Harmony of the Worlds

Kepler's Third Law: The square of the orbital period of a planet is directly proportional to the cube of the semi-major axis of its orbit.

Sunday. Tomorrow was Christmas Eve. He'd always liked this time of year. Though Green was devoid of any religious beliefs and did not celebrate Christmas, back in Ireland his extended family had always used the holiday season for an excuse to have parties and overeat. He missed their boisterous good will and easy acceptance of their strange, half-bred Hinata-jin cousin. He knew the clan of fire demons would eagerly welcome him back without hesitation if he chose to return to Kilkenny, but there were too many dark memories for him to stay in Ireland for long. And while his mother's clan in Japan would take him in, they were far more stand-offish and it would be more out of a sense of obligation rather than genuinely welcoming him. He did not want to go where he was not wanted any more than he wanted to go back to a place that was haunted by the death of his parents.

Jenny Keane listened with sympathy and, rising up in his defense, concluded that Dexter was a complete brat and that Utonium was going to have a devil of a time finding someone willing to tolerate such a child. She asked him to come spend the day but he declined. Her sister was visiting and the last thing they needed was a depressed demon on their hands. Instead he spent the day with his books, listening to music and trying not to think. Unfortunately the classical music station he tuned into decided now was a good time to play Nessun Dorma. He glared at the radio, silently wishing a pox on Dexter for ruining the piece of music for him forever.

Sleep came easier that night, mostly because he was exhausted from almost no rest the night before. He was deeply asleep when the phone's loud ring yanked him out of a dream. He lifted his head. The room was dark. It was either very late or very early. He thought it must be the school system calling for a substitute teacher before he remembered that school was out for Christmas. With a groan he fumbled for the phone, picking it up on the fourth or fifth piercing ring.

"'ello," he mumbled.

"Mr. Green," said a revoltingly alert, completely annoyed, and heavily accented young voice. "You will please explain to me why you had me read Kepler's Harmonices Mundi without first having versed myself in Astronomia nova."

Kilroy Green lay in speechless disbelief, staring stupidly at the phone's glowing keypad. Dexter?

"Mr. Green?"

"D-Dexter?"

"What?"

"What time is it?"

There was a pause, and then Dexter demanded, "Does the time make a difference in the answer?"

He glanced at the clock. It was 4:46 in the morning.

"No. What . . . ?"

A small growl was carried over the phone line from Dexter's throat to Kilroy's pointed ear.

"Why didn't you tell me to read Astronomia nova first? It was a necessary foundation for fully understanding and appreciating Kepler's intent with Harmonices Mundi."

He sat up, shocked. "Wait. Wait. Dexter. You read Harmonices Mundi? The whole thing?"

Dexter sounded completely confused. "Why would I read just part of it?"

"And you understood it?"

"Oh, please," was the impatient answer. "But I understood it better after reading Astronomia nova."

He took a deep breath. "I only brought it up because we were discussing the music of the spheres." Discussion. Yes, that was what he would call their little clash. He realized something else. "Wait. You read Astronomia nova, too? It's never been translated into English."

"I had my computer translate it for me. I ask you, Mr. Green, why is it the translation of Astronomia nova generated by Computress would use the word 'earth' instead of 'world' exclusively for mundi whereas the translation of Harmonices Mundi uses 'world'?"

He clearly expected an immediate and detailed explanation even though Kilroy was still trying to drag his muddled brain out of sleep. Part of his mind was occupied with what was being said, another part with how it was said. Dexter's accent put a spin on Latin pronunciation that he had never imagined possible. What he did to English was bad enough. Latin didn't stand a chance.

"Mr. Green?"

"Dexter, it's quarter of five in the morning. Why aren't you asleep?"

"Because I'm awake."

He deserved that, all the way down to the tone of voice that questioned his intelligence.

"I . . . I really can't explain it right now."

"Why not?"

"Because I was asleep."

"But you're not now. You did say that you were at our convenience."

4:46 a.m. was an extremely liberal interpretation of that trite phrase. "Dexter . . ."

"Fine. Come over when you wake up. I have a number of questions for you."

"It's Christmas Eve!"

"Oh. I had no idea that gravity took holidays."

The insufferable little . . . genius.

The boy's voice was full of resolve and a hint of disappointment. "Very well, Mr. Green. You're too busy to discuss physics. I will refrain from making any demands on your time in the future."

"Wait. Please." He pressed a hand to his head, trying to absorb the rapid-fire series of events. "Give me a moment, Dexter."

This was it. His last chance. To get this job - if the possibility was even still on the table - he needed Dexter's respect and the only way he could do would be to come through for him right this instant. He had to look beyond the tone to what was being asked of him and what was being offered. Dexter was reaching out to him, giving him a chance in perhaps the only way that the boy knew how.

"I can come over this morning. I can be at your house by eight."

There was a pause, and then that Soviet Bloc accent grudgingly said, "That would be acceptable."

He resisted the urge to be sharp in his response. "Please tell the Professor that I'll be over. Call me if there's any problem so that we can reschedule the visit. All right?"

"Yes." Dexter hesitated, then added, "Thank you, Mr. Green."

"I'll see you at eight."

"Very well. Eight."

He hung up only after Dexter did and then flopped back into the pillows, staring at the ceiling. What did this mean?

This meant he'd better review Kepler and his laws of planetary motion. It absolutely would not due to be caught off his guard. He threw the blankets aside and got to work.

