Mayor Loki gets intercepted by an intrepid young
science student!
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None
The collection of posters and fliers in Ikol’s arms nearly tipped. It had been the struggle of legging the collection on foot and not having the foresight to find a bag or box to put it all in before leaving. Actually, no -- the foresight was there, but the timing hadn’t been as kind. He’d gotten a call from the soda fountain that usually had a clear view of when Mayor Loki exited. Maybe he had to bribe a waitress a little for that favor, but she called.
And he missed the first attempt. The science department’s one phone had been drowned out by what could only be summarily named as Science Noise: experiments at work, whirring and bubbling and clanking. He caught the last ring of the second attempt, had been told that Mayor Loki left his office minutes ago, and that…
That meant grabbing the lot of his presentation material, doubling back for his glasses upon realizing that he’d taken them off to squint into the microscopes for a bit, and then running as best as his non-runner self could while gripping all the miscellaneous things that seemed to important to have on hand for a sidewalk presentation.
One packet slipped out from under his arm, and he scrambled backwards to snatch it back up in a messy bouquet of crumpled paper. He could see Mayor Loki ahead, getting ready to get into his car.
“SIR!” Ikol huffed. “Sir, wait...!”
The papers, the posters -- everything was dumped unceremoniously on the hood of the mayor’s car. Ikol heaved himself over the top of it all, bracing with his palms on the car’s hood and gasping for breath.
The weather was still nice which was why Loki had driven his BMW 507 convertible roadster to work that day. Actually he’d been driving it all week. That probably wasn’t the best way to look like a ‘man of the people,’ but Loki had never really pretended to hide who he was in the community. Everyone knew his rags to riches story. It’s not like he was the resident doctor, pretentiously showing off without realizing it because he was born with a silver spoon in his mouth. Quite the contrary. Loki was from the other side of the tracks. He worked hard to get where he was. And even though he was so-called ‘new money,’ nobody in the community dared pester him about it. Because Loki had actually done well by Dunwich as their mayor. For both the rich and the poor. No one thought he’d ever amount to anything when he was younger and that had been a powerful motivating factor for him while he was growing up. He made sure he did everything right. And he did. Which was why he didn’t feel any shame in driving around in an expensive sports car.
He’d earned it.
But seeing that young man slap his papers and documents and palms down on the hood of his car did cause an irritated twitch to form above his right eye. And maybe that vein near his temple was throbbing too. Teeth were possibly grinding. The rest of his body, however, managed to keep its calm. For the time being, at least. That was one thing he’d had to learn to cool over the years. His temper. Julia had helped with that. But every once in a while the thin layer of rage peeled back.
Poor kid looked practically catatonic though. That, and the upcoming election, were the only things keeping Loki from losing his cool.
“Inhale through the nose, exhale through the mouth. Works best if you hold it to a count of six,” Loki said, a little too deadpan. “You’re the science fair kid, right?”
“Dexter,” Ikol wheezed out. He took a good, deep breath and forced himself to cool his proverbial jets. There were more things going on than a merely out-of-character jog that would have escalated his heart rate, but the physical component pushed things summarily over the edge. He took ten seconds -- probably ten precious seconds for a mayor -- to lean on the hood like a wilted sunflower.
Then, it was to business. “Science club. I’m… I’m from the university. We don’t do fairs, that’s…” He straightened up and then anchored a hand at knee height. Maybe that was too short for the age of child he was thinking. Oh well. “Grade school.”
He felt red in the face. He probably was. There was a prickly heat and he could feel sweat threatening to drop down the back of his shirt.
“I just wanted a minute of your time, sir. See, we at the Science Club, have seen a stemming of funding lately, and I think it’s just because Dunwich is falling out of sorts with the backbone of humanity. I have some materials, here...” Ikol started to rustle around his papers.
“Oh.”
Oh, no. Did he grab the wrong stack? These looked like generic fliers and posters for the upcoming Science Symposium, not his carefully-crafted presentation on space exploration and the stars.
Loki wasn’t completely out of the loop where science was concerned, but, admittedly, it was not his field of expertise. He left that up to Julia. She was the resident genius, after all. With, of course, the exception of that one other fellow from the university whom she sometimes collaborated with. At least, Loki thought they occasionally worked together. Truth to be told, he wasn’t entirely certain. He didn’t want to seem like he was prying into her professional affairs. That was one of the promises they made to each other when they got married. They would each have their own careers and they would both support each other. No questions asked. It was an agreement that worked well for them. Of that, Loki was proud. He thought that made them quite the modern couple.
