Date: Mon, 21 May 2007 23:35:59 +0100
From: DAVID OSBORNE <dave@bebetteratmaths.co.uk>
Subject: Callum's Conundrum

Callum's conundrum

Episode 1

"So, as long as we're keeping an eye on recruitment expenses, which means,"
Mike Stoner's attention flicked between the two directors , "that I need
more notice of the resources Dave needs, not that I'm disputing any of
them".  Joe Grbowski's expression had taken on his inscrutable mixture of
amusement and indulgence. "We'll be showing a respectable profit until the
completion of present work, which, of course, doesn't yet include Sven's
proposal."

As the January storm lashed impotently at the windows of the south wing,
obscuring a view of the valley which would be breathtaking in a day or so
("...followed by brighter, showery, but colder weather on Wednesday.."),
Alfred Mellor's Georgian fortress seemed almost to echo the smugness of the
eight men.

"OK, guys, unless there are any further matters arising from Joe's report,
we'll call it a day. I'll be in Munich next week so Joe, you'll be in the
chair. Dinner will be served at eight, and Brad has some sort of
entertainment planned in the Billiard Room."  " Shall I minute that?" Alex
Winter's squirrel-like manner always amused Mike Stoner. "I'd rather you
filmed it actually", which drew a snigger from the secretary.

* * *

Callum Blake frowned at the empty glass in front of him and nodded his
assent as Dennis fluttered his fingers at the pump labeled "Realman's Own".
"Stood you up again, `as `e?" The degree of insincerity had been calculated
as subtle enough to warrant no string of expletives in reply, but audible
enough to sting.  "So it appears, Doris". Callum emphasized the last word
in an attempt to get rid of the wizened form that was beginning to drape
himself around his shoulders.  "Now, now, only asking," Doris wined,
sliding onto the stool next to the burly taxi driver.  "Yeah, well that's
twice this week." Callum sank more than half the pint effortlessly. Doris's
lips pursed and his eyebrows twitched in anticipation of further
revelations, which, at the rate that Callum was drinking, wouldn't be long
in arriving.  "Nearly a year you two've been together, innit?" Twisting the
knife a little further.  " More or less, I suppose. " Callum wasn't
depressive by nature, but he could have done without the verbalization of
his every thought. It wasn't as if Matt was any better a catch than he
himself was -- the sex was awesome, and neither of them took each other's
one- nighters seriously -- but somehow, Matt had changed, and all of
Callum's attempts to get inside that head, with its tousled hair and thick,
black eyebrows, were met with granite resistance.  "E's an arrogant
bastard, if you'll pardon me for saying so". Doris wasn't usually one to
apologise for any of his opinions, but perhaps the anger and frustration
developing in Colin's demeanour prompted the afterthought.  "He can be as
arrogant as he likes as far as I'm concerned, it's one of the things I like
about him", Callum growled, " It really doesn't matter... if he doesn't
turn up to the pub, it's just..", Callum's thoughts materialized into a
concept, " it's a symptom of something, and I've no idea what it is".

Even the unobservant among us have a prodigious memory for details that
involve the ones we love. Patterns are noted, changes become incorporated
into the multi-dimensional picture of another human being as the data is
filed, indexed, and cross- referenced. But Matt's behavior had become
secretive. They used to enjoy exchanging anecdotes about the other guys
they got off with. Now Callum had the extraordinary conviction that some of
Matt's accounts were pure fiction. Callum's conundrum had begun.

Episode 2.

