Dark Origins, The Collected Arkham Horror Novellas Volume 1 by unknow

Author:unknow
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Arkham Horror, detective & mystery, anthology, historical fantasy
ISBN: 9781839081194
Publisher: Aconyte Books
Published: 2021-10-04T23:00:00+00:00

Ire of the Void

Richard Lee Byers

Part One

The Barn

Chapter 1

Norman Withers was accustomed to empty seats. He was not a popular instructor, he did not take attendance, and his lectures were redundant with the textbook. Still, today, the classroom was emptier than usual, and for no reason he could think of.

“Mr Davison,” he said, addressing a perpetually sweaty, twitchy student who never missed a single one of Norman’s classes or, in all likelihood, any other professor’s.

Davison gave a start as if he had been caught doing something reprehensible instead of paying scrupulous attention and writing copious notes. “Yes, sir?” he squeaked.

“Where is everyone? Is something else going on today?”

“Well, sir, Claus Schmidt is giving a guest lecture. I think some people went to hear him.” The boy cringed as though he feared Norman would be offended and take out the resentment on him.

In truth, even had Norman been so inclined, he was too busy feeling shocked that he’d heard nothing of this to bother with such a vindictive response. Perhaps, as the secretaries were forever scolding him, he should check the cubbyhole that was his faculty mailbox on days other than payday.

“The Claus Schmidt?” he asked. “The one who collaborates with Albert Einstein?”

If so, this was the physicist widely acclaimed as Einstein’s brilliant young protégé. While still working toward his doctorate, Schmidt had participated in Eddington’s expedition that provided observational verification of general relativity, and had since aided Einstein himself in calculating the cosmological constant and establishing relativistic cosmology. It was extraordinary that such a luminary – a European luminary, at that – had suddenly materialized in Arkham, Massachusetts.

“Yes, sir,” Davison said.

“Where is he speaking? The big auditorium in the Science building?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Class dismissed.”

Norman hurried from the classroom ahead of any of his students, rushed past the foundation for the new observatory, and broke into a run at the Miskatonic University quad, breezing by its silver maples and sycamores. Strolling or lounging on benches, young scholars smirked or chuckled as he dashed past.

Their amusement prompted him to duck into one of the Science building’s men’s rooms and try to make himself presentable. The mirror showed a scarecrow of a man. His scraggly white beard needed trimming, and his hair stuck up every which way. His tie was loose and askew, and his tweed suit had gone weeks without a pressing.

It was too late to remedy all of that, but he would do the best he could. He reached into his pocket, found he had no comb, and smoothed down his hair with his hand. Then he fixed his tie, straightened his lapels, and proceeded to the auditorium. As he reached for the door, laughter pealed on the other side. Apparently, the young physicist seasoned his lectures with humor.

Norman found a seat in the back of the hall. Claus Schmidt was a stout, cheerful-looking young man dressed in what was, for a scientist, a surprisingly stylish Lindbergh jacket. His English was excellent, only lightly accented, and he clearly relished American slang, slipping terms like “razz” and “bushwa” into his discourse.

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