Tag Archives: D’arby

07/09/2011

The Inklings: Chapter 10

By Anna

John met his father at the pizza place in the morning. John had hoped that his father would quickly show him where things were and leave, so he could call D’arby to come and help, but strangely John’s father seemed to want to give John as much help as he could and by the time John could call D’arby to tell him that the coast was clear, John’s father had already explained everything. There were good systems in place for ordering ingredients, preparing food, cleaning, staffing and even washing the table cloths. John didn’t think there was much for him to do after all. He could hardly believe that things were going so well. The only problem he could see was that the turnover was already so high. John didn’t see how the restaurant had capacity to make and sell any more pizzas.

That night, while John and D’arby watched over the restaurant, John asked D’arby “How are we going to make more money than the restaurant already does?”

D’arby laughed. “Did your Dad say it had to be a statistically significant increase in profits? Did he say that profits had to increase above the average monthly profit, last month’s profit, or the profit for the same month last year? Did he say the profit had to increase through increased sales? As long as we make five cents more than whatever he was expecting then you can say you have met the challenge” answered D’arby. “If we don’t sell more pizza, we can just decrease your salary.”

“Fair enough” said John, while thinking that he’d better ask D’arby to write down what he had just said.

The next day as John walked to the pizza place, something strange happened to him, something that would make him high all night.

When he got back to D’arby’s flat after work John knew that D’arby would be asleep but he didn’t care. He had to tell D’arby what had happened to him that day, so he shook D’arby until he woke up.

“What is it?” said D’arby. He thought that something terrible must have happened. “Have the police come to get you? Did you burn the restaurant down?”

“Ha ha. No! Something WONDERFUL happened. I have to tell you about it” said John and he started to dance around the room with his arms floating up and down.

“What have you taken? Are you drunk?” asked D’arby. He was really disappointed.

“No! I just saw something wonderful on the way to work”

“What?” asked D’arby, although he still didn’t believe that John was sober.

“A beautiful woman” said John

“Haven’t you ever seen one before?” asked D’arby. He was really annoyed, but still not sure what was going on.

“Not like this…but that’s not the important part” said John

“What is the important part then?” asked D’arby, and he sighed.

“She looked at me. She looked at me like I was a normal person, and she smiled!” said John

“Great!” said D’arby sarcastically. “Good for you. Now go to sleep. I’m tired” and he turned off the light.

The next morning John still hadn’t calmed down. When D’arby got up he found that John had cleaned the kitchen and was ironing clothes on the carpet.

“Why are you doing that?” asked D’arby. D’arby had a thing against ironing and he hadn’t even known that there was an iron in the flat.

“You don’t have an ironing board, so I have to use the carpet” said John, but when he saw D’arby’s expression he realized he’d given the wrong answer and quickly added “I’m trying to fill in time until the medical centre opens”

“Why are you going there?” asked D’arby

“I want to check that I haven’t got any STDs before I bump into that woman again” said John. Although John tried to sound casual as he said this, he was very worried. The thought of a relationship with someone had made him consider what he’d been up to while he was an addict.

D’arby knew that this was a very serious topic, but he couldn’t help laughing.

“What?” asked John

“Have you talked to her yet?” asked D’arby

“Not yet” said John, “But I might today if I see her on the way to work again”

“Good luck then, with her and at the medical centre” said D’arby and he left for uni, rolling his eyes.

 

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18/08/2011

The Inklings: Chapter 8

By Anna

As much as D’arby respected maths, he had to admit that sometimes one plus one did not equal two. He and John were one example.

D’arby always had ideas, but rarely bothered to do much with them. John was always wanting to do something but never knowing what to do. John was amazed with the things D’arby said. D’arby was amazed with the things John did. The things D’arby said triggered John to act and the things that John did made D’arby think and say more. They were like a runaway reaction.

John insisted that now that D’arby had developed his special pills and done some testing (on him and John) it was time for him to use them for something good. D’arby had been thinking of finding a job where he could continue this research. He hoped to start real trials and eventually (maybe in 15 years) his new cure for addiction would be manufactured legally by some big drug company and sold in chemists. However, this plan was full of obstacles. First D’arby would have to finish his PhD and then the examiners would have to pass him. Then he would have to find a suitable research position, then he’d have to find funding for his project and only then would the real work start! And what if after all that the pills didn’t really work or made people sick? Why was it that such a huge discovery could make D’arby’s life so much harder?

