Enigmatic Emotions

(xiv) This green venom

"The fool doth think he is wise,
but the wise man knows himself to be a fool."

-William Shakespeare

"Espionage!" repeated Hugh for the thousandth time this ride. Alan was silently beginning to regret that he had not simply taken the train to Cambridge. "Can you believe this? All our precious information was just lumped together with the allies' dubious espionage. As if we didn't receive it directly from a first-hand source."

Alan slumped further in the leather car seat. "No wonder the military didn't take us seriously." Two weeks had passed since they had cracked Enigma. Now they were providing a tonne of useful information daily. It was painful to watch the generals literally trash their work.

He was pressed against the door as Hugh took a sharp turn. His driving was greatly affected by his mood. Alan licked his lips, trying to stay calm. "Look on the bright side. Since we sunk the Bismarck, they've been getting all the information from our machine. There's almost no need for espionage anymore."

Hugh laughed mockingly. "Of course they couldn't resist to sink such an enormous submarine. We gave them the exact coordinates and their eyes started sparkling."

Alan held on tightly to the door and laughed. Even though it was a great victory on their side, the Germans were now getting an inkling that their unbeatable code had been cracked. It was fearfully waiting to see if their ego would be too big lest they modify the entire code. Then they would have to start all over again.

Hugh slammed on the brakes, the tyres of the green car squealed. "Destination King's College reached. That'll be five pounds, a good-friend discount." With a big grin, he held out his hand.

Alan slapped the hand away. "Admit it, you like driving me around." Before Hugh could answer that, he slammed the door shut.

He turned his back to the departing car and beheld the white building looming before him. With a firm stride, he started stepping towards the fellows' quarters.

However much he felt at ease in Bletchley, the familiar sight of the flourishing flower meadow and the curling of the spiral staircase made him feel instantly at home again.

Alan had come up with an excuse to come to King's. Now that he was engaged, he apparently had to account for where he went.

James Atkins' invitation therefore felt heavy in his inside pocket. He had doubted for a long time whether he would come to the so-called reunion party. In the end, his heart had won out over his head.

He slipped into his old room. Since he had temporarily stopped teaching to work in Bletchley, he had partly expected that his place had been relinquished. To his relief, everything was still in its usual place; in an orderly heap. Alan grabbed at the papers on his desk and let them slide through his hands until his research in metalogic passed by.

He took the pile of paper under his arm. Joan had said she could use it to optimise the bombe. So he had made the generous offer to go and pick it up. And since he was here now anyways, he might as well go and say hello to his former colleagues. After a quick glance at the drawing he had made of Chris on the table, he walked back into the corridor.

To his delight, he saw some students walking by in black gowns. Alan suddenly felt underdressed in his brown sports jacket. Still, a smile appeared on his face; how he had missed the odd customs of King's. Wearing a toga after sunset, smoking where you wanted, kissing who you wanted. It was all part of the freedom the school offered. Even after he had graduated, he had not been able to leave it behind.

What he hadn't missed was the pretentious mug of the department head, who was now looming in his field of vision. Alan skilfully avoided his gaze, as he did with all strangers with any kind of authority. Quickly he bolted into another corridor.