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

"I'm very sorry he called you at such an ungodly hour, Kilroy," said Utonium, apologizing for the third or fourth time. With a long yawn he added, "I had no idea he'd be up so early."

He smiled, nursing his cup of steaming coffee. "I don't mind. Honestly," he added when the Professor made a wry face. "It's been a very educational morning for us both, I think."

"He keeps extreme hours, I'll admit." Still in his pyjamas and bathrobe, unshowered and unshaved, Professor Utonium rubbed his forehead and ran a hand though his mussed hair. In comparison Kilroy Green was the picture of professional appearance and composure. "I can't really let the girls go flying off any time day or night and expect him to keep to a set schedule. It wouldn't be fair."

"Most parents wouldn't see things that way."

"Most parents don't have super heroes and super geniuses living under their roof. I have to make a lot of allowances." He searched for a spot to put his coffee cup on the paper-strewn dining room table. Dexter had claimed the room for an impromptu physics classroom while Utonium had slept in unawares. At least there had been ample supplies of coffee ready when he had wandered downstairs and found a demon in the dining room, drawing charts and talking gravity with his ward. "It's my fault, actually. He had some questions about astrophysics I couldn't answer and I told him to contact you. I had no idea he'd call so early. So long as he eats and sleeps enough and there's no structural damage to the house, I don't hound him about a schedule when he's on break from school. His parents didn't exactly enforce the rules for him and his older sister very evenly, and I won't be a hypocrite. However I do promise to make sure he keeps the phone calls to more reasonable times."

Utonium was rambling, still only half awake. Kilroy hid his pleasure by taking another mouthful of coffee. "I'd rather he call and get his answers as opposed to getting frustrated."

"Don't let him hear that," warned the Professor.

"Professor . . . so does this mean I'll be tutoring Dexter?"

The scientist smiled and yawned. "The girls gave him a talking-to to get him over his ego fit after you left Saturday. As soon as he figured out that you knew more about physics than he did, he took what you said as his first homework assignment and got cracking. Leaving him to stew like you did was probably the best thing you could have done. So I'd say that's a yes."

"I thought I ruined everything."

"You were the only one I interviewed who didn't let him steamroll you. He needs that from more adults than me, but not to the point where it breaks his spirit."

"I get the feeling there's more to this story than you're telling."

"A lot more," agreed Utonium, contentedly sipping his coffee.

That was all. Clearly the Professor wouldn't – or couldn't – provide any further details. Still uncertain, Kilroy was about to speak when Dexter returned with an armload of books pilfered from his guardian's office and laboratory.

"Dad, I couldn't find that thermodynamics book I was reading the last time I was here," said Dexter, obviously settling in for a siege.

"Probably it got mixed in with the books in the living room," the Professor replied, amused as Dexter hauled around his own weight in paper. "Mr. Green wants to know if he's got the job as your physics teacher."

Dexter paused, frowned, looked back and forth between them as if they should have known the answer all along, and railed in dramatic indignation. "What? He already gave me homework!"

"I wouldn't go that far," Kilroy said mildly.

Dexter came dangerously close to a smirk as he faced the demon. His Russian accent was thick as he snapped, "Fine, Mr. Green. I chose to take you up on your suggested reading."

"You said something about translating Astronomia nova?" wondered Green.

"Ah!" Dexter said, his blue eyes aglow with excitement. "Do you want to see the hard copy?"

"Of course," Green replied, smiling.

He pointed a purple-gloved finger. "Wait here!" ordered Dexter as if Green was going to wander off on him and get lost.

"Thank you," Utonium said quietly, gazing into the hall as Dexter tore down to the lab. "He doesn't get many opportunities to share his accomplishments with people that actually appreciate what he's done. And he doesn't get many opportunities to just be eleven years old."

Kilroy gazed across the table at this most devoted of fathers. "That is a shame."

"Yes, but I'm working on correcting that," the Professor admitted.

"I'm sure you are." He hesitated. "Professor, if you don't mind me asking . . . is Dexter Russian? Or possibly Ruritanian? Pottsylvanian?" He guessed at random, and his companion's amusement grew with each Eastern Bloc country he named.

Utonium chuckled. "He's actually Irish and Scottish. He was born in the Midwest and his family moved close to Downtown when he was still a baby."

"But . . ."

The question of Dexter's accent went unanswered. Seconds later the redhead raced back into the dining room with a printout that he handed to the demon, waiting expectantly. Kilroy turned a page and started reading, an impressed smile displaying his pointed teeth. Utonium set his coffee down and looked at the boy.

"Don't I get a copy?"

"Ack!" barked Dexter and darted out again, grinning happily and giving Kilroy a quick glimpse of what it was about the boy that charmed the Professor so completely. He returned to the translated pages in his hands, admiration filling him. He felt eyes upon him and looked up to see Utonium watching him.

"So how soon can you start, Mr. Green?"

He flashed a smile at the scruffy genius across from him and glanced at the cluttered table. "Immediately, if not sooner."

Pounding feet up the stairs and then Dexter burst back in with a second printout for his father. "See?" he exclaimed, pointing to the copy in his hand. "It says earth, not world, for mundi. Why?"

With a slow, fond smile for his son, Utonium sipped his coffee. "Sooner, please, Kilroy. I don't think any of us can wait for immediately."

-Fin-