Professor Julianus sat in a green velvet armchair in the entrance hall of the library of Alexandria. The black and white marble stretched on high up along the walls. One huge sapphire chandelier hovered in the centre, like crystals floating in water. It turned the black marble into midnight blue and the white marble into an icy blue. It reminded him of lightning, as if the white marble was glowing electric on its own. He had preferred the old light installations, three golden suns that had made the room appear kinder like the sunrise. Nevertheless, it had always been an intimidating hall. He had never liked it. This place was the centre of science, its heartbeat and a place like that should not represent intimidation but inclusion, something like a welcome. But it was the SAM’s party influence on the library of Alexandria, his own influence, as he was a senior member of this noble community. In his later life, he began to hate them but there was nothing he could do. He was just one drop in a tidal wave, a drop that had always been split. He was with the SAM party because he was born into it and raised in their beliefs. However, the more he experienced, and the unkinder life had been to him the deeper this split in his consciousness had grown.
A few days ago, he had been happy about the call from his daughter in law, how she had said that she was sorry and wanted to make up. But he should have known better. She was only in such a good mood because she had had a breakthrough. Once again, his mind was split in two. He realised that this discovery would be a defining moment for science. But he was also upset because she had used him like a tool, like a tweezer to take something dangerous out of a test tube. She had made him call Helios, and now, who knew what would happen. Professor Julianus had decided to show his grandson his mother’s discovery first. Then they could talk family.
He was sad about this plan he had decided on. But this was how it had always been in this family. Science had to come first, and then family and love, whatever that was. Most of all he was tired. He knew he was unable to continue with a divided mind like this for very much longer. He admired his grandson greatly for what he had done. But he could not do it. He was 129 years old, one hundred years older than his grandson. He was so tired.
Suddenly, the big golden gates opened. They had arrived. Professor Julianus stood up very slowly. One of the cell reproductive therapy’s side effects was that the older one became, the quicker everything appeared and one’s own mind and body movements became slower and slower. It was a nuisance, but he had no choice in the matter. It was the only therapy against mortality.
He had a plan, and he knew it all had to be done quickly. He had not much time left. But science would come first and then family. It was the only way he had ever known.