In the silence in the wake of Bae’s last statement, everyone becomes aware of a steady tapping coming from the door. Following the sound to its source, you are surprised to find Vic Vic standing in the pub doorway tapping his umbrella against the jamb to remove rainwater.
”Professor,” says Aileen, “how long have you been standing there?”
”Oh, long enough, long enough,” Vic Vic mutters. He paces forward steadily, swinging his umbrella, until he reaches the table with Sparrar and Bae. First he addresses Sparrar. “Pedestals,” he begins. “Pedestals are not the most comfortable space to occupy. Certainly, they raise one above the crowds, but they are most often employed as a device for displaying treasures.”
”And right enough, Bae is a treasure,” says Sparrar.
Vic Vic waves the objection aside. “Aileen here is a treasure, Adrian is a treasure. I am willing to believe that brushed up sufficiently, you too could be a treasure.”
Adrian raises a hand.
”Yes, dear boy!” says Vic Vic.
”While I would never suggest that I am in any way orthodox,” there is a sigh of laughter from the goth crowd at Adrian’s statement, “what you say brings to mind Origen’s theory of apocatastasis, wherein all creatures, even Satan himself, shall be in the end redeemed.”
Vic Vic nods. “It’s a fair analogy, but perhaps my thesis is a little more radical. I am not here to condemn Sparrar as a criminal, but rather to educate and hopefully enlighten, or at the very least make him see what pain he is causing Bae.”
There is a murmur of approval across the room. Jinge wanders back in baffled. “Did I miss something?”
”Please take a seat, Jinge,” says Vic Vic. He addresses the pub once again. “Let us consider the example of Jinge here. No, no, don’t laugh! Because I happen to know that behind this simple exterior lies the soul of a poet. Jinge and Adrian have more in common than might meet the eye.”
“This was exactly Bae’s motive,” you speak up, uncertain of the attention at first. “She intended to prove to herself, and indeed to me, that Sparrar was not the thug that I believed,” I nod towards Sparrar, “no offense meant!”
“None taken!” Sparrar mutters.
”And you think I was naive to believe that?” says Bae. “Maybe I was, and maybe I was too quick to get defensive when I found that his carapace was far harder to crack than I had hoped.”
”What’s a carapace?” whispers Sparrar.
”It’s like a shell,” says Jinge.
”At the risk of… lecturing all of you,” says Vic Vic, “I will plead with all of you young people assembled here: you goths in the pool room, you casuals flirting with the ravers, you punks trying to imagine a better world. Please try to see the best in each other, and if you can’t manage that, please try to give each other some space. Other than when you’re at the bar of course. It’s a free for all moshpit over there.”
Sparrar shakes his head and walks out of the pub. The conversations start up again across the rooms, and Aileen reassumes her rightful place at the bar.
Vic Vic is approaching, holding a piece of paper in his hand. (goto 100)