Needless to say, science clubs versus science fairs meant very little to him. If he’d kept his children in public Dunwich schools then he might have been aware of the difference. Alas, the brats were off in Switzerland. And everyone was happier for the arrangement.
“Dexter,” Loki repeated. What a bland name. Is that why it had a ring of familiarity to it? Because it was boring and common? No, he didn’t think that was it. But he couldn’t quite put his finger on what it was. “I really am quite bus—”
But before he could finish, the young man was digging through his papers for something.
Don’t roll your eyes in front of a potential future voter, he reminded himself.
“All requests for scholarships, charity, and donations need to go through the proper channels, Dexter. I suggest you call my secretary in the morning and arrange it with her. I’m certain she’ll be more than happy to write up a proposal for your club.” And now Loki really wanted to head home. He reached into his pocket for his keys.
Ikol looked up upon hearing his name, and for a second it might have seemed as if he was clinging onto something more than the mayor of town learning it. Perhaps it was more like hearing a parent acknowledge his existence for the first time. He stopped shuffling papers and beamed with a million watt smile that probably did not help his disheveled meeting out in any respect.
“It’s only --” Ikol forced himself to snap back to awareness. He had a mission here, after all. “We’re running out of time on --” One of the fliers was unfolded and held up. “This.”
Ikol frowned. Then, he flipped the flier around so that the printed side faced the mayor.
“This,” he tried again. “The Science Symposium is in three weeks, and so far attendance is half what it was last year. Maybe if you -- if you could, sir -- find a moment to stop in? It would mean the world to me.”
There was a silent second, then Ikol amended. “The whole club, I mean. All of us. Not just me. Well, me, as well, but… us.”
Loki thought the conversation was over. Apparently he was wrong. Before he could stick his key in the car door lock, the student was holding up one of his many — many many many — fliers. Loki took a calming breath and this time he actually paid some attention to what was written on the document. Maybe if he gave this boy a fraction more attention he’d be able to get him to skeedaddle. But while he did read the first few lines about the Science Symposium, his thoughts were on dinner. He really hoped the chef made something different tonight. Loki was getting tired of the same old song and dance. He was in the mood for something exotic. But Julia was the one who put in the orders. And since neither of them could really cook worth a damn, Loki usually had to put up with whatever was on the menu.
Unless he decided to indulge with takeaway. He and Julia hadn’t done that in a long time. Maybe now was a good time to reinvigorate the old habits.
It would mean the world to me.
Loki was dragged out of his thoughts. Gone was the daydream. Instead he fixed a hard, suspicious stare on Dexter. That slip-up felt like more than a simple stumbling adoration on his part.
He reached out and took the flier, giving it a more studious glance. Then he slipped it into the inner breast pocket of his suit jacket. Three weeks away? By then the campaign would be over. He’d either be mayor or he wouldn’t be. Promising to make an appearance at a silly university event wouldn’t make or break him.
“Of course. I’d be more than happy to give you and your fellow club members my support.” Loki smiled. “Anything else I can do for you?”
Please say no.
Ikol sighed, part out of relief, part because his breathing had normalized and that was feasible now. It sounded like a promise, even if the specific p-word hadn’t been employed.
“Oh, that’s great, sir.” He moved as if to reach out and shake the mayor’s hand in thanks, but then realized that the mayor was actively trying to get into his car. The hand awkwardly went from an offer to shake to a fist pump and then… a hesitant, featherweight little punch in the mayor’s shoulder. Surely that was the worst attempt at a recovery. “Thank you. Thank you.”
Then, as if to make a point, a bunch of the fliers slid off the hood of the car and fell onto the pavement. Ikol stooped immediately, scrambling to pick them all up. He swore lightly under his breath as his glasses slipped down the bridge of his nose and nearly fell off.
“I’m fine, sir! I don’t mean to hold you up. I’ll just collect these then be on my way, sir!”
Loki couldn’t imagine an interaction being any more awkward than this one. He suspected there was something else to Dexter’s hesitance and bumbling behavior, but whatever it was he couldn’t see it. He should have been able to see it, but he didn’t. Maybe it was the stress of the campaign and the worry over the upcoming election. Nothing was set in stone, after all. Ten years running unopposed and suddenly he was facing off against someone who had a very real chance at beating him.