John laughed at D’arby’s idea for the pills and came up with a much simpler plan, a plan that would get results faster, but was probably not a good idea in the long term. John’s father owned a pizza restaurant, and John had recently been walking past it in the hope of bumping into his Dad. While doing this he had noticed that there was an ad in the window for a manager. John hoped that now he wasn’t using drugs anymore his father might be convinced to let him run the pizza restaurant. Then John would just add the pills to the pizza dough (they were fizzy so they might help make the dough rise). Then anyone who bought pizza would have all their addictions cured. John and D’arby could watch what happened and wouldn’t have to tell anyone anything. They could also make their living this way, as long as the pizza was nice enough for people to want to buy it. John reckoned that the hardest part of his plan would be convincing his father to let him have the restaurant. Then the second hardest part would be running the restaurant. Making the special ingredient would be easy because D’arby knew how. D’arby could have a special lab at the back of the restaurant. The pills were mostly made of really common things and needed only a couple of chemicals that you couldn’t easily buy. D’arby had already mentioned that he had enough of the hard-to-get chemicals left over from his legitimate experiments to make millions of the pills. John didn’t think it would be too hard for D’arby to sneak these chemicals home – they’d probably only be thrown out after D’arby left uni anyway.

At first, D’arby was horrified by John’s idea. It was a week since they’d first met. John was still off the drugs and not even tempted to go back. D’arby expected that John wouldn’t need a second dose. The pills were meant to work on the brain in a permanent way and D’arby couldn’t see how the change could be reversed, but he wanted to wait and see a bit longer until he was completely satisfied of that. D’arby wished he’d known John better before he’d taken the pills so he could see if there had been any other changes. He was particularly interested to know if John would have made such ridiculous suggestions before, because D’arby was worried that since he had also taken the pills he might also start thinking that it was a good idea to lace pizza with the special ingredient. D’arby worried about this because, despite his initial horror, after considering John’s plan for a couple of hours, D’arby had begun to find certain aspects of the plan appealing. Managing a restaurant would solve their money problems. John had moved in with D’arby but the rent would soon be due and D’arby didn’t have any money left. The other thing that appealed to D’arby was being able to set up his own lab. It was hard to make his pills at uni. People were so nosy. He had to be very careful not to leave anything lying around that might lead the other people working in the lab to ask questions about what he was doing. It was getting particularly difficult now that his official experiments were finished. D’arby was supposed to be spending all his time working at his computer now, not down in the lab.

So, D’arby ended up agreeing with John that they should at least try to get John’s father to let them run the pizza restaurant. Then when they had some money they could decide what to do next. Putting his special pills in the pizzas was still horrific to D’arby. That was a very unethical thing to do and not very scientific either. How would they even know if anyone was cured? They wouldn’t be able to give the customers questionnaires to fill out before and after.

So John called his father, but not before he got his sister Emily to mention to his parents that John wasn’t a drug addict anymore. Perhaps it would have been better if Emily had really believed this first. She had only seen John once since he’d taken the special pills, and although John did seem different, it was not enough to convince Emily. She was worried that John was just playing a trick on her and her parents in order to get some money out of them, although she couldn’t really see how running a pizza restaurant would get John money in a way that was quick enough to satisfy a drug craving.

“Hello Dad!” said John

“What do you want?” asked his father.

“I want to be the manager of your pizza place” said John

“No way!” said John’s father

“But I need a job!” whined John. “Nobody else will give me one and I need something to do all day, otherwise I’ll end up in trouble again.”

“That’s your problem!” said John’s father. “Don’t try to make me feel guilty. I’ve tried to help you many times and each time you just used me. I’ve given up trying to help you now.”

John knew his father hadn’t given up yet though, because his father would have hung up by now if it was true.

“Just give me one month! Let me show you? Please?” said John.

