Prospero's Ghost

Part IV: McMaster University - Present Day

McMaster University – Present Day

Placing the book carefully on the Kirtas APT 2400 scanner, Matthew reached up to adjust the focus of the top left camera.

While disappointed that Dr. Hamill hadn't stayed with him, as he had more questions and enjoyed listening to tales about the university's history from his mentor, he also found joy in the solitude offered by his role. Slipping the ear buds back on, he pressed play on his mp3 player and then adjusted the attachments that would hold the pages flat while they were scanned.

As Matthew turned toward the keyboard to enter specifications into the software that ran the machine, he didn't hear the creak of the door opening behind him.

He'd just entered the keystrokes to begin the process that would capture a digital image of each page, then carefully turn the pages until the entire book was photographed - a process that took no more than about fifteen minutes - when a shadow fell over him.

Matthew turned to see who was there.

# # #

It had been a long day at the library. Nancy Irving, rubbing the back of her neck with a tired hand, headed into the special collections section. Students could be so demanding some days. There was just one more book to return before finally calling it a day.

As she passed by the scan room, she noticed the light was on. Knowing Dr. Hamill was in his office, she could only assume that Matthew Phillips was still in there, tinkering around with the library's new toy. She stopped and checked her watch. It was well past Matthew's finishing time. She sighed. For such a bright boy, he could be so absentminded. If it wasn't his pass card, it was his water bottle or his glasses. Now it seemed his forgetfulness had moved onto leaving the lights on.

When Nancy entered the room, the machine was humming. She frowned as she noticed that the book still in the machine was quite old. This had to be more than just carelessness on Matthew's part. Dr. Hamill spoke so highly of him, and she had personally seen the boy with the books. He was always so careful.

She was about to reach for the mouse, to turn off the screen saver and start the shut down process when the figure in the corner caught her attention.

The young man was pushed into the corner, as though backing away from something until the walls had stopped his progress. The body was pale and rigid, but it was the look of sheer terror on Matthew Phillips' face that froze the scream building in Nancy Irving's throat.

He was dead.

Yet still standing – rigid, like a stone statue.

# # #

Dr. Richard Hamill ignored the carriage clock on his book shelf as it chimed the late hour. Without family to go home to, his office had been his refuge after many a trying day, but there was no peace tonight.

He stared into the amber liquid that swirled in the short square glass in his hand. It was usually a calming movement, meant to still the mind, but instead it just brought up more questions.

The police had long removed the body of poor Matthew Phillips and were now finishing up their crime scene investigation. He should be down there, making sure they didn't damage any of the precious and fragile editions that lay in the collection, but he couldn't bring himself to enter those rooms. Not yet.

Nancy Irving had been given a strong sedative and taken home by her sister who worked in the campus bookstore. Of all the people in the library, it would have to be the most sensitive and kindly of women to find a body. Had it been Mora Collins, the slightly Gothic intern in the map room, perhaps there wouldn't have been quite the kerfuffle. Richard sighed. With Nancy's dramatics, it was guaranteed that the entire campus would know the elaborate version of the grisly discovery before the morning papers hit the doorsteps.

But it wasn't the bad press Richard Hamill feared. It wasn't the badgering of the campus and city police that pushed him to pull out his secret bottle from the bottom drawer of his desk and seek solace in its amber glow.

It was that book.

Professor Emerson's book of Shakespeare. That was the volume found in the machine by Nancy Irving before she turned and saw Matthew's horrified face. The computer had long since completed its scan before the young man was discovered. The information now waited for transfer to the bookstore so the book could be printed out on their new-fangled book machine.

Professor Prospero's favorite volume. The jewel of his collection.

Richard took a swig of his drink, closing his eyes as it coated the heavy spot in his belly with a layer of warmth. But it didn't penetrate the feeling; the dread that had started growing there ever since Matthew had expressed an interest in the book's history.

Prospero had loved that book so, and now it seemed he had come back to reclaim it.

Richard raised his glass to the dim light around him.

“Welcome home, Marshall. Welcome home.”