Tuesday, July 10, 2012

Chapter 14


Chapter 14

Meanwhile, in his academic career, Etienne was garnering straight A's. He had chosen mathematics as a major, because he hated doubt and disagreement. In Math, he reasoned, there should be little enough of either. His hatred of domestic disputes manifested by changing the channel, if characters erupted in complaint. He simply could not abide Jerry Springer, and his classmates chuckled over his gentle sensibilities.

Being gifted with logic, Etienne found he had a natural affinity for computers. Combining with a lackluster dating life, Etienne began to “help” female upper classmen with their programming assignments. His attention to ethics was lax, and soon more than one instructor was able to recognize that these assignments were beyond the abilities of the students who presented them as original effort. Nothing could be shown definitively, but in the teachers lounge, they passed remarks that eventually came to the attention of the Dean of Students. He knew that Etienne played “fast and loose” with the rules, and since he couldn't accuse him of his actual offense, the Dean resolved to make Etienne pay for it in other ways. Imagine the Dean's vindication, when the school received a letter, on official looking letterhead, that Etienne was “under investigation.” The letter explained that since Etienne was a gifted mathematician, he might seek employment with the NSA, and would the Dean be pleased to discourage his major.

Etienne's assignments became harder than they had to be. Tutors began to have difficulty fitting him in to their schedule. His examinations were graded ruthlessly, and with a jaundiced eye. Etienne regarded these hardships as a challenge, and strove to surmount the adversity, but by his Junior year, Etienne could no longer sustain the burden. He thanked the school for an Associate of Arts degree, in Liberal Arts, and left school in misery and disgrace.

No one told him why. No one gave him succor. Few even spoke.

At Missouri Synod headquarters, the Senior Pastor opened a letter from an anonymous well wisher.
Dear Sirs:

Etienne DuBois, of Berkeley California, is spreading libelous reports that the Lutheran Church, Missouri Synod has a secret order of spies. He is most disparaging of Luther, and may need “special attention.”

In California, Etienne's Lutheran supervisor began to schedule his hours back. His training became perfunctory, and he was given no real avenue of advancement.

Etienne's prayers became tearful and fervent. His very soul cried out. “Will anyone ever hear?” he wondered.