Damn Ted with his perfect teeth and his annoying combover and his ironclad support from the farmers’ union.
Loki frowned at Dexter’s weird-attempt-at-being-friendly punch. Poor kid. His parents must have been the most socially inept saps on the entire planet. Or maybe the kid just didn’t eat enough leafy greens when he was growing up. Either way, Loki felt a little bad for him. He felt — gasp! — sympathetic.
Another half-concealed sigh. Loki slipped his car keys back into his pocket.
“Let me help,” he said, crouching down beside Dexter to help gather up the papers. He even stretched his arm under the car near the front tire to retrieve the few that were harder to reach. Then he neatly placed them in a pile and held them out to Dexter. “You’re really nervous, you know that? There’s a trick for that. My father taught it to me. Whenever you feel yourself getting anxious, just take a deep breath and tell yourself that you’re smarter and more capable than anyone else in the room. Doesn’t matter if it’s true. But if you say it to yourself enough you’ll trick your brain into believing it. After a while the fake confidence becomes actual confidence.”
Loki stood up and brushed a bit of dirt off his sleeve. “And if you have half a brain, which based on your science club enthusiasm I assume you do, most of the time it is true. There aren’t a lot of really intelligent people out there. Just a lot of people pretending.”
Loki smiled. This time it was honest and genuine. Then he placed a hand on Dexter’s shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. “So, pretend harder than them and you’ll be fine.”
Ikol’s focus whipped up upon hearing the reply. The mayor was helping him? He stalled, lost for words and momentarily disconnected from how to control his own limbs. The restart of at least the latter came with a stack of the fliers being held out to him. He grabbed them, then busied himself with retrieving a few others that had cascaded downward around the car’s fender.
And, to Ikol’s credit, he managed to order everything relatively back into a stack -- albeit, with some crinkled, a stray twig or pebble, and some artistic choice of orientation. He’d stood back up, listening to the mayor’s words as the man spoke about fathers and lessons, about confidence and how to navigate a world…
It was the kind of speech he hoped for from a father. That he was getting it from Loki was an irony that the mayor seemed to not recognize. The whole effort to be placed in Dunwich, in this university, had been part of a longer attempt to get close to the man who had brought him into the world. It was the same man who was currently gripping his shoulder. Ikol’s eyes must have looked like a deer’s in headlights.
“Actually, I was thinking...” The advice was to project confidence, pretend until it was real, right? Ikol straightened his shoulders and found an inch of extra height in that small change. He fumbled his jacket pockets for a moment, seeking out the folded picture that had lived in them since his days at the orphanage overseas. It was a photograph of his father and mother, seemingly left behind in case he ever felt like venturing out into the world to find them.
His hands came up empty. Did it fall out somewhere? He sent a cursory glance from where he’d come running just minutes ago.
“Oh, biscuits. No, sorry -- it’ll have to wait. Thank you, sir! I have to go!”
There was a moment — a very brief and subtle moment — when Loki thought he felt something. Not quite a memory or a thought. Not even a feeling really. It was like recalling a fact. A truth. Something he knew but had never consciously focused on. Something he’d never acknowledged. Like he was on the precipice of realizing something he’d kept secret from himself.
He was so close to it that if he kept his focus he might have been able to reach out and grab it. As though it were hovering in the air before him. Balanced on the weight of the wind.
Then Dexter’s eyes widened in shock or fear or embarrassment. Or some other astonished emotion that made absolutely no sense to Loki. Was he really so intimidating? The boy began scrambling to leave with no excuse as to what had set him off. And whatever it was that Loki was close to recognizing was gone. Gone in a metaphysical puff of smoke.
He blinked, slightly dazed. Then he dropped his hand from Dexter’s shoulder and watched, less sympathetically than before, as he grabbed the last of his fliers.
Loki cleared his throat with a cough. “Right. Well.”
What did one say in this sort of situation actually? Clearly the poor boy was mentally disturbed. Pity. It occurred to Loki that a closer connection to the university students might actually benefit him in the election.
But maybe a connection to someone a little less addlepated was a better idea.
“Mind the traffic on your way back to school. Be sure to look both ways before crossing and all that. Those out-of-towners don’t always follow the posted markings.” Lame advice, he knew. But what else could he say? Dexter looked like the kind of person who’d be so mentally preoccupied he’d walk in front of a Greyhound bus.
And Loki didn’t need anymore drama this close to the polls.