HISTORY

It was always going to be his story. She knew how it worked and from the start she feared that history would repeat itself.

They met at the welcome dinner, the week before the awards. 

His self-confidence left him for a moment when he first arrived at the dinner venue. His hands went in and out of his dinner jacket pockets, checking that he had his invitation. He kept glancing at the street number above the imperious doors, making sure that he was in the right place. He was stalling, hoping to recognise someone he knew.

She walked past him with a group of others, chatting and laughing. It was obvious though that she was focused on where she was going. He stood back to let them pass. Much to his surprise her friends hugged her and, before she could protest, deftly made their escape. She was alone now, not far from him and fussing for something in her handbag, paying no attention to him at all.

He watched her, wondering whether she was going to the dinner. It seemed probable that she was involved with the organisation of the evening. Friends equated to being local.

She retrieved what looked like an invitation from the vastness of her bag and made towards the doors. He gave her space to make her entrance and then followed her in.

The reception room was something to see, its’ occupants even more so. The room was grand in the old style. Chandeliers hung huge, protective of those underneath but almost unnecessary. The brilliance of the minds below them gave out more than enough energy. 

He lost sight of her while he admired his surroundings. He surveyed the many small groups of people dotted around, unsure whether or not to join one of them. An award judge, who he knew well, caught his eye and made his way over to him.

The banter was warm, designed to disarm and settle him. He understood the politics of the dinner and the coming week, still, he was grateful for the friendly briefing. He agreed to a round of introductions, mainly because he wondered if she would be one of them. She was not.

At the appointed time a fanfare was played and the banquet hall doors opened. Each guest was called, in order, and escorted to their place along the long, sumptuous table. He was amongst the first to be seated. She was the last, and was seated next to him.

Before the dinner was over, seven courses, he had told her everything about himself. The obvious stuff anyone would know, and the secret stuff that he never thought he would tell. He talked about his discoveries, his theories, his self-doubt, and his aloneness. She nodded, she laughed, she knew when to be serious. She listened with great care.

As the last of the many speeches made that night came to an end he realised that he knew nothing about her. He folded his napkin and put it on the table with a deliberate flourish. 

‘That’s it for me, how about you, how are you involved in all this?’ He said.

‘Like you I am here for the awards.’ She replied, her voice earnest but thick with reticence. For an instant he wondered at her reluctance to share her story. Impatient, he decided to answer his own question rather than wait for her to elaborate.

A small smile flicked across his face. 

‘So you are part of the organising committee then.’ He stated. He was pleased that he had her placed.

‘No, like you I am here for the awards.’ She corrected him.

He picked up his napkin again, his full attention on refolding it and placing it back on the table. With this deliberate task completed he spoke to her again. 

 ‘Alright ... so what is it that you do again?’

‘I’m a rocket scientist.’ She replied.

‘No, be serious with me, what do you do?’ He said, struggling to keep any hint of amusement out of his voice.

‘Well, to be fair, rocket scientist is not strictly true. I am a physicist but my interests make me more of a propulsion engineer these days.’ Before he could say anything more she stood up, thanked him for his company and left.

All that week he sought her out. She didn’t avoid him but she didn’t make any special time for him either. 

She understood what he wanted. She knew that he could not see the problem. She, unlike him, appreciated why the word history is constructed the way it is. 

Immediately after the final award ceremony, and again when he returned home, he approached her about working together. Their fields of research complimented each other he argued.

She agreed to stay in touch with him only if it was a private friendship, a personal friendship. He battled with his disappointment but in the end promised her he would abide by her rules.

Never again were they seen together until seventeen years later, when they were both back at the awards. They were seated beside each other again at the welcome dinner.

She asked what he did. He declined to answer.

He asked what she did. She declined to answer.

All there marvelled at how two such minds ever existed and how their separate discoveries led to the bending of time and the folding of space. Most questioned why they had never collaborated, and still refused to do so. Was it a personal dislike they had for each other? Was their rivalry too great?

Diligent history records the twice they met for dinner, details their individual astonishing achievements, notes facts about their dedicated lives and mourns both of their deaths.

Some find it strange that there is no record of the burial places of these revered minds who changed the course of human history. But there is one who knows where their remains are - their daughter.

She knew they did not want to be earthbound, or apart, for eternity. So, during her command of an outward bound Starship, she committed her parents’ ashes to the solar winds somewhere on the far side of the galaxy.

History knows nothing of this and it never will. The commander guards her mother’s place in history.