7/26/18: This has been revised. No sentences added, removed, or moved. The edits were simply word choice changes or copyediting.

Part II

Leaving the Parlor, they crossed over the foyer and into the light blue Drawing Room.  Jonathan remembered it as though no time had elapsed.  In fact, it looked as though nothing had changed. As they entered, he saw the stuffed floor-to-ceiling bookshelves that made up the entire right corner of the room.  To the left of the bookshelves was the fire place, this one with just a few logs on adding a touch of warmth to the room.  The light sconces on each wall and on the sides of the mantel gave the room a warm glow.  With the floor length marigold drapes pulled closed on all three windows, the room felt downright cozy.  

Jonathan smiled upon seeing the beige wingback chairs, recalling the Friday seminar he took with Prof Mag the fall semester of his junior year before he left for Paris.  He remembered Prof Mag telling him that he would learn more in one semester in Paris than he could in all four years of his college career.  In hindsight, he was more accurate than could have been anticipated.      

Five of the chairs were arranged in an arc, the rightmost chair close to the fireplace. In front of the chairs was the small oval shaped mahogany table and armchair behind which Prof Mag used to sit during the seminars.  Instead of the collection of books and folders he always had on it, there was now a small flat screen TV sitting on top of a DVD player.  Moving to stand just to the right of the table and close to the fireplace so that the dancing shadows of the fire illuminated his face, Mr. Salimbene gestured to the chairs with one hand.  

“I’ll take the one closest to the fire,” Claudia announced. “I’m freezing!”  John, followed by Georgiana took the next two chairs leaving Joaquin and Jonathan to take the last two seats. Jonathan felt a subtle satisfaction that he’d ended up next to Joaquin.  

After everyone had settled in, Mr. Salimbene coughed again to clear his throat before beginning what struck everyone as a well-planned speech.  “On behalf of the late Dr. Jeremy Magdelinskas, I thank you all for responding to his invitation.  I trust that I need not tell any of you that such an unusual evening is absolutely in keeping with the eccentric nature of our beloved friend, mentor, and of course professor. I, as the executor of his last will and testament, am merely carrying out his instructions. Nothing that will unfold tonight has been decided by myself. I must be absolutely clear on that point.” At this, Mr. Salimbene paused and turned to look at each one of them in the eye, as though to underscore the point.  What is more, it appeared that he wanted to ensure, to his own satisfaction, that everyone had heard and understood him.  

   “Now then, I am quite sure each of you has asked yourself at least once if not on multiple occasions since receiving your invitation, ‘Just why was I selected?’”  He paused, anticipating no doubt the shifting in the seat, the slight chuckles, and flicker of eyes to one another that followed his statement.  “I will allow Dr. Magdelinskas speak for himself on this point.” Stepping behind the TV and DVD player, he first turned the TV on and then the DVD. As soon as the start screen appeared, he pressed the play button. 

They all leaned forward as soon as Prof Mag’s face appeared on the screen. He was sitting in the very same room and in one of the same chairs they were all already seated in. Jonathan looked down at his chair and then back up at the screen, wondering for a brief moment, was he sitting in the same chair.  Before his mind could wander down that line of thought, Prof Mag started speaking.   

“Well hello, Students,” he began with his usual good cheer, using his preferred word for addressing the lucky few able to get into his classes. Jonathan felt his eyes start to water and blinked several times to control them.  Hearing the deep rich baritone of one of his most revered and well-loved teachers again, after all this time, cut straight to his core. Lost in his own tangle of emotions, he failed to notice a similar reaction rippling through his fellow guests.  “First, a deep and heartfelt word of gratitude to my attorney and my friend, Edward Salimbene.” They all glanced up to see Mr. Salimbene close his eyes at the mention of his name.  “Without him, this evening would not be possible and,” he chuckled, in a familiar and memory provoking way, “I assure you, it takes a very special person to carry out the instructions I’ve provided.”

Jonathan glanced down the row of guests and saw they were all looking at one another.  Just what had they gotten themselves into, he asked himself, sure the others were wondering the same thing. 

Breaking into his thoughts, Prof Mag continued, “And now, I’m sure you are specifically wondering, ‘Why the hell did he choose me?!’”  John was the most vocal in his reaction, barking out a nervous laugh that betrayed his composure.  Joaquin just drummed his fingers on the arms of his chair, eager for what he hoped would follow.  “Well, I regret to disappoint you.  Of course, I’m not going to tell you!” Prof Mag started laughing as though he’d heard the most hilarious joke.   

This time it was Claudia’s turn to react, as she slammed her hands down on the arms of her chair and yelled at the screen, “God damnit, Prof Mag!” 

What happened next caught all of them off guard. “Calm down, Claudia,” Prof Mag’s videotaped self said.  Had he turned to where she was sitting, none of them could have reacted with more surprise than they already felt at just how well he knew her.  

“You asshole,” she muttered, her voice low but still loud enough for everyone to hear her. 

“No. None of you really expected me to just hand you the answer, did you? I may be dead but that is not going to change my commitment to my pedagogical beliefs and practices,” he said, his tone taking on the very serious timbre his voice had whenever he had wanted to impart some specific knowledge for which there could be no argument. 

“Some of you, deep in your heart, know exactly why you were selected. Some of you, well it may take you years to find the answer to this question.  I can assure you of this though. I would not have chosen you if I didn’t think you’d ever figure it out, in your own time and in your own way.”

