He could deal with this himself. He just had to move the dresser. He imagined finding a nest of lizards back there, a whole colony. Is that what you called a group of lizards? But what was he going to do, get rid of them? Move out? He couldn’t do either. Because he was here to pay for Katrina, and to support what Martin told him was the most important research of his career. He was helping Piyal and Krisanthi get significant academic experience, too, not to mention all the local Sri Lankan families he was feeding with every barely eaten meal at the lodge. All of that was true, no matter what people like Helen or even Essem thought.

But Jack was also lying to himself. Or at least not admitting how he felt about running an international data lab for one of the world’s leading astronomers. He would be listed in future publications. He had also received a note of congratulations on his new appointment from his former Monte Carlo method collaborator at Arcadia, now at ETF Zurich, who, it turned out, also held a global research chair like Martin’s. His was at a university China was now supporting in Zambia. This, instead of teaching hated courses on overload back at Arcadia, or calculating the per-student fee for conducting grade-adjustment interviews, or doing clerical work so he could be paid for that too, never mind getting paid, instead, to stop teaching, to keep quiet about corruption. For the first time in his career, Jack was being treated and paid like he mattered, to ideas, to people, to how they came together in the world that was the university. This was why he was in Sri Lanka.

And now Arcadia wanted something from him, again.

Tell me, Helen, what is it.

Thank you. And it’s just us speaking, okay?

Okay.

We have an unusual situation related to what happened in STA 105.

Specifically what part of what happened in STA 105? Because even if I was prevented from saying what I know, a lot happened, Helen. And didn’t you just say it was all resolved?

It is, as far as you’re concerned. But remember how the university concluded that the student who committed suicide did so because of a bad romantic relationship?

Yes. Are you willing to admit now that this wasn’t the reason?

No, Jack. In fact, now we know for sure it was. A young woman and her aunt have written several letters to the president, demanding that she be admitted to Arcadia and given a full scholarship and immigration support for her whole family because of what happened to her fiancé while he attended Arcadia. And she’s threatening a lot of different things if we don’t do what she asks.

Why tell me all of this?

Because she’s from Sri Lanka, Jack, and we need you to meet with her.