The Geographer's Library

And as all things were by the
contemplation of one, so all things
arose from this one thing by
a single act of adaption.
Professor Jadid bounded away, and I started to regret not taking him
up on his offer of a drink. Maybe I should have been more
concerned with getting back home, but I was intrigued: guns and
conspiracies—even academic conspiracies like this one—made a welcome
change from the usual stories about school-board meetings and zoning disputes.
As I looked at the clear and lapidary blue sky and inhaled the city’s distinctive
autumn scent—smoke and sea tang, with an occasional whiff of dock
brackishness—ninety aimless minutes here seemed appealing.
The thought of catching up with the professor appealed even more. He
was courtly, classically educated, dignified, and European in a pre-1914
sense, and as such had won more than his share of campus enemies who
considered him a dinosaur. One reason I liked him so much was how little
that affected him: I had seen students refuse to walk through doors he held
open, but I had never seen him fail to hold open a door. We had fallen out of
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