Disclaimer: this is part of a larger work. Check out the other visual and mystical elements if you’re interested !
God opened the clouds one evening and delivered a message to the house of The Professor and The Queer. The two of them had been enjoying a quiet dinner, like always, when an omnipotent cough startled them both into alertness.
“You have been assigned a task,” God said. The Professor—rapturous—and The Queer—bemused—listened carefully. The arcane voice seemed to be coming from everywhere. “There is a place on Earth you must visit for me.”
“Where is this place?” asked The Professor, looking to the ceiling. “What shall we do once we get there? And why?”
God’s voice boomed: “It is lost to me—you must find it. You must follow these directions.”
Lightning struck the centre of the table, shattering an expensive vase The Queer had won at a carnival some time ago. Half-buried in the ceramic debris, a gold playing card caught The Professor’s eye.
“Curious,” said The Professor, retrieving the card and turning it over, “a puzzle.” Engraved on both sides were elaborate, unfamiliar symbols—far too small to read with the naked eye.
“We can’t understand this!” The Queer protested, slightly annoyed about the vase.
God’s tone was apologetic. “It is all I have to give. I have faith in you.” Then, almost as if remembering something, God added, “you have forty days.”
“Yes, we’ll find the place, of course,” The Professor said, dry-mouthed, “but why?”
There was no response.
The Professor began on the assignment immediately. Phone calls with linguists, historians, and archaeologists became incessant; silence turned mythological. Time was at a premium—The Professor had even lost a noticeable amount of weight from forgetting to eat.
The Queer was less bothered, seemingly more concerned with the beautification of the back garden. Each day, The Queer would spend hours planting, pruning, and watering; however, missing a meal would be outrageous.
“My head is swimming with symbols,” The Professor lamented on the seventh day. The Queer was tending to a lemon tree while The Professor watched from the verandah. “We don’t have long. Aren’t you worried?”
“Not very,” said The Queer, thumbing a verdant leaf in appreciation.
“God is counting on us. God needs us. How are you gardening?!“
“Because I like it,” The Queer laughed, plucking a lemon and offering it to The Professor.
The Professor accepted the fruit begrudgingly before going back inside.
That evening, The Queer noted the abundance of lemon slices in The Professor’s nightly glass of water, but said nothing.
“I think I’ve got it,” said The Professor on the eleventh day, thinking out loud at the kitchen table. “This one—the tricky one…” The Professor, looking through a magnifying glass, pointed to a wavy symbol on the card. “It seems to reference some kind of amphibious creature. A reptile, maybe? The marine iguana looks promising… perhaps our spot is somewhere in Brazil?”
The Queer, who had been half-listening in on the one-sided conversation, mumbled offhandedly, “Ecuador, not Brazil.”
“Huh?” The Professor turned around to find the Queer dangling upside-down on the couch, reading a huge book.
The Queer, doe-eyed, looked almost surprised to be addressed. “The marine iguana… is found in Ecuador. Not Brazil.”
After a moment of recalculation, The Professor’s jaw flexed. “Yes, you’re right. Same thing. So—Ecuador? That’s where we’re going?”
“Mmm. Maybe,” The Queer replied, lazily flipping through the pages of the tome. “I’m not convinced.”
“It’s the most convincing lead we’ve got,” countered The Professor.
“Mmm.”
The Professor, more frazzled than usual, found The Queer’s slackness quite grating. “I doubt Shakespeare’s Collected Works is going to do much help.”
“This isn’t Shakespeare—”
“Maybe we should work solo from now on!” exclaimed The Professor, leaving the room with the card in hand and magnifying glass still up to one eye.
The Queer shrugged and continued reading Facts About the Marine Iguana.
On the thirty-sixth day, The Queer stood at the door to the The Professor’s study with a big suitcase in hand. “Going now.”
The Professor jumped slightly and glanced up from the desk, framed by haphazard stacks of paper. “You sure? There’s still time. You’ve time.”
“Sure,” The Queer replied, nodding.
“Right.” There was a pause. “Be safe,” said The Professor, swallowing thickly. “Be well.”
“Yes,” replied The Queer, knocking twice on the doorframe. “You too, please.”
The Queer left. The phone started to ring. The Professor leaned over and ripped the cord from the socket, before retreating into the back yard to meditate.
On day forty, The Professor completed the assignment. It hadn’t been Brazil or Ecuador at all—a pertinent detail only realised twenty-four hours before the deadline was up.
Getting there had been a task. A long flight, a boat ride, and lots of walking—enough walking to be considered criminal. Upon arriving, The Professor was exhausted—wrought to the bone—but the place was so beautiful the voyage almost seemed justified.
An island. Small, yes, but plentiful. The sun was pomegranate-red in the sky, unobscured by cloud. The air was sweet and tangy; the sand crystalline.
After a few minutes of aimless wandering, The Professor found The Queer reclining on a beach chair. “Welcome,” The Queer said, gesturing to the empty seat in front of The Professor.
“Is this all you’ve brought, you silly thing?” The Professor huffed, making a show of dropping a weighty backpack onto the ground. “These two chairs?”
The Queer was serene, holding a coconut with both hands. “One each.” The Professor laughed, unsurprised, before sitting down.
The Professor, after glancing over at The Queer’s sun-reddened face, reached into the aforementioned backpack for a bucket hat. No objections were made as The Professor fastened it snugly over The Queer’s head.
It was quiet for a long time. Eventually, though, curiosity eclipsed etiquette. “How did you know?” The Professor asked, bewildered.
The Queer hummed, smiling. Then, after a moment, earnest as anything, said: “I guessed.”
The Professor, sprawled comfortably on the beach chair, rattled a cup of dice. “Guess.”
“Two sixes,” the Queer replied, next to a mountain of empty coconuts.
The Professor let the dice fly out. They landed noiselessly into the sand. “Two sixes,” The Professor repeated, astonished. “I don’t know how you do that.”
“Look,” said The Queer, pointing to the dice. “Another God-given task for us.”
Comprehension eluded The Professor, so The Queer took the die on the right and turned it upside down. “Ah.” The Professor gulped and attempted to be slick. “Yes. Perhaps even more important than the previous assignment…”
The Queer, laughing, gathered the dice to play again, as the gently falling sun turned the entire island pink.
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