Breakfast in Vienna
They call me Number One, the name reflecting my position as spokesperson for Doctor Michel de Nostradamus. I have been so employed for a decade.
I am 35 years old. I grew up in a privately funded New England orphanage and know nothing of my biological parents other than the genetic gifts they passed on to me.
I am clearly of a mixed race heritage and move easily among a number of varied racial and ethnic groups. But my racial identity is blurred and does not appear to trigger racial animus in those so inclined. I'm ordinary. I fit in.
Along with good health, I received through my parents a native intelligence fairly described as normal or average. I have a good memory and like most people, can master difficult subjects if I work hard enough. It is clear the inspired genius of great mathematicians and musicians and artists will forever lie beyond my reach. I was fortunate to have had excellent tutors and instructors, and the opportunity for higher education.
What is extraordinary about my life is not my genetic inheritance or what I have made of myself -- or not -- but the simple circumstance of being orphaned as an infant and left on the doorstep of Dr. Nostradamus' orphanage.
Dr. N did not live at the orphanage and appeared at irregular intervals accompanied by a tall gray haired woman introduced as Mrs. Nostradamus. The Dr. and Mrs. did not deal directly with the children but worked intensely with the exceptional and dedicated staff.
I think of my boyhood home as inseparable from Dr. Nostradamus. I don't know that he ever had an official title, but he was always treated with great deference by the staff and whenever he and the Mrs. visited we children would be lined up to greet them. I never spoke to him. To tell the truth we kids were scared of him. There were stories that he was 300 years old; that he was Merlin the magician; that he could fly. Magical stories children tell themselves and each other.
By the time I left the orphanage and academy for university I had not seen Dr. or Mrs. Nostradamus for several years and my memory of them faded. At 21 I graduated and set out to travel the world and seek my fortune. I wandered, working a variety of jobs. I was a bouncer for two months in Berlin. I was a bank teller, a chef, a brick layer. I ran a souvenir shop near the Eiffel Tower. And more. I enjoyed them all and went everywhere.
Finally, in the spring of 2009, I landed in Austria. Settling in, I applied for more respectable work at a Vienna based publishing company. Forgiving my erratic work history as a youthful fling, the human resources manager said they were looking for someone with my credentials. I was on my way.
On a warm Sunday morning in August, 2009, I went for breakfast with my girlfriend to a little cafe on the Sonnwendgasse, recovering after a night celebrating my first big promotion.
We took an open window table and ordered up coffee to clear the fog of last night's festivities. I breathed in the fresh morning air mixing with the aroma of hot pastries. Another couple sat at a far table; an old man was at the counter, his back to us.
I was happy, Ingrid was happy, we chatted about this and that.
Mid-sentence Ingrid stopped talking and looked up to a voice from behind me, "Pardon me, Mademoiselle." Then to me, "Good morning, Number One."
I looked, then stood up, "My God... is it....?'
The old man that had been at the counter continued, "Number One, can we meet in your office tomorrow morning? I'll only take a few minutes."
I didn't know what to say, "....Yeah, sure."
"Nine-thirty then." The old man tipped his hat to Ingrid, "Mademoiselle," and walked away.
We watched him go.
Ingrid was irritated, "Who was that, your boss? Are you okay?"
I hesitated. "No, he's not my boss... maybe... I don't know. It's a big company."
"But you do know him? What’s with this number one?"
"Yes....I know him."
"And....?" Ingrid said.
"Merlin... his name is Merlin."
Six weeks later I landed at LAX, single again, ready to start my new job.
Dixi
Note from me LLP:
Interesting. Turns out Number One is a real person, with a real life.
LLP
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