Joaquin took a deep breath, hesitating a moment before exhaling.  His physical reaction mirrored Jonathan’s feelings which prompted him to wonder, ‘Does he have his answer?’  Given how he’d joined the group with his deep knowledge about that one particular tequila, it wouldn’t have surprised Jonathan.  He knew it would take him more time to process, but he felt certain he knew why he’d been chosen.  That certainty made him wish he could leave the room so he could bawl his eyes out in a way he hadn’t allowed himself since learning that Prof Mag had a terminal illness.

“Now then,” the voice from the TV began again, pulling them all back into the present.  “Why are you here? Not each of you individually, but you, as a group.” he said, taking a deep breath.

“When I learned about my condition, I knew I had to make some decisions about how my estate would be handled, how I would be remembered, and of course on a more metaphysical level, how my legacy would be carried on.  As you all know, I have no direct heirs.  What is more, being an only child of two only children themselves, there are no cousins who might want to swoop in with a claim to an inheritance.  Even if there were any, I have ensured with Mr. Salimbene that through my last will and testament the practical matter of how my estate is managed is locked down as much as is legally possible.”

Jonathan looked up to see that Mr. Salimbene was now standing erect, his right arm across his body, the elbow of his left arm resting on it, and the index finger of his left hand hooked over his upper lip, his thumb under his chin. He gave the definite appearance of a man who knew just how to ensure Prof Mag’s wishes were carried out, down to the last word, whatever their personal relationship might have been.    

“The instructions I have provided regarding my estate are, without getting into the details now, as follows,” Prof Mag said. “Tonight, each of you has an opportunity to share either five ways, by yourself, none at all, or in some other combination all of the funds, properties, royalties, and personal effects left upon my passing.” 

The videotaped version of Prof Mag paused, anticipating the need for that information to sink in. “Of course, I know each of you well.  Your heads are probably spinning wondering what exactly the stipulations are. And, I’m no fool.  You’re probably also trying to guess the value of my estate.  That reaction, as we discussed many times, inside and outside the classroom, is an inherent and inescapable aspect of human nature.”  

Jonathan’s head was in fact swimming.  Of course, the mansion and the land it was sitting on had to have significant value all by itself.  But then he remembered the lakeside home in New Hampshire that he and two classmates had visited in the summer between their junior and senior year.  And of course, Dr. Magdelinskas was the author of almost a dozen books on various anthropological topics, and while they weren’t the greatest best sellers, they did still sell and no doubt would continue to do well for some time to come.  As he considered each of these different elements to what constituted Prof Mag’s estate, the number of zeroes in the final number kept going up.  Even if it were split five ways, as he suggested was possible, it would still be a lot of money.

“Now then,” Prof Mag’s voice cut in, as though timed to stop all the internal calculations which he must have known would start taking place.  “As I have often said, nothing worth doing would be easy.  Tonight, you will be confronted with an anthropological test.  I must confess, I think I know how each of you will handle it and yet have no idea how each of you may actually respond. To the extent that I have ever believed there is an afterlife, and didn’t we have many a fascinating conversation on this topic, I will endeavor to be there in spirit with you as the rest of this evening unfolds,” he laughed, amused with his own cleverness. 

Glancing back at Mr. Salimbene, Jonathan saw that he was now pinching the bridge of his nose and the look of consternation on his face suggested that he couldn’t believe what was happening next.  Looking at his…the word conspirators popped into his head as the most fitting…Jonathan saw similar looks of confusion mixed with anxiety. 

“When you go into the dining room, Mr. Salimbene will explain the test.  Regardless of how this test unfolds, the final requirement, which could be far harder than the barrier to entry itself, will be that whoever successfully completes it, whether one or more of you, will write a book detailing my life and legacy.  The contract to publish any book that results from this work has already been agreed upon and signed with my publisher.  Don’t worry, Students! You will have five years to complete this assignment from tonight.”

They all laughed with the videotaped Prof Mag, remembering their own various experiences pulling all-nighters, attempting to write a paper that would not be torn to pieces by the exacting, ruthless, and critical Dr. Magdelinskas.

“But keep in mind,” Prof Mag continued, turning quite somber in contrast to his boisterous laugher, “if none of you completes this test, then no book will be written.  At least not by people I trust to tell my story.  I’m sure one or more academic rivals are no doubt furiously at work on their own interpretation of my work,” he finished with a touch of the bitterness he almost never allowed others to see in life. 

“As for the test itself, as you will soon learn, this is my final effort to ensure some part of me, beyond my work itself, lives on.  I expect a lively and no doubt at times contentious discussion. I would be sorely disappointed if you all simply sat there, mute, just attempting to get through it. As you all well know, final exams were never my preferred method of assessment.  Were it not for the University’s requirement that I provide some objectively quantifiable measure of your knowledge, I would have dispensed with them altogether,” he said smirking at all of them.  “I must admit though, I wish I could see the look on Dean Johnson’s face if he were to see my solution.  I believe I have created a test exquisitely subjective and objective in the extreme,” he said bursting into almost childlike glee.  

Again, they all shifted with discomfort.  With each of their respective recollections and understanding of what Prof Mag was like, they knew what they were about to face would be anything but a simple term paper on some obscure anthropological concept.  “Good evening, Students.  I love you all.  Never forget that. And whatever transpires tonight, thank you.”

With that, the screen went black.  
 

Part III

Photo credit: www.ForestWander.com