There was a long pause. Just when John was starting to think his father had walked away from the phone he said “Ok then. One month. If profits are up after a month you can stay.”

“Woo hoo!” said John after he hung up the phone. Then he did a victory lap of the flat and wondered whether D’arby would mind that they started work tomorrow. It was meant to be John’s job, but he needed D’arby’s help to get him organized. Once they had established a routine, John would do all the work (apart from making the pills) and D’arby could go back to uni. John had already been experimenting with his special pizza dough. Even with the fizz of the pills, it still needed yeast to rise, but John thought the pills made the dough taste a bit better, or at least they didn’t make the dough taste funny.

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18/07/2011

The Inklings: Chapter 5

By Anna

D’arby was used to being called a dreamer. It was usually said in a condescending tone, but it never really annoyed him. What did annoy D’arby was when someone told him that he was dreaming if he thought one person could change things. D’arby was disgusted with people who gave up without even trying and even more disgusted with those who thought that discouraging comments were wise advice. He considered these people to be free-riders. He knew that they must have benefited at one time or another because of the actions of someone who did try to do good things despite being only one person and despite knowing that almost everybody thought that what they were attempting couldn’t be done. D’arby thought that people who said that things couldn’t be done were just making excuses for their own reluctance to do anything. Carrying on as usual and letting other people do all the important things and make all the important decisions was the lazy way out.

Despite his belief that he should be trying to do something good, D’arby often found that he wasn’t doing much at all. To decide what he was going to do about his PhD D’arby had bought a train ticket home to his parent’s house. While he was there he did a lot of walking in the bush around the house. That gave him time to think and he realized that at uni he’d been made ashamed of his view that he could make a difference. People accused him of being arrogant. Perhaps this being ashamed was what had gone wrong. D’arby decided he wasn’t going to let himself be ashamed of it anymore.

This renewed belief, that everybody could do something and that it was their responsibility to do so, was what gave D’arby the strength to think about his PhD in a new light.

First, he went over the past few years and remembered everything he had thought and felt. He remembered how when his supervisor had first complained that D’arby’s work wasn’t progressing well he’d thought himself lazy and then as more time passed D’arby had thought himself stupid. D’arby now realized that his laziness and inability to achieve what his supervisor wanted weren’t the problems but symptoms of the problem.

The real problem was that D’arby didn’t think his research was worth doing. He’d chosen the project because it sounded interesting (his supervisor would have been equally good at a sales career). D’arby wanted to be able to understand this complicated chemical reaction, but he didn’t think it would make much difference whether the answers were known or not – the industry had existed for years by trial and error and would keep on going without knowing D’arby’s answers (and D’arby wasn’t even sure that he wanted the industry to keep going at all – why hadn’t he considered that before!).

It was not until now, nearly three years later, that D’arby realized what he had gotten himself into. D’arby looked up at the cold blue sky and asked why he hadn’t been able to work out what was wrong until now when it was so clear. Now that D’arby could finally see the problem, he knew what he had to do about it.

“Less worrying and more action” said D’arby to himself. He’d decided to just get on and finish his thesis. He’d do whatever he had to do to get out of that awful place. If he stopped thinking about how awful it was and just concentrated, surely that would help him! But to help him get through the awful stuff he needed something else. This something else was D’arby’s secret project. It was only a few months after he started his PhD that he became interested in other research. When he should have been looking up papers relating to his project he couldn’t help looking at publications on other topics. His secret project was the research that he really wanted to do. D’arby’s deal with himself was that for every week he was productive at uni he could spend the weekend on his secret project. If he made his supervisor smile he could work four days in the next week on his PhD project and three on his secret project.

However, D’arby found that the best way to make his supervisor smile was not to try to do what his supervisor wanted. Like so many problems that are difficult to solve, D’arby’s PhD problem had a solution that was the opposite of what you would think it would be. Instead of trying to make his supervisor happy, what D’arby had to do was to ignore his supervisor completely and do what he thought should be done. This was what got him results, and the results made his supervisor happy. Every week or so, when D’arby bothered to go to see his supervisor (there were no more regular meetings since D’arby had stopped going to them) he would show him new and exciting results and they both knew that they would soon have enough for a very good thesis.

