The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2869 by Angharad Copyright© 2016 Angharad

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This is a work of fiction any mention of real people, places or institutions is purely coincidental and does not imply that they are as suggested in the story.
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I believe it was the Emperor Constantine who, upon dreaming he would be victorious in battle, subsequently was. Attributing his victory to Jesus, he converted to Christianity as did the rest of his empire. Ironic, given that the Romans had executed Jesus, so why should he help them? The story is probably a myth, Christianity specialises in them, mind you, one of the founders of Judaism, Moses, probably never existed: not that it matters, people will believe what they want to—hence religion thriving despite the foundations of most of it being built on sand, quick sand. But then, humans are emotional beings, most of our decisions are made on the basis of emotion not logic, which says a lot about us. The emotional drive is older and stronger than the logical one, hence we are subject to its dominance.

Now, me being something of an apostate, an agnostic who seems to communicate with a divinity, I find my thoughts or beliefs questioned regularly. I seem to witness miracles which appear to be centred around me or through me. Were I an evangelical preacher, I could develop a following of thousands—but someone did that a couple of thousand years ago and was murdered for his troubles. We have loads of sayings attributed to him, mostly by people who never met him or even visited Palestine, yet their writings are seen as gospel truth by many. I find that curious.

My interview with the goddess implied that I should believe in my own victory especially in the presence of my enemy. I just did that and unfortunately he didn’t disappear in a puff of smoke. I wonder if one can sue a goddess for wrongful advice—do they have a code of conduct? Probably not. But then, what did her advice really mean? I had absolutely no idea anymore than I did if I really believed in anything supernatural, but at the moment it would do no harm and possibly some good. Discovering if the Shekinah was real or imaginary could wait for another day, the priority for today was staying alive to try and protect my family and defeat the demons—oh boy, this sounds like something from a Gothic Horror story rather than the politics within a university hierarchy, to which I was a relatively junior member but longer serving than my opponent and over whom I had the greater moral and just cause. Good innit? No that should be, I’m the good guy—uh—girl, he’s the baddie.

At lunch I drove off to the seawall and sitting down on the windward side called James on my mobile. He didn’t answer. Had they already got him? I tried calling Daddy and got the same result. He could have been got, too. Or they each may be avoiding giving their positions away by answering their phones. I tried to tune into each and got nothing but darkness—indicative of what, I wondered. It could mean they’d been killed or captured by my enemies, or had phone troubles, or couldn’t get a signal.

“Is it true that some headmistress called evolution merely a theory because there was no fact to confirm it?”

“Facts or evidence? Facts are usually statements made upon observation of something. For instance, I saw a news story that this woman teacher said evolution was just a theory—that was fact. I saw the news story, it exists and so do I.

“Theory is usually a way of explaining how you think some phenomenon comes about. Evidence should be the thing which drives your theory, invariably, we find the things we’re looking for and often miss those we aren’t. But a theory is supposed to marshal the evidence into a logical narrative which if it can be replicated or proved by others and if it can’t be disproved by its detractors, becomes scientific fact or possibly a law, especially, if A always happens because of B.

“Some hypotheses may take many years to prove, there are rumours one of Einstein’s more exotic ones is coming closer to being proved about gravity, or so the rumours say. Evolution through natural selection has changed as an idea because of the evidence which is amounting but it is pretty well scientific fact and increasingly we believe we know what the mechanisms are. Creationism, is purely a belief based upon absolutely no evidence whatsoever, so that is a myth, not even a theory.”

Diane looked at me agog. “A simple yes or no would have done, Professor.”

Why do they always ask me the easy questions? Duh.

“I had Pippa call earlier, Professor Agnew hasn’t turned up for work and she’s worried about him. Would you speak to her?”

“I’ll walk over and talk to her.”

“I’ll just let her know.”

“Uh—don’t bother.”

“It’s no bother.”

“I said NO.”

She jumped and looked very embarrassed. “There’s something going on, isn’t there?”

“Yes, someone tried to kill me last night. They are probably searching for Tom Agnew if they haven’t found him by now.”

“Oh my god—why?”

“I suspect it has nothing to do with evolution as scientific fact.”

“What?” she gasped.

“A hundred years ago people were killing each other over it or taking others to court over it. Have a look at Clarence Darrow and John Scopes or look at the film, Inherit the Wind. There’s a copy somewhere in my cupboard. That will show you the power of myth and how logic and science have to fight hard to overcome it.

“I will,” she said looking very circumspect. “Take care, I hope your father is okay.”

“Thank you.”

I set off briskly as if going to the library, in fact entering the facility but then nipped out the back door and walked quickly up to Pippa’s office.

“Cathy, good to see you. Where’s Tom?”

“I don’t know.” I said but made suggestions by mime that she offer me a cuppa.

“Hey, let’s have a cuppa and discuss this.”

“Good idea,” I replied rolling my eyes at her contrived statement which sounded as spontaneous as Prime Minister’s Questions.

Once in the small tea making room and the kettle boiling I ran the tap and was knocking two saucers together.

“What are you doing?”

“Trying to make sure we’re not overheard.”

“But there’s no one around.”

“There could be a concealed microphone or camera.”

“You’re joking—you’re not joking, are you?”

“Someone tried to kill me last night, Tom didn’t come home last night. I’m hoping he’s gone to ground, but they might have got him.”

“Oh my god,” she gasped, “no wonder he wasn’t himself after seeing you for lunch. You were half expecting it, weren’t you?”

“It didn’t surprise me in retrospect, though it did at the time. I’m really worried about him.”

“Oh, Cathy, I’m really sorry, but who could be behind all this?”

“I think we both know that.”

She nodded in the general direction of the admin building where the VC occupied an office. I nodded my agreement.

“Be very careful in what you say to anyone. Trust no one.”

“No one, what about you?”

“I sighed, except me.”

“What about your secretary, Diane?”

I shrugged, “I hope she’s with us but I’m not certain.”

“Oh god, Cathy, I hope she is, too.”

I looked at her questioningly.

“Oh hell, I’m sorry, I just sent a bunch of stuff to you which Tom asked me to deliver to you.”

“So what was in it?”

“I only glanced at it, but it looked like press cuttings, some looked quite old.”

“You sent it via a porter?”

“Yes, about half an hour ago.”

“Shit, I’ve got to go.” With that I dashed out of her office and back towards my own.