The driver of the van and his mate dismantled Peppi’s desk unceremoniously, hauled its three parts down the lift and returned for the armchair and stool. The former smacked his lips appreciatively as he reinserted the cork into the neck of the bottle of Slivovitz which I had asked him to take away with him.
For a while I wandered through the empty rooms, scenes from my many encounters with Peppi and Lucy racing through my mind. It was only after I had pulled the front door shut that I noticed it was raining heavily. Instantly, I realised that I had left my umbrella in the stand in the entrance hall. Looking around me anxiously for cover, my mind strayed to Theophil. At the very same moment I heard a sharp sound and turned to see my umbrella hanging from the door handle. Had the men put it there?
As I walked down the road, the clouds gathered at the skies turned an ominous dark grey. Soon the howling storm threatened to tear my umbrella from my hand. “What wouldn’t I give for a taxi?” I groaned inwardly, adding spontaneously: “Theophil!”
For a moment, my ears doubted the welcome hum of the approaching car’s engine. Then, as the taxi’s dimmed headlights emerged through the deluge, an immense feeling of gratitude descended on me. Sinking into the comfortable seat, I said to the driver: “Lucky for me you passed by!”
“Quite,” he agreed. He turned and winked; and I realised who he was.
“Thanks for coming to my aid,” I told Theophil.
“Don’t mention it. I had to make certain you would know how to turn to me. Well, to occupy us during this horrid storm, let us take an excursion through human history. It will reinforce your equations!”
“You could write a perfect history of mankind, couldn’t you, Theophil?” I observed, when we were back in present day London.
“Factually, it would be accurate.”
“But?” I asked.
“The interpretation may be faulty. I have not mastered the finer nuances of human machinations. No wonder Fra Diablo’s students were critical of his exposition of the Reformation. One of them went so far as to say that the Herr Professor was naive!”
“But you can read our minds?”
“If I apply myself to the task. When I don’t, I tend to overlook the emotive background to human events.”
“This, then, is why you wanted Peppi, with his keen understanding of human nature, to join your ranks.”
As we continued en route, a strange thought – initially just a vague notion – began to form in my mind. Soon a barrage of ideas was tumbling through my mind, but, recalling Theophil’s grave warning, I checked myself. When I was ready, I got his attention.
“I believe I have hit on a sequence establishing that perfection is unattainable.”
“Let’s have it.” I sensed his excitement.
“Perfection can exist only when the whole universe is flawless – without even a hint of discord. The very notion of imperfection existing side by side with perfection establishes that perfection has not been reached!”
“Well?” he prompted.
“Movement in space and in time is the essence of the universe. Even the galaxies keep expanding as time moves on! A static state is incompatible with the nature of the universe. Indeed, the absence of movement, in what we regard as a perfect static state, would be a flaw and hence an imperfection.”
“And your conclusion?”
“A state of perfection is imperfect!”
The taxi came to a gentle halt on an isolated unearthly plane and Theophil, in his traditional form, materialised beside me. Knowing that my thoughts had been sparked off by his proximity, I said, my voice charged with emotion: “Thank you for opening my eyes – eyes that observed but didn’t perceive!”
“You didn’t need much help. You were ready,” he answered.
“You, Theophil, are searching for answers to questions that are still imponderable. Are you, then, looking for clues to events preceding your own materialisation?”
“Mine and His: I look for data pertaining to an era beyond the discernible horizon.”
“And I shall be with you as you continue searching.”
“You will,” he said eagerly. “But remember, there are no guarantees: we, too, may stray!”
“The road to El Dorado is paved with gold even if the destination remains illusory,” I told him.
“You have spoken wisely,” he affirmed happily.
Looking out of the window, I observed that the taxi had once again merged with the flow of traffic. Back I was in our world. However, my route into the future had been sanctioned.