Trevor had been working out at the gym for one and a half hours, feeling his arms and chest tired. He got up from the push-up machine, wiped sweat with a towel draped over his shoulder, and ended the recording on his smart watch. As the fitness focus mode ceased, he saw one missed phone call and one message, both from Lady Bella.
“Hi, Bella, what’s up? I’m at the gym, just finished working out,” he said, moving to a quiet corner and calling her back.
“Hi, Trevor, you finally answered. Could you come to the Dressrious Salon right now? I need someone to talk. I’ll buy you a drink.”
“Now? Sure, is something wrong?” he asked with concern.
“An accident happened. My professor just passed away,” she spoke tearfully.
“Sorry to hear that… I’ll be there soon, wait for me.”
After hanging up, Trevor found Spion on a treadmill. This guy seemed to have boundless energy, never feeling tired after hours of heavy exercise. From his tight black tank top and leggings, you could see his muscles were not bulky but full of defined strength. Although Spion told Trevor he started exercising in high school and did marathons, triathlons, and Spartan races often, Trevor still thought he had a military body.
“I have to go,” Trevor walked to the treadmill and told Spion.
Spion paused the machine. “Wait for me five minutes to finish this turn.”
“No, I got an emergency call from Lady Bella. Her professor just passed away, and she needs someone to talk to at the Salon.”
“I’ll go with you,” Spion ended the running program abruptly. “We planned to eat something after the workout, right?”
“Okay, take a quick shower first, then let’s go.”
It was a Tuesday night, so there were no major party events at the Dressrious Salon. The party hall now served as a pub lounge for anyone wanting to drink, relax, or socialize at night. Still, the place was full of guests.
Trevor and Spion left their coats and gym bags in the checkroom and found Bella at the bar.
“Thank you for coming,” Bella said, pulling Trevor into a hug.
“How are you holding up?” Trevor asked.
“Fine. I just got back from the hospital, drank a glass of Sidecar, and now I feel better.” As Bella spoke, they sat at the counter. “Who is the guy?” Bella finally noticed Trevor’s companion.
“This is Spion,” Trevor introduced them. “Spion, Lady Bella.”
“You’re the Spion. Trevor talks a lot about you,” Bella said with a sly smile, looking between the two men.
“I only mentioned him once today,” Trevor muttered defensively.
“Nice to meet you, My Lady. Spion Frank at your service,” Spion got out of the chair, took off an imaginary hat, and bowed dramatically, like in old times.
Bella was amused. “Quite a gentleman. So, what do you want to drink, or eat? It’s all on me.”
They ordered: Old Fashioned for Spion, Whiskey Sour for Trevor, and a Manhattan for Bella. They also ordered snacks: caviar canapés, salmon crostini, and buffalo wings. Unfortunately, all the tables were full, so they remained at the counter. Bella then recounted what happened at the book signing. After hearing about the accident, she and Olivia rushed to the hospital, but it was a car accident, and nothing could be done.
“Olivia and the professor’s students will hold a commemoration in his honor tomorrow afternoon. I will attend, so I’ve canceled tomorrow’s schedules and will stay in the city tonight. Just remind me, I need to tell my assistant to buy a suitable outfit for the meeting; I can’t be dressed like this,” Bella said, starting to text her assistant.
Their caviar canapés arrived. Bella ate one, then continued, “I haven’t seen him in person for three years. I was really looking forward to the meeting. The Gods are just unfair. He was a wonderful professor, with lofty academic pursuits, and kind to his students too.” She took a heavy hardcover book from her bag. “I’ll miss him by reading his words.”
Trevor looked at the book’s title: Wars and Innovations: How the Promethean Spark Spread Globally. “What is it talking about?” Trevor took the book from Bella, looking at the cover. Spion leaned over to look, too.
“It’s an answer to this year’s Nobel laureate, Michael Maker’s book, Athena’s Gifts. Maker’s book focuses on culture and knowledge to explain economic growth, but my professor thought that only explains the creation but not the spreading. It couldn’t explain how and why some knowledge spreads rapidly, while some couldn’t or just spreads slowly. Some of the innovations in the Industrial Revolution were already invented before—steam engines, stock exchanges—they existed in ancient times, but only from the 18th century did they become a catalyst for major change.”
“That’s a very good point. What was the professor’s opinion?” Trevor was genuinely curious.
“Because of conflicts and competitions,” Bella paused, taking a drink, then continued, “He uses historical data and Hegelian dialectic to give a deep explanation: the conflicts between individual desires and reality, the conflicts between creations and market needs, market competitors, and finally, the competitions between nations, which ultimately lead to major conflict—war. The goddess Athena is not only the goddess of wisdom but also a goddess of war. So, in the end of the book, he also feared that our last economic prosperity since World War II may be ending, and the current economic slowdown may lead to a new war. He theorized that the Gods don’t care about individuals, only the world as a whole. If the world needs to continue developing, a world-wide war may be inevitable in the Gods’ hands.”
They all held their breath for a moment. Finally, Spion said, “That makes sense. The war between the Islandiya Empire and the Kyiv Duchy may indeed lead to World War Three. Recently, the Federal Ministry of Defence of the Deutsch Kingdoms announced they are bringing back mandatory military service registration. The West may openly join Kyiv against Islandiya’s invasion.” He took the book from Trevor, staring at the author profile. “Professor Marcus Lucius Antonius. He’s from my college, The Academy of New Athens.”
“You know him?” Trevor asked.
“Sadly, no. He taught economic history,” Spion replied, still looking at the profile.
“Let’s toast to him, shall we?” Seeing Bella still a little sad, Trevor proposed.
“In honor of Professor Marcus Lucius Antonius.” They all toasted, drinking the last drop of their cocktails.
“Do you know the Professor? A really sad tragedy,” Bob, the bartender, who was cleaning a glass, overheard them and said. “I saw him yesterday. He ordered two drinks and gave me a lecture about how government regulations are usually useless, like the Prohibition Era—not only did it not work, but it also developed a speakeasy culture.”
“Sounds like him… Wait, you saw him yesterday, here?” Bella asked, surprised.
“Yes, he came here yesterday night and even booked a room for overnight.”
“That’s strange. He had a book signing today. Why did he come here yesterday and stay the night?”
“Maybe he wanted to discuss details about the book signing, and after having a few drinks, he couldn’t drive so he stayed the night. You can ask Shemsu if you want; he’s in charge of book events and met with him yesterday,” Bob suggested.
“Did the professor come alone?” Bella pressed.
“Yes, I think so. I didn’t see him with anyone else,” Bob recalled.
“Hmm… if I want to discuss an event, I always bring my assistant, because I don’t care about the details. If it was about the book signing, why didn’t he bring Olivia?” Bella wondered out loud.
“Maybe he wanted to know or confirm something by himself, or also meet someone, who knows,” Trevor shrugged. “We can ask Shemsu, if you want.”
“He was off work. You can ask him tomorrow,” Bob said, moving on to make a drink for another guest.
They finished their snacks. Bella wanted another round of drinks, but Trevor and Spion said no. “I think you’ve had enough. Maybe get a good sleep,” Trevor suggested gently.
“Only two, but you’re right, I don’t want to become an alcoholic again. Thank you two for the company,” Bella said, calling her driver. “Where do you live? I can give you two a ride.”
Spion was about to decline, but Trevor quickly jumped in: “Well, it’s a chance to ride in a limousine! You can come to my apartment, sleep over, and go to the Academy tomorrow.”
“Sure,” Spion grinned.
They waited and chatted for a moment until the driver arrived, then got out together.