"Giuseppe, you'll come home and visit, yes?" He was, after all, her oldest son, and the only one that had been born before she married Carlo. As such, she loved her little black-haired, blue-eyed son – the only memento she had of the man she'd come to America to marry – more than he would ever know.
"Mama, I promise I'll visit. And don't worry, you have Bianchi and Giotto to help with the restaurant." Yes, Giuseppe's father may have died before he was born, and Giuseppe may have grown up with Carlo Ienzo as the father-figure in his life (and Carlo's heart was large enough to accept Giuseppe as his own), but Giuseppe Ienzo was in every respect his father's son, right down to the quiet, intelligent demeanor and bibliophilic tendencies. As such, the boxes he had brought with him to college were full of books that she doubted he'd need – and he was definitely going to buy more, since he would need books for class and was likely to just buy more for his own pleasure.
Yes, Maria Ienzo knew her son, and she was so proud of him this day that she felt she would burst. In her family, he would be the first to attend university – to top it off, he was attending one of the most prestigious colleges in America.
There was a soft rap on the door and Carlo came in, carrying a folded purple sweatshirt. "I bought you a t-shirt, Giuseppe," he said with a smile, his olive skin creasing around his mouth, from years of smiling. Giuseppe thanked his step-father and took the purple sweatshirt from him, unfolding it to reveal the white letters.
Carlo turned to the blond boy that was Giuseppe's roommate. "You will take good care of my boy, yes?" he said in thickly accented English.
"Oh, no worries, Mr. Ienzo, me 'n Giuseppe'll get along fine. You can count on me." Giuseppe rolled his eyes – he loved his parents, but they were so… overbearing sometimes.
There were more hugs and kisses, and finally, around 4 in the afternoon, the mother and father left to go tend to their restaurant in nearby Schaumburg, Illinois.
Once they had closed the door behind them, Giuseppe sighed and crawled onto his bottom bunk, exasperated. He knew that Northwestern University was a prominent school, and he knew how proud his family was of him, but honestly, he was quite glad to be here instead of in his over-crowded home with over-involved parents and the overwhelming stress of school, clubs and restaurant work on the side. He knew one thing – he'd never be a waiter in an Italian restaurant again.
"So, uh, Giuseppe, was it?" his roommate asked, sticking his head over the railing of the upper bunk. "Your family sure was nice."
"Ugh, please don't call me that. You've got the pronunciation right, but so many people screw up my first name that it's just safer to go by Ienzo. Call me that."
"Oh, right, sure."
"What should I call you? Troy?"
"Ugh, no, please don't," said the roommate, Troy Myde. "Ever since High School Musical came out, everyone's teased me about my first name. It doesn't help that girls think I look like Zac Efron, or that I played basketball in high school." He grinned sheepishly. " I'd like to keep as many people as possible from making that connection – Myde's better."
"Myde it is, then." There was a long pause as the two new roommates adjusted to each other's presence. They had corresponded briefly online to determine who was bringing what – radios, TVs, refrigerators, that sort of things - but they hadn't really spoken much. It probably didn't help that Ienzo wasn't much for socialization at all. He preferred books to people.
"So, um, it's almost dinner time… wanna go meet some of the other guys in the hall, and then go get some food downstairs?"
Allison Hall was one of the biggest dorms on campus, and one of the primary freshman residences. There had been a massive line at the start of the day, as it was officially the day when all freshmen were supposed to move in. And there were many humanities and music majors in the building, as Allison Hall was located on the south end of campus – close to the humanities and music buildings. Myde himself was majoring in voice at the School of Music, while Ienzo planned on being an English Major.
The two new students ventured into the hall and were immediately accosted by a tall, lanky redhead hanging out of the doorway of a nearby room. "New students, hey. Welcome to Northwestern." He grinned, a little too widely, which made the two freshmen a little nervous. "Hey, Li, come meet our neighbors," he called back into the room, and a Chinese boy with longish hair stuck his head out of the room. "Hello," he said curtly, and vanished back into the room.
"Aw, don't mind him. He's a lot nicer once he doesn't think he's superior to you." The redhead stretched. "So, what're your names? I'm Alexander Irons, junior, Art History major. Call me Alex and I'll break you in half."
"Um, I'm Troy Myde, but Myde is fine, and this is Ienzo. School of Music and English." Ienzo nodded an affirmation, then turned to Alexander Irons.
"So if we can't call you Alex, what should we call you? Alexander? Irons?" he asked, leaning back and assessing this lanky junior before him.
"Most people call me Ale," he said, pronouncing it with two syllables. "There were two guys named Alex in Mock Trial when I was in high school – the other Alex was a jerk, so I dropped the X from my name so I wouldn't have to be associated with that douche."
"Ale?" said Myde slowly, trying it out. "Okay… hey, what about your roommate? Li, right?"
Li reappeared at the doorway. "Liu Ma Li – also a junior, biology major," he said before ghosting back into the room.
"Aw, don't mind Li-li, he's just a sourpuss." Ale leaned in conspiratorially. "If you ask me, I bet he's planning to take over the school."
"I am not," Li said, again appearing from the insides of their room. "And what did I say about calling me Li-li?"
"Right, right, I know. You're just a lot of fun to rile, you know that, right? Loosening up wouldn't kill you. Neither would a girlfriend – god only knows that you spend half your time talking to your plants like they're your significant other."
"I'll get a girlfriend when the right girl comes along – until then, Genevieve is much more interesting than they are. "
"Who's Genevieve?" asked Myde, shooting a puzzled look at Ienzo, who was again leaning backward and assessing the two upperclassmen before him. They certainly were interesting.
