Non Quixote

By Sam Hamilton

In a certain corner of Pennsylvania there lived one of those country bumpkins, who played football in a public high school and whose parents' mantel was lined with the academic and athletic achievement awards which are presented to all participants of an activity or class, regardless of talent or dedication.

The boy was said to go by the name Jack, even though his first name was Ryan, and he always held a little contempt for his parents for having given him two first names, "Ryan" and "Jack", for a full name, even though the latter was in no way their fault, a fact which Ryan Jack knew, but chose to ignore on principle.

During the holiday season of Jack's senior year, when he opened a large box which he knew was going to contain an X-Box, Jack was simultaneously surprised and angered when he found three large stacks of books.

"What the hell's this shit?" he demanded.

"Jackie, watch yer mouth, it's Christmas," his mother said.

"We figgered you outta start readin'," his father said, fitting a fresh Iron City into the new Pittsburgh Steelers beer cozy he had just unwrapped, "C'mon, son, there's some good books innere." His father motioned at a book Jack had picked up. "That one there's good, it's 'bout this spook that's fightin' terrorists..."

"Like, Karl Johnson? Our team's tailback?"

Jack's father paused. "No, Jack, a CIA agent. Anyway, this CIA guy has to fight terrorism in Ireland n'stuff 'n he pisses off the head terrorist guy - it's good. The rest're by the same guy, too. Tom Clancy, I think his name is."

Jack hid the box of books in his closet and resigned to never pick them up again. His plans changed; however, when in one of the final spring football practices of his high school career, he shattered most of the bones in his right hand trying to slam-dunk a football over the goal post. Deprived of his ability to use his hand, Jack searched for alternative forms of entertainment and eventually found the box of Clancy books while searching through old boxes of GI Joes. He picked one out of the pile and read its title.

" The Sum of All Fears . Sounds cool." Jack sat down at the head of his bed and began reading. "'Like the wolf on the fold.' In recounting the Syrian attack on Israeli-held Golan Heights at 1400 local time on Saturday, the 6 th of October, 1973 ..."

Jack became a junkie, immersed in the realism of Clancy's novels, tearing through the stories in which Jack Ryan had saved the day.

* * *

Jack's college years were as unimpressive as his high school years. But this time, he made a few friends; Rick was a proud man with a checkered past; Steve was shady and driven, and Jack suspected him of wanting to prosper at any cost; Carol was sophisticated and beautiful and was the object of his secret longing.

And so, when, in their junior year, Carol was asked to withdraw her application for the Barry M. Goldwater Scholarship for unspecified reasons, Jack suspected that some treacherous behavior was afoot and he begin to investigate.

He was ready to save the day and win the girl.

"Hey, Rick, y'know where they process scholarships n'file 'em n'stuff?" Jack asked, sidling around the corner of his buddy's opened door.

"In the basement of Sutton, I think. Why?"

"I need to go dig around fer some info on Carol. They asked her to withdraw her application fer the Goldwater thing and she's real upset about it." Rick frowned.

"Hey, boys! How are you, today?" Steve asked, sauntering into the room.

"Hey, Steve," Rick and Jack said in unison. Jack noticed a manila folder in Steve's hand, memorizing the look of its cover.

"Did I hear you guys talking about the Goldwater scholarship? Don't bother applying for it; I've got it squared away. Me and Dr. Gogol are like this." Steve crossed his fingers. Rick and Jack stared at him. "Right, well, d'you fellas want to grab a bite to eat?"

"Nah, man, I just had Easy Mac," Jack lied.

"Yeah, sorry, man, I just had a sandwich."

"Alright, lamers, see you around."

"Whaddya think he meant by 'squared away'?" Jack asked.

"Dunno man. Wanna go check out the scholarship office and get some lunch?"

"Sure, but first we need to go to the I-Card office."

As they walked the short distance from their dorm to the Student Union, Jack imagined the trip taking place in slow motion. He gracefully reached into his pocket for a cigarette and slowly brought his lighter up to its tip.

"Man, what the hell are you doin'?" Rick asked.

"Oh, sorry, nothing." Jack lit the cigarette and scanned the crowd of passing students. Did that guy just whisper something into his collar? What's that bulge in that girl's jacket?

"You alright, man, you seem a little shifty."

"Yeah, yeah. I'm fine, Rick. Look, let's go in the back way, I don't want anyone to see us."

