GUT – Chapter 9

Theodor Saint sat cross-legged on his desk facing the slit of window that peeped out over the lawn. He was finding it hard to concentrate. The sheep would come by soon, he thought. It was mid-spring, and they were always brought over to graze the lawns of the G.U.T. before the grass grew too high. 

He had kept his composure when in Dr van Arroz’s office, had even gone to the right edge of heavy-handed, and now he was plain exhausted. He closed his eyes and focussed on an imaginary dot in the middle of his mind. 

He needed to talk to Princess Rejoo, his niece halfway around the world. It was for her that he had insisted on staying on in his office cum laboratory. He still needed six months to finalise a halfway decent working prototype of the Care Bracelet.

“It’s the perfect solution,” Princess had said, albeit via brain transmission to her uncle. “You must find a way to develop it. The kids can wear them on their wrists and they’ll work from wherever they are.”

“Mmmm. It would have to block certain messages. There’s a lot of junk buzzing around in one’s head, and heaven knows how we’ll handle the jokes and the hoaxes.”

“Don’t be so negative,” Princess’ voice beamed into The Saint’s mind.

It’s all for Princess and her cause, Theodor Saint thought, and began chanting his mantra “Posi-ti-vize and you will devise. Positivize and you …” 

Behind his closed eyelids he felt the sun being blocked out and opened his eyes in the middle of “will”. 

A pair of brown eyes in a white face that peeped out of a tumble of fair curls was staring at him. Who’s that? he thought.

“It’s me, Mr Saint, Pippa Sandberg.”

She heard me?

“Of course, I heard you,” Pippa said. “I’ve been looking everywhere for your office. Luckily, the sheep are back.”

The sheep?

“They must like you. They all seemed to cuddle about your window. No one would even notice it.”

But then how …?

“Did I?” Pippa raised one hand to shade her eyes and peer into the darkened office. “I like sheep,” she laughed. “Can I come in?”

Theodor Saint looked about him. His turban was hanging in a dozen folds over one chair. I’m not dressed, he thought.

“Course you are,” Pippa said. “I could squeeze through the window …”