"Genevieve is his Venus Fly Trap. Hey, Li, how come you and Arlene haven't hooked up? You two are pretty tight already."
"Arlene has been in France all summer. In addition, we're just friends, Ale. Now butt out, you prying bastard."
"Well, I sure got told," Ale said, turning around and grinning at Myde and Ienzo. "You guys wanna get dinner? They should be open about now," he said, checking his watch. "Allison doesn't have the best food in the world – you'll wanna go to Hinman for that, but it's convenient, it's close, and it's food."
Of course, when they arrived downstairs and had retrieved food and found a table, Ienzo gave Ale's plate a befuddled look. "Where on earth does all that food go?" he asked, dumbfounded. The mountain of food on Ale's tray definitely belied his rail-thin frame. Ale, in kind, shrugged benignly and set into his meatloaf with gusto.
"You seem to know your way around pretty well, Ale," said Ienzo, taking a bite of salad.
"I make it my business to," said Ale in response. "Better to be informed than ignorant – no one can cause you trouble that way."
"Makes sense," said Myde, polishing off his sandwich and getting up get some milk.
"You strike me as an extremely manipulative person," Ienzo said bluntly.
"Ouch, cuts right to the quick, doesn't he?" Ale pouted in mock hurt. "What about you, Ienzo? Emo Italian kid or fellow manipulative bastard under that curtain of hair?"
"I refuse to be associated with those whiny, selfish brats," Ienzo retorted.
"Well, anyone with eyes could tell that you've been sizing up everyone that you come across – what, are you planning something?"
"No, simply becoming informed," he said with a wry grin. "After all, no one can cause me trouble that way."
Ale smiled into the forkful of pasta he was holding. "Sounds like we'll get along famously, then."
New Student Week went as all New Student Weeks go – freshman getting their IDs, learning the ropes, and registering for classes. So when the first day of class rolled around, Ienzo found himself in a rather interesting Freshman Seminar – "The Physics of Good and Evil."
It wasn't a class he would have taken willingly, had it not been a requirement for all students in the Weinburg College of Arts and Sciences. And out of the options for Freshman Seminars, it sounded most interesting. There were two professors, an older man with bright blond hair, and a man in his 40s with a long scar up one side of his face and long graying hair in a ponytail.
They couldn't have been any more different. "Good morning, class," said the first man in a cultured British accent. "I am Phineas Ansem, and I am a professor in the Philosophy department."
"And I'm Braig Kracowicz – it's probably easier on you if you call me Braig, seeing as my last name gives kids seizures trying to say correctly." Braig had a laid-back manner of speech, almost as if he was an aging surfer. "Anyway, I'm in the physics department. I mostly teach the upper-level stuff, though."
"Yes, and most of you have already met your peer adviser, Edwin." Professor Ansem continued.
"Dulor, Professor Ansem," corrected the senior economics major. He too was British, and many of the freshman students couldn't help but snicker at the similarities between Ansem and Dulor – for it was true, Dulor did strongly resemble a younger Ansem.
"Right, gotcha. Well, guess we should go over the roster, make sure no one's ditching, or in the wrong room," Braig said, picking up the attendance sheet. He ran through the class list, noting each of the 20 freshman, and writing their preferred means of address next to their names. And so, class commenced.
"We would like to begin with discussing your reasons for taking this class," said Ansem slowly, scanning the blank faces. "You there, Ienzo, was it?"
Ienzo pointed to himself unsurely, then cleared his throat. "I was curious to see how something tangible and measurable applied to something indefinite – after all, good and evil is different from person to person, varying on moral standards. Physics doesn't change, on the other hand. If I swing my fist in a left-ward direction, at a certain velocity and direction, it will definitely collide with James's face," he said, with a nod to the brown-haired person on his left. "However, the ethical ramifications of such an action will always vary, depending on reason, method and circumstances." Ienzo folded his hands quietly and sat back, to indicate that the ball was again in the professors' court.
"And that's exactly what we're gonna go after this quarter," said Braig, nodding with satisfaction at Ienzo's answer. "We're gonna investigate the applications of classic thought on good and evil, light and darkness, so on, and apply it to the physical world, to see if there is or isn't a basic moral standard."
"And that is exactly what we shall discuss on Thursday," said Ansem, noting the time. "Please purchase your course packets as indicated on the syllabus, and read the first article in them."
They all got up and exited, but as Ienzo made to leave the room, Braig held up his hand. "Wait a sec, Ienzo. Got a question for you."
Ienzo paused, waiting for him to continue. Ansem cleared his throat. "I have begun an experiment. Braig is working with me, as are various other faculty members and graduate students. Your response today indicates that you find the subject of definable moral standards intriguing. How would you like to be a research assistant for this experiment?"
"Me?" Ienzo said quietly, pointing at himself.
"No, the other obviously Italian kid named Ienzo," Braig said dryly. "What do you say? You'd be paid, of course. Maybe even get extra credit – though it'd be a little unfair to offer it to you but not the other kids."
"There is also a high risk involved," said Ansem with a note of concern.
"I'll do it," said Ienzo, firmly. "I'd be stupid to pass up an opportunity like that."
"Good!" said Braig, beaming. "We'll see you in Tech N-31 this afternoon at 3. It's in the basement. Think you can find it?"
"I'll be there, no need to worry about me," Ienzo said, with more confidence. "Should I bring anything?"
"Only your curiosity and intelligence," said Ansem. "We shall see you there"
