gateway recognized him and shouted, “Hey, Tesla!”
The busy stranger turned around and a smile lit up his face: “Szigety!”
“Where have you been?” The nighttime lover caught up with Tesla.
Szigety noticed that Tesla had a sharp but classical profile. His nose was like a road sign he followed with haste. Tesla’s high brow bulged between his eyes. The voice in which he responded was raspy and quiet: “I worked late, so I got all foggy inside. I took myself out for a walk, like I was a dog.”
Under his arm Tesla had Voltaire’s Philosophical Dictionary , one of the hundred volumes people said he had sworn he would read.
“I’ve just walked my sweetheart home.” Szigety tried to suppress the triumph in his voice. “If you’ll allow me, how are things for you… in that regard?”
“What?” Tesla asked.
“What do you mean, ‘what?’ Do you have a girlfriend?”
Szigety’s question was in a language Tesla did not speak. His eyebrows knotted and he assumed an anguished expression. He did not respond. When the silence grew uncomfortable, Szigety raised his arms: “Oh, please, please! I didn’t mean anything by it.”
“No, it’s all right,” Tesla said kindly.
Nikola had nothing to say on that topic. While still in Karlovac, Mojo Medić chided him for avoiding girls “like the plague.” In Graz, he stayed away from those displays of God’s nature even more. Szigety was amazed by his fellow student’s reaction to the mention of the most fascinating thing in the world. He decided to turn left at the next corner and leave this oddball alone with his Voltaire. At the corner, he showed his perfect teeth and remarked that he was going a different way. In order to make up for his sudden change of direction, he mumbled, “Maybe we could have breakfast at Alexander’s sometime?”
“Great!” Tesla said. “Tomorrow at nine?”
Szigety was sure his hardworking classmate would not accept the invitation. As he did so, Szigety exclaimed without thinking, “No, wait a minute…”
“What?” Nikola responded.
Szigety pulled out his pocket watch. The hands piggybacked on the Roman “I.”
“It’s been Monday for a while,” Szigety informed his colleague. “How much sleep do you get?”
Tesla’s eyes were the color of a wild chestnut fresh from the shell. Sparks flashed in those unusual eyes and he said, “Out of twenty-four hours, I sleep four.”
Late-riser Szigety cursed under his breath. “All right then,” he sighed. “I’ll see you at Alexander’s at nine.”
They both went home—Szigety to float in bliss from Ulrike’s embraces and then to sleep, and Tesla to work long into the night. Finally, the latter turned off his lights as well. The night streamed on while people snored under the high roofs. Then the indigo sky paled. A rose-fingered dawn touched the roofs as the sun began to rouse the world: first the Austro-Hungarian Empire, then the city of Graz. The students Antal Szigety and Nikola Tesla arose, dressed, and—in accordance with their commitment—went to meet at Alexander’s.
“Come in, please come in,” the owner of the café greeted his first customers of the morning. Big Elsa’s and Little Elsa’s smiling faces were arrayed above identical collars and aprons. At forty, Big Elsa was more attractive than her daughter. She gazed into Szigety’s eyes a bit longer than necessary. Antal and Nikola chose a table near the window, sunlit and covered with a checkered tablecloth. Little Elsa, pug-nosed like a bat, had quick movements and a broad smile on her face. In the blink of an eye, coffee cups appeared, nestled on lace napkins. Dew-beaded balls of butter curled in a silver bowl. In a basket, buns lay covered with a cloth to keep them hot. The sunlight that warmed Szigety’s cheek fell on a small jar of apricot jam. The atmosphere was pleasant from the very beginning. Their conversation was spontaneous and in a half hour the young men dropped their air of
The busy stranger turned around and a smile lit up his face: “Szigety!”
“Where have you been?” The nighttime lover caught up with Tesla.
Szigety noticed that Tesla had a sharp but classical profile. His nose was like a road sign he followed with haste. Tesla’s high brow bulged between his eyes. The voice in which he responded was raspy and quiet: “I worked late, so I got all foggy inside. I took myself out for a walk, like I was a dog.”
Under his arm Tesla had Voltaire’s Philosophical Dictionary , one of the hundred volumes people said he had sworn he would read.
“I’ve just walked my sweetheart home.” Szigety tried to suppress the triumph in his voice. “If you’ll allow me, how are things for you… in that regard?”
“What?” Tesla asked.
“What do you mean, ‘what?’ Do you have a girlfriend?”
Szigety’s question was in a language Tesla did not speak. His eyebrows knotted and he assumed an anguished expression. He did not respond. When the silence grew uncomfortable, Szigety raised his arms: “Oh, please, please! I didn’t mean anything by it.”
“No, it’s all right,” Tesla said kindly.
Nikola had nothing to say on that topic. While still in Karlovac, Mojo Medić chided him for avoiding girls “like the plague.” In Graz, he stayed away from those displays of God’s nature even more. Szigety was amazed by his fellow student’s reaction to the mention of the most fascinating thing in the world. He decided to turn left at the next corner and leave this oddball alone with his Voltaire. At the corner, he showed his perfect teeth and remarked that he was going a different way. In order to make up for his sudden change of direction, he mumbled, “Maybe we could have breakfast at Alexander’s sometime?”
“Great!” Tesla said. “Tomorrow at nine?”
Szigety was sure his hardworking classmate would not accept the invitation. As he did so, Szigety exclaimed without thinking, “No, wait a minute…”
“What?” Nikola responded.
Szigety pulled out his pocket watch. The hands piggybacked on the Roman “I.”
“It’s been Monday for a while,” Szigety informed his colleague. “How much sleep do you get?”
Tesla’s eyes were the color of a wild chestnut fresh from the shell. Sparks flashed in those unusual eyes and he said, “Out of twenty-four hours, I sleep four.”
Late-riser Szigety cursed under his breath. “All right then,” he sighed. “I’ll see you at Alexander’s at nine.”
They both went home—Szigety to float in bliss from Ulrike’s embraces and then to sleep, and Tesla to work long into the night. Finally, the latter turned off his lights as well. The night streamed on while people snored under the high roofs. Then the indigo sky paled. A rose-fingered dawn touched the roofs as the sun began to rouse the world: first the Austro-Hungarian Empire, then the city of Graz. The students Antal Szigety and Nikola Tesla arose, dressed, and—in accordance with their commitment—went to meet at Alexander’s.
“Come in, please come in,” the owner of the café greeted his first customers of the morning. Big Elsa’s and Little Elsa’s smiling faces were arrayed above identical collars and aprons. At forty, Big Elsa was more attractive than her daughter. She gazed into Szigety’s eyes a bit longer than necessary. Antal and Nikola chose a table near the window, sunlit and covered with a checkered tablecloth. Little Elsa, pug-nosed like a bat, had quick movements and a broad smile on her face. In the blink of an eye, coffee cups appeared, nestled on lace napkins. Dew-beaded balls of butter curled in a silver bowl. In a basket, buns lay covered with a cloth to keep them hot. The sunlight that warmed Szigety’s cheek fell on a small jar of apricot jam. The atmosphere was pleasant from the very beginning. Their conversation was spontaneous and in a half hour the young men dropped their air of
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