Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 127712 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 639(@200wpm)___ 511(@250wpm)___ 426(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 127712 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 639(@200wpm)___ 511(@250wpm)___ 426(@300wpm)
“Plato?” I do not even pretend to hide my skepticism.
“You heard me.” Olsen chuckles. “This was the first building ever built on the island. It’s been repaired, rehabbed, whatever. Several times, actually. But the dome is original. And this was the style back then.”
As I have noted, several times, actually, I am not an architectural expert. But lots of places in the United States have classical buildings like this. Washington D.C., for one. But many other places too. So what Olsen is saying, without actually saying it, is that the Institute is as old as America itself.
And that doesn’t surprise me. I am not a history buff by any means, but pretty much everyone knows that the Founding Fathers were all in secret societies. When I was choosing an undergrad, William and Mary was on my list. So, of course, I did some research on the history of the place. One of the oldest colleges in America. Also has the oldest secret society. I wasn’t specifically looking for information like that, but it pops up automatically. Part of the ‘charm’ or whatever.
I let out a breath. “I love it.”
“I knew you would.” He starts walking again and several other people enter the entrance with us. I can’t stop myself from looking up and around at the interior… patio? Portico? Whatever the space between the columns and the actual building is called. There is a whole scene up there done up in bas-relief. People in togas and horses pulling chariots.
But this awe only lasts a moment because I am let into the dining hall. Of course, it’s round. And not as big as it looked on the outside. The dome inside is also gold and I get lost in it for a moment, almost become breathless from the beauty of it. But there’s so much to see, I don’t allow my thoughts to linger. Instead, I just take it all in. I soak it up.
The floor is checkerboard black and white, like the library. And it’s so clean and shiny, it’s like a mirror. I almost chuckle out loud when I look down at my shoes and realize the black squares really are a mirror. And while I can’t see up my dress, there is a perfect reflection almost to my knees.
The entirety of the interior space is filled with round tables that seat nine. And while it’s not cramped—there is plenty of room to walk in between them, because Olsen is leading me through this maze—it is all very cozy. I find it hard to believe that everyone on the island could fit into this one room at the same time, but when I do a quick check of the tables, there are thirty-five of them. I might not know much about architecture or history, but I can math like a champ. So there are more than enough seats for three hundred and one people.
I expect there to be… I dunno. Some sort of pre-dinner small talk. Like one might do before one goes to the opera or theatre. But people must be hungry because they are taking their seats.
And they don’t do this casually. There seems to be a system.
Olsen leads me to a table near the center of the circle. There is a podium in the exact middle, but a set of tables surround it. Mercer is waiting—looking in my direction—at one of them.
“Well.” Olsen stops. “We must part ways, Ryan. I sit over there.” He nods his chin in some indeterminate direction. “But it has been my pleasure to walk you. Mercer will take it from here.”
I look up at Olsen and smile. “Thanks. I guess I’ll see you later?”
“I’ll knock once before I go to bed to check in. But only once. Don’t feel obligated to stay up for the check-in. If you’re comfortable enough to sleep, you don’t need my attention.”
“Got it.”
Then he bows a little, turns, and walks off.
I turn as well, facing Mercer. He was waiting for Olsen to leave, but now he comes towards me. “We’re over here, Nova.”
He points to a chair, pulls it out, and I’m already sitting when I realize that he just called me by my given name.
I like it.
I don’t feel like a Ryan. I am Nova. And even though it was probably a slip-up on his part, it makes me happy. He sits across from me, not next to me. Which is also nice. Because now I can see him. But he’s really too far away to talk to. This is one of the reasons I’ve never liked circular tables.
There is no ceremony or speech to welcome me. And I’m relieved at that. Instead, servers appear wearing the classic black and white uniform and food is delivered on plates covered with silver domes.
I’m no stranger to fancy dinners. I’ve been to my share at this point in my life. But do they eat this way every night?