D’arby’s only problem was that his scholarship had just run out and so he’d have to get a job soon, but he was too busy already! D’arby was very excited by both his projects, but became quite stressed when he looked at his bank balance. He was frustrated that as soon as he climbed over one barrier, a new one appeared. D’arby’s supervisor assumed that D’arby had saved money in anticipation of this, or that D’arby’s family could help him out.

Maybe D’arby was too good at hiding his distress and behaving “normally” because nobody noticed that something was wrong with D’arby – not even his friends, even though D’arby mentioned to them that he’d soon run out of money and didn’t know what to do. They found it easy to assume that he’d be ok since he still managed to smile and laugh. The truth was probably that D’arby’s friends were too absorbed in their own problems to be able to donate any thought to his. And what problems!

“Cate and Suzy hate each other but both of them are my friends (although I prefer Cate). Should I invite both of them to my party, or just Cate?”

“My computer monitor has broken and I want a flat one but my supervisor doesn’t agree and says I should use his old boxy one, but that will leave me no space on my desk.”

“I’m going to Nepal for six weeks. Should I go to India after Nepal, or should I go to Thailand and lie on the beach for two weeks?”

“I can’t afford the house I want. I want three bedrooms on a quiet street in a nice suburb, within walking distance to a train station and restaurants, but I don’t want a terrace house and there must be off-street parking for the car because of the insurance and a garden because what’s the point of a house if not to have a garden?”

And so on. D’arby noticed that the more a person thought they knew, the more they had to analyse the minor things – as if each decision they made was a competition – a chance to display their superior intelligence. But spending time analysing minor things took up so much time that there was none left for action. D’arby wondered if the most important thing he’d learnt at uni was that if you take long enough trying to make a decision you will find you no longer have to make a decision because your options will have all evaporated. Not that D’arby minded discussing things with his friends at uni. He had learnt a lot from them, but he just hadn’t done much.

D’arby hated applying for jobs, but it taught him another important lesson. It seemed that the longer you spent at uni, the less employable you became outside universities. To be fair, he’d been a bit fussy in the jobs he’d applied for and hadn’t spent much time looking, but after sending out applications for two months, he hadn’t been offered a single interview. He was lacking experience and there were no part time jobs where his qualifications were essential. He knew his approach to job seeking was wrong but he didn’t know what to do about it. As usual, D’arby would find that when what he was doing felt wrong, it was because it was the wrong thing to be doing.

Afternoon was turning into evening on a Friday in spring, and D’arby was walking up the street to get a Thai takeaway. The sunlight was amazing. It was so golden that it made everything it hit look beautiful. The street normally looked shabby and rundown, but in that light it was the perfect street – where perfect, smiley people lived their happy lives and never worried about anything.

John wasn’t happy though. He was standing in the lane way, waiting. He peeped around the corner saw D’arby coming along the street, not paying attention to anything but his own thoughts. D’arby was confused when he found himself being dragged by the neck into the lane way. He thought it must be some sort of joke until he realized that there was a knife against his throat. John was expertly going through D’arby’s pockets with his left hand, while keeping half an eye on D’arby and half an eye on the knife. John soon discovered that D’arby hadn’t brought his wallet (not that there was any money in it) and had just enough money in his pocket to pay for a Thai takeaway. John started swearing in frustration but continued to search D’arby’s other pockets. “Bingo” said John when he found a little snap-lock bag with some pills in it. He wasn’t sure what they were but they looked homemade and so were probably illegal. John let go of D’arby, dexterously opened the little bag and popped a pill into his mouth.

John felt the pill start fizzing as it got to his stomach. It reminded him of the time he’d swallowed the kind of aspirin tablets that are supposed to be dissolved in water before you take them. Then John realized that D’arby hadn’t run away – he was still there, watching John.

”Why is he watching me?” thought John. Then he began to panic. What had he just eaten? Was this man a murderer who had just poisoned him? John could imagine that there were plenty of people who thought it would be funny to kill a drug addict. The police would probably be grateful for a drop in theft. John fell to his knees and stuck his finger down his throat, but he was in too much of a panic to be able to vomit.