The atmosphere in the boardroom at Mellor Hall bore many resemblances to
that of last weeks gathering, but now the honed instincts of the eight were
engaged in battle. Joe Grbowski was in the chair, having drafted Carl
Ormorod from Toronto to replace Mike Stoner. The original constitution had
stipulated that eight, and only eight board members must be present, on the
grounds that this number would encourage balance deriving from the array of
specialist skills, whilst allowing polarized views to be widely
challenged. The weakest majority vote of five to three (abstentions were
not permitted) represented an acceptable risk of error. Their idiosyncratic
ways were designed to arrive, in Aristotelian fashion, at their consensus,
unconcerned by the metaphorical blood they shed.  "I warned you about
this." Alex Winter's secretarial hat was gone and in its place was
something more akin to a bishop's miter. The others would accept his
intuition with the deepest respect, but would attempt to shatter his
insights with maximum force. Joe looked to Carl first. After a few seconds
thought the statistician, who still sported his blond military buzzcut,
launched a restrained assault, "You were right to do so but the risk is no
greater than it was a week ago and your repeated warnings are an
exaggeration of normal variables."  " One or two aspects fall outside the
domain of your variables." Alex's voice was soft, like his features, but
this was no attempt at seduction. "They were correctly predicted in my
report four weeks ago" "Partially predicted," Dave Halpin interjected. "You
told us that Matthew Grant was the weaker of the two candidates, and I
think we're all agreed you were wrong, which supports Carl's
analysis. However, the scenario you suggested is taking shape before our
eyes and if your extended forecast is correct, we must reject him."  Joe
Grbowski chose this moment for his next pronouncement, which he knew would
sharpen the mental claws of his board. "Wrong! Risks must be balanced
against the potential gain. As our recruitment officer your role is to
maximize the strength of our personnel. This man is ideal for the Hudson
Bay project and to reject him now would delay its commencement by more than
a year". The retort from Andreas Hubner was characteristically cool, "We
have taken risks, yes, and they have created problems, yes, and these
problems have all been solved. You will understand I can solve some
problems and erase others, that is why I am here."  Alex felt the stakes
rising as he saw that his abjurations were almost certainly going to be
overruled. "I don't deny there's an elegance to the employment of Matthew
Grant, and without these complications I would have regarded Carl's data as
the final analysis. I'm simply making you all aware of an unusual
combination of human factors." Now he had to back down and leave them with
the responsibility that would make them uncertain and lead to the most
accurate judgment possible.  "Sven's conception could result in a most
staggering contribution to the world. No country will be left untouched by
our munificence. I have no further data so we must proceed on the basis of
our combined insights."

The vote was taken after another two and a half hours of discussion,
followed by much needed relaxation in the Greenhouse, which offered the
heat and humidity of a summer night on the banks of the Mississippi. The
air was thick with human musk and Carl, the newest director on the board,
marveled at the opportunity that had been offered him, as he and the
hirsute German began their third coupling. In another corner Alex and Dave
writhed in their own lubrication until, at the point of exhaustion, they
collapsed, scarcely able to untangle themselves.  " I wondered about taking
both of them, you know", whispered Dave.  "Yes, I knew you would", replied
Alex, before drifting into sleep.

* * *

" I'll be in Toronto for a couple of days," said Matt, spreading foam over
the weekend's growth which had transformed him from cute to sinister -- a
metamorphosis that Callum never tired of. He smiled as he saw the towering
form of his lover appear behind him, and closed his eyes luxuriously as one
massive hand slipped across his nearly hairless chest, while the other
traced an obvious outline through the front of his white boxers.  "Thanks
for being patient. I can't promise you more than I have, but at least you
know there's no-one else. You do know that, don't you?"  The pain of last
night's interrogation was still apparent as Matt looked at the reflection
of Callum's chiseled features, now softening into a concern that was
sublime.  "Yes, I know," said Callum, with just a hint of resignation. "But
if there are going to be secrets then just keep them that way, because if
you disguise them the way you did it just spoils our fun. And we do have,"
Callum's touch became firmer, "a lot of fun".

Later that morning Callum took a break and parked outside the nondescript
terraced house in Vining Street. The sight of his mother's neighbour at the
top of a ladder cleaning windows made him stare in astonishment as he got
out of the car.  "Mrs Beale, I thought your son normally does that", he
chided, waiting until she looked down at him and checking to see if the
ladder was anchored firmly, which it was, either side of a clump of
polyanthus, one of several in bloom.  "Yes, well he isn't here right now
and I'm not paying those rude boys to do it any more", she snapped, rubbing
the glass with a vigour that could scarcely be exceeded by the "boys", who
he took to be around his own age.  "Please, Mrs Beale, let's get you down
from there and I'll find someone decent for the job," insisted Callum. The
sounds of bolts and chains from inside his mother's house didn't distract
him as he held the ladder for the ex-headmistress who was now descending.
"Thank you Callum, right, well, I'll just go and see to that patch in the
back garden, it should be soft enough to dig with all this rain. Don't move
the ladder, Ben said he'd be back to put it away and he'll wonder what's
happened to it".  Callum shook his head as he stepped over the strip of
grass to the path leading to his mother's front door.

