There is no mathematical theory to decipher emotions, much to the regret of Alan Turing. In twentieth-century England, two boys dream of changing the world. However, when the unimaginable happens, that tough job is handed to Alan alone. As a code-br...
"I love you. I love you, but I'm turning to my verses and my heart is closing like a fist."
-Frank O'Hara
Anxiously, Alan looked around, there was no closet in Cyril's room to hide in. The sound of footsteps drew closer and closer, along with the fear of being caught. The window beckoned to him. Together with Chris, he pushed open the narrow, white window. It opened onto the sloping roof, the pebbles only a few yards lower.
Alan peered at Chris as if he had gone mad as the latter threw his leg over the frame.
His blond eyebrows crept up expectantly.
Alan gave in and scurried out the window, clinging to the slippery stones. The window slid shut with a satisfying click.
Chris grabbed his arm and nodded inside. There he saw Cyril step into his room.
Alan watched with great delight as he picked his nose and roared a word Boughey did not like to hear in his school. The boy next to him had to hold back his laughter as Cyril turned proverbially green with nausea. He was reminded of a Shakespearean phrase Blamey often recited.
O, beware, my lord, of jealousy. It is the green-ey'd monster, which doth mock the meat it feeds on.
But he did not need to fear this green monster now. Never again.
They slid down the roof feetfirst and landed on the wet pebbles while laughing.
"That was probably the most exciting thing that ever happened at this school."
Alan agreed and helped his friend get up. Together they patted off their jackets.
Still smiling, they arrived back at the bedrooms.
Chris turned to him and reported that he would quickly gather his homework and then go to the library.
The boy's smile bared his teeth, only now did Alan notice he was missing a piece of his canine tooth.
"I'll be right there," he said against the tips of his shoes, flustered.
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The exact moment when his broad smile disappeared as his mouth fell open could be accurately recorded with a chronometer. It would indicate the precise time when his hopes for a better future faded back into his old pattern.
Shocked, he let the door to his room fall shut behind him. A startled Blamey let the little red book fall out of his hands. It fell open on the floor, ink marks lining the inside.
Alan silently bent forward to pick up his diary.
Both boys held their breath, they could only stare at the unfolded pages. Alan's words, which he would entrust only to his own heart, seemed to dance treacherously on the paper.
