To Arcadia

1

The Australian sun had only just risen, and yet the sky was as cloudless and blue as a delicate porcelain teacup. It ended in a white haze as it touched the horizon, where the red soil stretched for miles, dotted only with boab trees and rounded sand dunes that rolled in all directions.

The car passed over a hill and suddenly dropped downward. I squeezed my eyes closed as my stomach twisted hot and sharp, and the sound of my pulse swelled inside my ears until the beating of my own heart was the only thing I could hear. The ship journey from England to Australia was well over a month, and yet I was still unused to the sensation of my feet being planted on the floor of the bus while the world streaked past in colorful blurs.

"Oh look Fel, deer!" exclaimed Professor Vale, from the front seat. His voice was muffled, as though it had come from a long way away, and I had to blink feverishly before I could make out the scattering of brown dots in the distance that he was pointing to.

"There are no deer in Australia" said the driver, with his eyes still planted firmly on the dirt road ahead. "Those are horses."

Professor Vale laughed sheepishly and caught my eye, "Well, all the same. One of God's wonderful creations, aren't they?"

I tried to nod my head but when the word began to swing with it, I stopped and rested my temple against the vibrating window.

Vale was a professor at King's College in London and I had worked with him since I received a scholarship to the school three years ago. When I knew him he was well-regarded and considered an expert in the field of microbiology. These days saying you work with 'Vale' is met with ridicule or a sarcastic smirk, if any recognition at all.

We had become close over my time at the university, though I was not among his most distinguished students by any means (I lacked the rigid obedience needed to attend each class and take notes religiously. And I found the nightly readings dull). I think Vale only took a liking to me because when I was accepted into the university at fifteen I was the youngest student in 103 years, and I'm sure Vale pictured me as some kind of child prodigy bursting with poorly-formed but promising ideas that, with his careful shaping, could bring about a greatness that every scientist of that time craved. Though scientists will insist we don't care for a spectacular future of newspaper interviews and praises from the queen, we all hold on to that blurry-edged dream on the periphery of our vision, that is both so distant, and yet with a stroke of luck, so possible.

Unfortunately, I had always been unambitious and rather lazy. The only reason I had chosen microbiology out of all the sciences was because I thought it would be easy. After all, how many secrets could a single cell or a wiggling strand of bacteria hold? But it turned out the science of minute organisms is nothing but arcane darkness and black hollows of mystery, and it occurred to me only too late that it would take a lifetime to fathom the secrets of even the most humble virus.

At the end of my third year I had to take my exams, and instead of studying I spent those preceding months unable to eat or wash or even get out of bed. I lay horizontal and wondered what would happen if I failed the exams. I knew I would lose my scholarship and would have to leave the school. But I found it wasn't the humiliation of being kicked out that bothered me so much, more so the thought that I would have to find something else to occupy my every hour.

I only overcame my paralysis three days before the day of my exams and for 72 hours I lived and breathed in a little universe of nothing but microbes and proteins and disease. Almost feverishly, I consumed coffee by the liter and bore over textbooks until the words swam before my eyes.

After the final exam I collapsed in Professor Vale's office and lay still on his armchair for a long time, aware that I was dreaming yet still conscious. In my mind's eye I saw my future as an outcast drunk, loitering on the streets of Bedford square, sharing the pavement with rodents and jeering at any girl who walked past.