Ringing True

trigger warning: Mental Health, Gore

“Professor?” A voice peeped from the darkness in front of me. I cleared my throat and looked around. Silhouette faces and soft coughs haunted me from a yawning dark sea.

“John, you alright?” A hand touched my arm, warm and kind, with an expensive looking ring on one of the fingers. I knew this woman’s face. Brenda? No, her eyes were too soft, too gentle to be Brenda’s. Barbara, that was it. Kind woman, didn’t we work together? “John?” She repeated, and then gestured down to my hands. There was paper in it. I liked the feeling of it, the texture of it, the weight of a stack of papers. It felt like I was smart, like I had the secrets to the universe in my hands.

I glanced at the pages and cleared my throat, I should say something. I looked back to Brenda, no, Barbara who returned a comforting look. Written at the top of the paper, “A Treatise on the Evolution of Game Theory in the digital age.” I wiped my brow, thats some heavy stuff, I guess they want me to just read the paper. I started with the title, as one always should. I could bring no confidence to my words, I didn’t know about the topic, so of course I stumbled over a couple words. Why was I even reading this? “Nash’s theorem proves ever more powerful as …” I continued.

A squeaky voice came again from the darkness, “Professor, can you explain Nash’s theorem?”

It was an easy concept. “John Nash you see, was a … a, uh…” It took a few seconds to realize I was utterly and completely lost. Who was Nash again? Did I go to school with him? Wait, I’m John, but I'm not Nash. Bright, burning light reflected off my glasses and covered my face. Instinctively I jumped back, the smart deer fleeing from the car. Up on the screen that was apparently behind me was a simple table. “Jail Time” was written at the top. Four boxes, each with a set of numbers in them. The top left one seemed good, both numbers were 1’s, so I guess only 1 year of jail time for two people. The bottom right seemed the worst, both numbers were 2’s, two years of jail time for two people.

“Nash’s theorem states that…” Thank god for Barbara chiming in. I could always rely on her. I watched her speak; she was smart, elegant, and factual. I remembered the first time I had seen her speak, but she wasn’t standing beside me, but she was lit up like she is now. I see her face so clearly, but everyone else around her blurs into the tables and chairs. Right! She was a student! Was she my student? I’m a professor so she must have been. Wow, that's pretty impressive, student now becoming the master. She must’ve written the paper I’m reading, I should probably talk to her after this class and make sure I understand the material before I give this presentation again. A click rang out through an abrupt silence. Darkness, then light flashed my face again, the picture beside me changed.

Barbara continued to explain more about whatever the paper was about. “So the best option is always to defect, to betray the other. The prisoner who confesses gets either 0 years of jail time if the other stays silent, or 2 years if the other also confesses.” Jeez, seeing her speak up there, so confident, so intelligent, if only I wasn’t married. Brenda would be waiting for me after this, her mean eyes judging me. I could hear her now, “you stumbled through all your words, and you didn’t stand up straight, what would the people think of you.” That bright red lipstick dripped blood from every sharp word. Why did I marry her?

“Well how much do you trust the other person is the crux of it,” Barbara said, giving me a wink. Why wouldn’t I have married Barbara. “If you both don’t betray the other, then you only get 1 year, but if they betray you, you get 5 years and they get none.” Jeez, is she beautiful. No this is wrong, I have a wife. I made a commitment. Besides, I saw the ring, Barbara was married. Probably better to not go down that rabbit hole, I say to myself, as she answered a couple more clarifying questions.

“Please continue professor,” she smiles and touches my arm. I feel alive again. She steps back, and I step forward to the podium. I begin to read the incomprehensible again.

“John von Neumann first published his paper in 1928…” So many Johns in this game theory field. I should’ve published a paper on game theory. I drone on for an eternity, tripping and stumbling over my words. Finally someone has the grace to stop me.

“Thank you professor.” Oh, did I finish already? “You can sit.” I look over at Barbara, she smiles and pulls out a chair for me. Sweet relief, how long was I standing up there? I hope it wasn’t boring. Kids need to get an education, and a bored student is a disengaged student, barely a student at all.

“Is this your wife professor?” A face asks me, I don’t remember this face. They hold up a picture. Yup that is definitely Brenda, mean eyes, and a pinched fake smile. She never was very happy. Why did she marry me? I nodded to the darkness and they pulled the picture away. Warmth spread to my arm again, a soft hand rested there, and I met Barbara’s eyes again.

“And you confirm this is your paper, yes?” The voice asked again. A bit rude of a student to ask. I assume it is Barbara’s based on how much she knows, but I flip through to the final page to see the name at the foot of the paper. “Yes.” She answered for me. “There seems to be a couple pages missing,” I say out loud. I feel her grip tighten on my arm. Was I not supposed to say that?

“Indeed, and is this your missing page professor?” They hand me a bag with a piece of paper sealed inside. Red blotches and smears coat the pages, but I can clearly see my name at the footer. I nod and they take the page back away from me.

“Was that blood?” I ask Barbara, my pulse quickening, but she doesn’t seem to pay attention, she was listening to the man in the darkness. I look at Barbara’s hand on my arm, now gripping so tightly, little rivulets of crimson appear beneath her nails. I’ve seen her hands bloody before. Where have I seen that?

The assembly gasps as some other speaker takes the stage next to us. I can’t see what they’re gasping about but I didn’t hear anything particularly interesting. I’m still trying to figure out where I’ve seen her hands covered in blood, but also dirt. She was shoveling somewhere, looking gorgeous, lit up by sunlight. I can see her smiling at me, but.

“I do apologize, your Honor, but due to the severity of the crime, I feel it necessary to show these photos.” The man next to us on the stage says to us. He holds up a photo of a woman's head surrounded by dirt and weeds, bloody and twisted in pain. I know this face, I know those mean eyes. Brenda, my wife. My wife!? I ask to see the photo. It is of Brenda’s severed head. I dropped it in shock.

I look at Barbara, I can see her now, holding the shovel, back lit by the fading sun. Even covered in blood and sweat she looked beautiful. But my memory follows the shovel down to the dark earth it sits in. I see a hand, and a wedding ring partially covered by the dirt. I bought that ring downtown. It was expensive. Barbara sits beside me, her kind soft eyes harden. I yank my arm away, “what, what have you done?” She looks at me aghast, confused.

I cry out and reach for the picture of Brenda. How could I have been so confused? Barbara was an awful woman, a terrible student. I remember her needing to study late into the night at my house. I remember her asking to be taught a lesson. “You killed my wife?!” I shouted at her. All chaos erupted around us. The students poured out from the darkness to surround her. Barbara cried, and looked confused as some bigger and burly students took her away.

“John! John what? John why?!” She continued to scream as she was taken from the room. Another sharp cracking sound rang out, something hammering that made me wince. The rest of the time is a blur of people surrounding me and asking me questions. I can’t quite remember what they asked, but they did let me hold onto the picture of my poor sweet wife.

They told me I was free to go, whatever that meant. Like you could keep a person in a classroom longer than they wished. Though some of my students probably should have been locked in now that I think about it. There was that one girl in my class that was always so sharp, so witty, and very easy on the eyes if you don’t mind me saying. Gosh I can see her face, it always lit up the room. What was her name again? Brenda?