Back Under The Stairs - Book 2 in The Bandworld Series Read Free Page A

with the predictable,
static build-up on everything and everybody. Sparks of static
snapped ominously whenever John walked across his nylon carpet.
Static sizzled in his cat's thick coat when he petted her; crackled
with cold-fire anger when Cream galloped after imaginary mice.
    It was when his static-charged Persian had
vanished into that storage space under the stairs that John began
to hallucinate the possibility that the harmless looking space
might be linked to "another reality." Could this hollow under the
stairs be a kind of "tunnel" through which electrically charged
objects -- Cream had disappeared under there -- traveled to some
other place? A speculation that led John to the ultimate question:
if he were sufficiently electrified, could he crawl under the
stairs to another world?
    Crazy!
    Crazy, but enough of a possibility for John
to borrow a Van de Graaff generator from Hill Top's Physics
Department (allegedly to recreate some electrical experiments of
Benjamin Franklin.)
    What had finally given John the courage to
make the attempted passage, was a promise to himself that, if the
experiment failed, he would check into Tri-county's mental ward!
What he'd certainly never expected was the girl, Platinia, to be
transported from the other world's Stil-de-grain to ....
    With a start, John realized his department
chairman had asked him a question. About John's health.
    "I'm doing OK, Paul. Not sleeping too well.
More from the strain of having so many preps than for any other
reason. Next semester's got to go better."
    "Teaching Western Civ's a bitch," growled the
Hawaiian-shirted, big man. "So much to cover. Having the dates back
up on you for half the course while you're in the B.C. period."
    "If I can get through it once ...."
    "You're right. The first semester's the
dragon. Slay that, and the rest's a breeze." The chair groaned
again as the chairman rotated it toward John. "Which reminds me.
You remember my telling you that, last spring, the administration
got the notion that we should all plunge into "community service"
-- start giving talks to men's clubs -- that kind of thing?"
    "I know." It was all John could do to keep
from moaning.
    "Forget it."
    ..... "What?"
    "I said, forget it."
    "It's off?"
    "Unfortunately, no. It's off for you,
though."
    "But just yesterday, I saw the dean when I
was in the mail room, and he asked me what I was planning for
community service."
    "Sure. But that's the dean talking. This is
your department chairman speaking." Paul scowled ominously, his
high forehead wrinkling with pretended menace.
    "I hear, and I obey." John salaamed.
    It was impossible to overstate the positive
influence Paul Hamilton had on John. Officed with the big,
sloppily-dressed bruin meant John could get instant advice from the
only member of the department who could be said to "have it all
together." Dr. Paul -- historian hero. The one man John would
eventually like to be. If for no other reason than Paul was married
to the elegantly beautiful artist, Ellen -- the two of them having
the statistically perfect, 2.4 children. (Correction. Since another
month had passed in Ellen's pregnancy, closer to 2.6 children.)
    "The rest of us, of course," Paul rumbled
after a period of introspection, "are stuck with it. You too, next
semester -- if this latest fad isn't replaced by yet another
administrative aberration."
    "I'm favored because ...?"
    "Because I can still remember how much I had
to sweat to be a productive teacher when I was just starting."
    "But the dean ...."
    "Be assured. You are covered, my boy, by the
mantel of my protection."
    The most telling evidence of the force of Dr.
Paul's persona, was that he was respected, not only by students and
colleagues, but by librarians, administrators, and by the most
important people in the successful operation of any enterprise,
custodians. "Actually, I've given little talks here and there and
it's not too bad," the chairman continued, Paul more hopeful than
convinced.