Chapter 09: Mork Thompson ponders the mental residue of a recent dream and the newly expanded Forks make sightseeing plans before resuming research interviews. 

Professor T. was already settled by the time Billie set the parking brake in Silverthorne. Behind the privacy curtain, he was reading a novel illuminated by a clip-on book light. This week he was well into an uncensored version of Oscar Wilde’s Picture of Dorian Gray. As he pondered ideas articulated by Wilde, such as the intertwining of intellect and spirit, his attention turned back to the dream from the night before. In this dream, artifacts of science and religion were swirling in opposition, a spiraling motion like a hurricane or the stars making up the Milky Way. It seemed as if these icons were exhibiting an attractive and repellant influence on each other simultaneously, both maintaining and dispersing the spiraling motion. It seemed to Professor T. that an irreconcilability of the nation’s warring cultural forces resembled this image, and perhaps could be better understood through a similar frame. 

“Sweet dreams, everyone,” Billie was in a rare bubbly mood.

“I’ll decide,” Jack was not.

“Thank you,” Buck yawned.

“Humph,” Professor T. turned the page.

Tomorrow would be a new day, they would arrive in Salt Lake City in time to enjoy a relaxing dinner, then a couple full days of sightseeing and wanderings before getting back to work gaining insights from people in the area. Jack wanted to take an excursion to nearby Park City. He had heard some great stories of après-ski babes in the off-season, and he wanted to mingle with the singles. Billie asked about his squeeze back home, Jackie Blue. 

“She bailed,” said Jack. “She’s got ADD bad. She knew she’d get bored with me being gone weeks on end. It’s all good… we were starting to get stale anyway.”

“That’s an interesting relationship assessment,” said Billie. “Whatever happened to romance?”

“You’re one to talk,” Jack said with a smirk. “Billie the man-eater is nostalgic for romance, hash-tag LOL.”

Billie winked. “Don’t believe a word of it,” she was looking at Buck. “I still believe… just waiting for the right combination. It’s not my fault i was born this fabulous. The right one’s out there somewhere… i just know it.”

“You’re cursed with super model looks and the hide of a 21st century Annie Oakley,” said Jack. “Good luck finding your Wild Bill, or Calamity Jane, or whatever. I’m sure they’re out there somewhere.”

Professor T. could hear this exchange mingling with the mental formation of Wilde’s words leaping off the Dorian Gray pages and it added to his reverie of the spiraling forces of intellect and spirit. He paused the reading a moment to listen as Billie, Jack and Buck’s friendly banter carried on from topic to to topic with a relaxed ease. Professor T. smiled. He was glad to have Buck Wellstone added to the gang. The music of his slight southern drawl mixed in with Billie’s melodious tones and Jack’s witty sarcasm was music to Professor T. He was fading. He closed the book the voices trailed and he drifted off to sleep.

“So what should we do first in Utah,” asked Jack?

“I’ve always wanted to see MOAB,” said Billie.

“I’ve been there,” Buck interjected. “It’s amazing, but we need motorcycles to properly get the full effect. Hiking takes too long.” Do you think Professor T.’s up for that?”

“Oh yeah,” Said Jack. “He’s a trooper… he’ll keep up with anything we can throw at him.”

“Ain’t that right,” Billie directed the question to Mork’s sleeping birth?

Silence.

“Well… i guess that’s it for the skipper. I think i’m next,” said Jack. “We’ll see ya’ll in the morning.”

Billie made her way to the back of the Chool Bus to brush her teeth and whatever else she does before settling into her sleeping birth. Buck, feeling a bit self conscious still waited for everyone to get settled before heading that way himself. He pulled out his phone and checked his emails while Billie did her thing. Within a few moments the Forks were off to the MOAB painted desert dreamland.

NEXT WEEK:
The Forks spend a day among the “bougie” natives of Park City and Professor T. receives some troubling news from home.