"It's all a million miles from what we knew, Callum". Joan Blake sipped her
tea after dunking a digestive (I know they're not proper ones and prob'ly
made in China or somewhere, but they're so cheap!) "You boys with yer
casual encounters and that. I dunno `ow you keep up with it all, mind you,
yer father `ad a roving eye `an `e never seemed to `ave any trouble, if yer
know wha' I mean." The jovial face cracked into laughter, which prompted a
minor coughing fit.  "Mm, and I hear you've been spotted in the Bay Horse
with Chris Uppington," responded Callum cheekily. "Anyway, he's signed the
Official Secrets Act, so I suppose I should be proud of him."  "Yes, well
you should. E's got it up `ere, `as your Matt, and this country needs men
like `im. We're turning into a whaddycallit, a nanny state, that's what
that chap said on telly last night."

That evening, in the Realmans, Callum smiled neutrally at the insolent
teenager who flaunted his youth and film-star looks at the older and more
masculine types. It was almost tempting to give the boy a shafting he'd
never forget, just to teach him some manners, but Callum felt pretty sure
that this would make him even more insufferable. Better to deny him the
opportunity, thought Callum and returned to the object of his real
concern. Plenty of people do work for the government and many of them are
obliged to sign the Act, but the secrecy is normally limited to facts and
figures. There was no reason to conceal the identity of those that Matt had
to meet. How sensitive could this mathematical modeling be, anyway? The
stuff was academic, published in scientific journals, for goodness
sake. And he's actually mentioned one or two specific names, like that
departmental head in Toronto. No secrecy there. Now they had cleared the
air and he could not justify any further intrusion into his partner's
professional life. He would have to wait, wait for the elements of the
conumdrum to multiply until they reached a critical mass.

Episode 3

Brad Mannering began his final check on the simulation. The model barge
with its array of sensors cruised up and down the lake, sending back
readings as it passed over each of the fifty grid-points. He noted one
discrepancy and clicked on one of the twelve larger circles marked on the
diagram, then selected "power" and adjusted the level until the anomaly was
corrected. He could see no difference in the brightness of the source above
him, attached to steel girders which had made an eyesore of the natural
cavern.

Finally he was satisfied with the effect. It was not completely uniform but
then neither was nature, and after all, this was only the first medium
scale test. Later that day he would meet with Mark Chin and collect the
improved monomer. Stretching himself in the black leather chair, Brad
clicked on Alex's latest update and grinned as he watched once more the
scenes in the changing room at the health club frequented by the slim
chemist from Penang. As usual, Alex was spot-on. That icy control would not
flinch at some bad luck in the casino later, but it was Brad who was going
to lose, and with each loss Brad's composure would falter, and the other's
ego would swell. Brad squirmed and bit his lip at the prospect of milking
the situation in every possible way.

* * *

"Busy day ahead, Sir?" Callum wasn't expecting much in the way of an answer
from the rather intense looking character in the back of his cab.  "Er,
yes, many meetings", replied the man, glancing up from the lap-top with an
air of embarrassment. A Swiss banker perhaps, thought Callum, scowling in
his rear mirror as the car behind failed to notice his deceleration. Callum
just managed to choke the emerging obscenity but his gesticulations drew a
look of confusion from his passenger who twisted round in his seat.
Immediately he turned back again and muttered something, the meaning of
which was clear to Callum in spite of the language barrier.  "Excuse me, it
is very important that these men behind us do not follow me to my first
appointment. Can you help, please?" The man appeared annoyed and uncertain
but not frightened. Callum hesitated for a moment, then said, "Well, if you
don't mind walking a short distance, yes, I think I can. I'll stop at the
Savoy. I'll bring your bag, you limp a little, ask me to follow you to the
bar, then I'll show you another exit. They'll assume you're staying there
and wait for you to come out again. The route you'll take from there will
be along the embankment then first left. How about that? " The man looked
down at his open briefcase and then up again.  "Yes, thank you. I know the
way. You are very kind." He began hurriedly putting things back in his
briefcase, pausing to withdraw a banknote from his wallet.