Rick paused. "Alright, man, whatever."

Jack slid down the alley between the Testing Center and the Student Union. He hopped over a handrail and pressed himself against the brick wall by a service entrance. Rick shook his head and walked around the railing.

"I guess we'll have to pick the lock. Watch fer anybody."

"Man, you're so weird. It's open. Just go in."

Rick opened the door and Jack paused like an actor who forgot his next line. He then followed Rick into the building. In the service hallway, Jack took out his I-Card and began prying at its microchip.

"Man, what the hell are you doin'? Now you aren't gonna be able to do laundry!"

"Shh, I know what I'm doin'."

Jack finally popped the microchip out and walked out into the Student Union's main lobby. The I-Card office was across the floor, next to the PNC Bank kiosk. Jack made a quick survey of the room and hurried across. He greeted the girl at the I-Card desk by sliding a twenty dollar bill across the counter.

"I broke the chip in my card and I need a new one. My name is Steve McGeery ."

"Uuh, you're name is Ryan Jack. I can't...change your name." The girl slid the twenty dollars back across the counter.

"Very well then," he reached into his back pocket and pulled out an envelope of photos and handed them to the girl. When she looked at them, she covered her mouth and began to cry a little.

"This...this was at the Omega house. My sisters and I...we thought the jungle juice was a little strong...oh my God." She burst into tears.

"How's your boyfriend, Jenna? Still alive over in Iraq ?"

At the scholarship office, Jack tried his best to adopt Steve's mannerisms. "Hi, I'm Steve McGeery. I need my file regarding the Goldwater Scholarship. Here's my I-Card."

"Uh, sure, one second." The clerk retrieved a manila folder.

"Man, what the hell are you doing ?" Rick asked in a hushed voice as they sat in the corner of the reception area.

"I know, man, but he sabotaged Carol's chances at the scholarship. I know it. But, there's nothing here. Essays, transcripts, recommendations. Oh. My. God."

"What, what, did you find something?"

"Steve's middle name is Leslie!"

"Hey boys, what's that you got there?" Jack and Rick froze as Steve walked into the office. "Hope it's not for the Goldwater scholarship."

"That's it, man," Jack whispered to Rick.

"We're fucked. Jesus, Jack, what the hell did you get me into?"

"Hi there, I'm Steve McGeery, I need to check up on my file for the Goldwater Scholarship." Jack inched closer to the counter, closer to Steve and closer to the manila folder. "What do you mean? Here's my I-Card right here!" Jack crouched down behind a ficus plant. " He has it? But his name is Ryan Jack! I'm Steve McGeery!" Jack rushed out from behind his cover, threw Steve's Goldwater papers into the air and grabbed the folder out of his hand. "HEY! WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING!?"

Jack rushed out of the office to the stairs. He shoved past a man with a mop, knocking him down several steps. He bounded up the stairs into the first door he found.

It opened up to a room filled with people dressed in dinner suits and formal gowns. He saw the University President, who glanced over at him with a look of confused distaste. There was an exit in the back. He rushed toward it, bumping into several elaborate flower displays and causing a waiter to spill a tray full of scrumptious crab cakes into a woman's lap.

When he was in the hall, Jack began rifling through the folder's contents. "Translate using the following key: A = Alec smokes, B = Ben drinks, H = Harrison is healthy. Alec smokes if Harrison is healthy. Harrison is healthy and Ben drinks if Alec doesn't smoke...it must be in some sort of code!"

Rick ran up to Jack. "Steve's lookin' all over for you! He just went in to the Dr. Donald's birthday party tellin' all the administrators that you're screwin' around with his file!"

"It's encoded! This is the why Carol couldn't apply for the Goldwater Scholarship!"

"Man, Carol couldn't apply for that scholarship because she's an idiot. When she told Dr. Gogol she wanted to apply, he laughed at her!"

Just then a door flew in, and a group of men raced in wearing black suits. Jack gasped in horror. The CIA! "OH MY GOD! SPOOKS! RUN, RICK, THEY'RE GONNA SHOOT US!"

The last thing Jack saw before he was beaten unconscious by the lead tenor of the Indiana Area's First Baptist Choir that had been asked to sing for the President's birthday party was Rick standing with his hands on his head and Steve, surrounded by administrators, with a satisfied look on his face.