D’arby could see that John was panicking and began to panic too.

“Calm down” said D’arby. “It wasn’t poison” said D’arby, but his tone was more hopeful than convincing.

The fizzing had stopped. John sat down on the footpath and began to feel better. He was actually beginning to feel pretty good. He wasn’t experiencing anything euphoric, but he felt calmer than he had for a long time.

For years John had been racing through life, living from craving to craving. Now, for some strange reason, he felt like he didn’t have to do that anymore. No more rushing. He had plenty of time to change things.

John could have spent hours sitting there, reflecting on who he was and where he’d gone wrong. D’arby was getting bored and hungry though. He cautiously tweaked the $10 note from John’s hand (John paid no attention) and tried to decide what to do next. D’arby wanted to go and get his Thai takeaway, but he was scared that John would be gone by the time he got back so he encouraged John to stand up and come with him. John was so caught up in his own thoughts that, although he was aware of D’arby, he didn’t care where he was taking him.

John remembered how he and his father had seen an alcoholic sitting drunk in the gutter when John was about 6 years old. John had asked his father what the man was doing and his father had said “I’m sure that man was born without problems, so he made them for himself”. John hadn’t taken that warning from his father. As a teenager John had never appreciated how lucky he was to have a bright mind and everything he needed. Instead John had decided to make his own problems. He didn’t talk to his parents anymore – they didn’t want to talk to him.

D’arby and John sat in the park. D’arby had one takeaway meal and two forks. John was drawn out of his deep thoughts by the smell of food. Like D’arby, John was very hungry.

Now that it looked like John wasn’t going to die D’arby felt very excited. He would have got up and jumped up and down a few times if he didn’t think that John would take the opportunity to eat all the food. Perhaps it was too soon to tell, but it looked like his pills had cured a drug addict. He was amazed and how calm and normal John seemed now. He’d been so scary before.

“How do you feel?” asked D’arby

“What’s your name?” asked John. He had never been very comfortable talking about how he was feeling, and asked the question in an annoyed tone.

“D’arby” said D’arby. “So how do you feel?”

“Well, I’m John, thanks for asking” replied John, but D’arby didn’t care that John thought he was being rude. D’arby never paid much attention to names and he didn’t think that remembering a person’s name was very important. It was just something people did to trick you into thinking that they cared about you.

“I thought you were trying to kill me” said John

“Well, I could say the same about you” said D’arby,

“What did you give me then?” asked John. He still wasn’t sure he could trust D’arby, or that he was going to be alright.

“I didn’t give you anything. You stole my pills” complained D’arby.

“You know what I mean!” said John “What was it?”

“Something I came up with in the lab” said D’arby. “I’ve been trying to make something to cure addiction.”

“So you’re a doctor then?” asked John, feeling relieved

“No, an engineer” replied D’arby

John scratched his head, with a pained expression on his face. Everything had seemed to clear a few minutes ago, but now nothing was making sense.

“Have you tested the pills? What’s going to happen to me?” asked John.

“Not really, but I’ve eaten heaps of them and nothing’s happened to me” said D’arby.

Then John started laughing at himself for caring about what he’d taken.  After everything else, what difference would it make? He was happy that he felt like caring again.

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05/07/2011

The Inklings: Chapter 3

By Anna

D’arby left his supervisor’s office feeling more deflated than he thought was possible. He’d felt so well prepared before the meeting. He thought he’d been getting somewhere with his work. Now he felt like a complete loser, someone stuck in a hole that he was making deeper every time he tried to climb out. D’arby couldn’t believe he would ever finish his PhD. Why did he keep trying? There were many good reasons to keep trying – because of what people would say if he gave up, because of what his mother would say, because of what his father would think but not say, because it would be his first big failure, because he didn’t want to have to explain in job interviews what he’d wasted the last couple of years doing. But the real reason was more complicated. It was a mixture of things. D’arby felt he had never been good at finishing things. He had guilty memories of promising projects he’d started but never finished. D’arby didn’t realize it yet, but he was finally learning real perseverance. He also didn’t quite realize that he actually found pleasure in having found a problem that had (so far) out-witted him. He also probably enjoyed the challenge of having a supervisor who he didn’t get along with. It would be a while before D’arby could articulate these reasons though. At that moment he was too busy despairing that there seemed no way out. The older D’arby got, the more he found that life was like that. The things he would most like to change were the hardest – if not impossible – to change.

