Free Antiphony by Chris Katsaropoulos Page A

reflected in it, their white light shining back at me from the surface of the deep water.” His eyes blink again, once, twice. “And then I saw something else that frightened me: my own young face staring back at me, framed by the two stars in the depths of the water and in the sky above.” Theodore is struck by the ghostly image Pradeep is describing, an echo of the white mask he envisioned floating above a black pool during his speech.
    â€œWhat frightened me then, and still does, was the feeling that entered my head that I was utterly alone. There was no one else but me and those two stars, whose light had traveled hundreds of millions of miles to reflect off that water into my eyes.” Theodore can see too, in his own mind, the faint, twinkling light of those stars, so far away, so separate from each other and from the one who saw them, alone on a cold distant planet hurtling through the void. “My father was gone. And I had the feeling that there was only me, I was the only one who ever existed, and everything else in the world might vanish if I were toclose my eyes or look away for a moment.” His face, turning now to stare at Theodore, reveals that the Board Meeting has been the least of his concerns; his lower lip, drawn back between his teeth, his chin pulled up to keep the emotions inside.
    â€œIt was then that I decided, or at least first had the idea, that I wanted to understand what those stars were and how they came to be. I would study them and know what my place was, what my relationship is to them. That black emptiness … was a challenge to me, to understand it. If I could understand how it all worked, then I would never have to be afraid like that again.”
    There is something Theodore wants to say to him, but it is probably not the right time. And, thankfully, he is prevented from speaking by a light rap on the door behind him.
    â€œThere you are.” It is the administrative assistant of Victor Fieldman, their boss, the Research Director both of them are seeking to replace. She is speaking to Theodore, not Pradeep. “Victor has been looking for you. I came by your office earlier, and you weren’t there. He’d like to talk to you now.”
    So, his sense of impending doom this morning has not been without reason. He wheels around to follow her out of Pradeep’s office, and, as he turns to go, he hears Pradeep call after him.
    â€œTed,” he says in a diminished voice, the look of dismay that has haunted him still shrouding his features. “Remember—there is no God.”

    H E HAS OFTEN followed Amanda through her undersized office, past her desk and the two chairs with magazines arranged on a low table which constitute a cramped waiting room for those who have an appointment with Dr. Victor Fieldman. Unlike most others, he rarely has to wait to see him—and today is no exception. Amanda’s sandy brown hair is done up in a loose bun clamped to the back of her head with a many-pronged tortoiseshell comb from which long loopy strands have come free. She is at an indeterminate age that could be twenty-eight or could be verging on forty, an age in which her status as a single woman emanates from her as a whiff of desperation. Her hips are too wide for her shoulders somehow. Her dangly earrings are designed to draw the eye up and away from her body. She is bright enough to navigate the politics of the office and at least recognize at a surface level the topics of the meetings she has to schedule. And she is astute enough to skillfully read Victor Fieldman’s moods, an art that took Theodore many years to master.
    This is the first time he has ever seen her open Victor’s door without knocking; she simply turns the knob and motions him in.
    Victor’s office is a long, narrow room, unusual in its size and length for this office building, positioned as it is at the vertex of one of the irregular angles overlooking the north quad