Inside the hotel, Callum couldn't help being impressed by the way in which
his somber companion warmed to his role. He remembered the last occasion he
had been there, when he'd been asked to wait while a georgeous young guy
assembled a gaggle of women for a shopping expedition. He'd heard music
from the gardens beyond, which turned out to be an open-air event featuring
a childrens' opera group. Now, he guided the man to the exit leading to
those secluded gardens, which lie between the hotel and the main road that
runs alongside the Thames.  The man rather formally offered the red
note. Callum raised his eyebrows. "Best of luck with your meetings," he
said, after the man raised his hand slightly to indicate that the
transaction was over.

"And you've no idea what it was all about?" accused Matt, savouring the
Bordeaux for which Callum had unearthed the best crystal (an anonymous
present from an admirer several years back).  "No business of mine". Callum
played it down, enjoying Matt's look of consternation. He had quite enough
excitement, with his various consultations in all corners of the globe. Now
it was Callum's turn. He had Matt hooked and begging for details. For the
first time in recent weeks, Callum felt in complete control.

Episode 4

Alex Winter was lost in a new and awe inspiring scenario which added yet
another set of pathways to the already labyrinthine matrix of action and
response in his latest assessment of the future interactions of present and
prospective personnel. Along one route he saw the inevitable creation of a
new and powerful adversary but a fork in the road revealed the same man as
a valuable ally. The data gathered by Andreas (in unusually creative
fashion, thought Alex) had entirely vindicated him and drawn warm
appreciation from the others, both in the weekly board meeting and
afterwards in the Greenhouse. His aching muscles were due testament to
that. Now, however, the game had reached a stage which would test his
powers to their limits. There was still time to turn back from the hideous
complications, but Alex knew he couldn't bottle out unless the project was
threatened. The question of idealism had not been answered by the recent
input. He even considered venturing out into the field himself but of
course Brian was the man for the job. It was gratifying that Matthew Grant
had responded so well to the trust that had been placed in him, but then,
Alex had never doubted that he would.

				* * *

Friday night at the Realman's offers a spectacle not to be found in any
other pub in Richmond. As if to demonstrate that all inhibitions and social
barriers have been abandoned along with the monotony of the working week, a
most unlikely mixture of humanity gathers and an even more unlikely mixture
of interactions ensue. Doris was listening to an account of the
relativistic effects recorded in the Apollo missions of the sixties. He was
clearly enraptured, though not by the science lesson. The cherubic student
seemed oblivious of the question uppermost in the minds of the group
surrounding him, which could be reduced to "which of us are going to fuck
you, and when, and where?"

Callum's mental processes ran along similar lines but the object of his
attentions was a quietish fellow (in his late thirties, perhaps) whose gaze
wandered deliciously from the thick hair on Callum's wrists to the tuft
protruding from the neck of his white T-shirt and back to Callum's hungry
expression.  "But surely you must agree that people need government and
they need discipline", slurred Darren, who was apparently a financial
consultant.  "Yes of course, but I can't see - that abolishing our judicial
system - flawed though - it is - is going to rid us of our - social
evils. The problem's global -- and - until we find solutions to - worldwide
issues - we don't have to right to play God". Callum had forgotten exactly
how all this started and Darren was massaging his left thigh, so the debate
rather changed course.  "Anyway, I've got lots of - red wine - at my place
so why don't we - continue this discussion -- elsewhere?" asked Callum, the
last traces of his usual reserve vanishing rapidly.

* * *

Matthew Grant glanced again at the initial conditions of the Bernhadt
model. There seemed no arguing with the projections -- somewhere in
Southern Asia there would be starvation, the effects of which would dwarf
those of the Black Death. Elsewhere, notably in Australia, the Southern
United States and North Africa, heat deaths would soar. Until the
publication of Rees's groundbreaking work on the history of modeling
assumptions no-one had taken this perspective seriously, after all, they
were all bound to be imperfect notions of how nature really behaves. Now it
appeared that the variations in predicted climate change had, after an
early period of pessimism, been consistently over-optimistic.

More worrying still was that the analysis showed a deepening rift between
successive long-range forecasts and the data recorded ten years later.
Rees's work had been regarded by some as a weak attempt by a retired
historian to play the modelers at their own game, but Bernhadt's brilliant
modeling of the models cast doubt on the accepted wisdom of basing one's
prophecies on the usual parameters of average temperature and rainfall. His
version of the truth counted only suffering and death, and Matt had now to
add his own insights, based on more traditional investigations of high
latitude spring snowfall, so that Bernhadt's thesis could be tested. Then
of course there was the meeting with Carl at the University...