Before the meeting with his supervisor D’arby was feeling the happiest he’d been for a long time. At last he thought he’d worked out how to get some answers. He thought his work was almost finished. He thought he’d done something good. Then his supervisor told D’arby what he thought about it all. He told D’arby that he’d been wasting time trying to do things that everyone else knew would never work. What D’arby had written was rubbish. He’d proved nothing. D’arby had been wasting time, and he didn’t have much left. Didn’t he know he’d never complete his PhD before his scholarship ran out? What was he doing with his time anyway? D’arby’s supervisor told him to report to him every day and tell him what he wanted to do before he did it, because that was the only way D’arby would ever finish. D’arby had to have some meaningful results to show by that time next week. Then his supervisor finished the meeting with a smile and D’arby tried to give one back.

After the wave of disappointment came the anger, but D’arby didn’t know if he was angry with himself or his supervisor or just the world in general. He realized he needed to ask himself some important questions but was scared of what his answers would be. Was his work crap? Was what he had done wrong? Was it bad supervision or D’arby’s stupidity that had got him into this situation? How could someone with as much potential as D’arby had have got everything so wrong? It was more likely that D’arby was wrong than that his supervisor was wrong though. Or were they both a bit wrong? Or were they both right? Did D’arby really understand his supervisor? Maybe it was just that his supervisor didn’t understand him. D’arby went to sit in the park. After a few minutes of watching the undergraduate students have lunch it occurred to D’arby that he didn’t have to go back into the building. He could just walk away and never return. D’arby was not in the mood for making decisions though. He stared into space and didn’t think anything.

Meanwhile, a man who D’arby hadn’t met yet was running down a nearby street. John was being chased by two police officers on foot and two police cars were trying to cut him off as he ran down laneways, across busy roads and jumped people’s fences. He didn’t even know why they were chasing him, not because he’d never done anything wrong but because he’d done so many things that police didn’t like that he didn’t know which one it was that had made everybody so angry. If he could find somewhere to hide, or make it to a crowded place John would be able to escape capture today. Then he’d sneak off to his sister Emily’s place for a couple of weeks, until things cooled down. His sister lived a quiet, respectable life in a leafy suburb and she had a spare room waiting for him whenever he needed it. She would know he was in trouble when he turned up because he only ever went there when he was in trouble, but she wasn’t allowed to mind because she was his older sister and was supposed to look after him. John never involved his sister when he got arrested. This was not because he wanted to keep her place as a reliable hideout, but because he didn’t want to upset Emily by letting her know what he got up to. She could probably guess, but it was better if she was only able to imagine these things. Seeing them would make everything seem as serious as it really was.

At last John made it to the uni, where he knew many places to hide. John was not very far in front of the police on foot when he made it to a toilet block. One of the cars wasn’t far away either – the siren was very loud. John chose to hide in the female toilets because he was being chased by men. Fortunately the toilets were empty. John went into a cubicle and hoped for the best. There weren’t many other places that John could have gone though and in a couple of minutes he heard the officers announce themselves before coming into the toilet block. John considered trying to push past them but then he noticed the hook on the back of the toilet door. He grabbed it and held himself up so that none of his body was visible above or below the door. Then he gently swung the door open so the officers would be able to see that nobody was sitting on the toilet. Although John was skinny it was an enormous effort for him to be able to hold himself up like that and as soon as the police decided he wasn’t there and walked out John fell to the floor. He was covered with sweat and felt too shaky to walk so he closed the cubicle door and sat there for a while.

When D’arby stood up and walked back to his desk he hoped that somewhere inside himself he really knew what he was doing. He passed John on the way. John had left the toilet block and was heading west. John was jealous when he saw D’arby, who, to John, didn’t seem to have a problem in the world. If D’arby had known what John was thinking maybe he would have tried to explain that being someone whose problems seem insignificant is a problem in itself.

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