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Toy Story: Mister Spaceman

Chapter 7: Soul

"You're cutting it pretty fine, Mister Davis."

Andy frowned, as he clicked "File," then "Save As," then saved the file marked "Davis, A. – Assignment 3" into his USB folder. The second after that, walked to the front of the classroom, where Professor Redfern sat at her desk, her arms crossed.

"Finished," he said, putting the USB on the desk.

She frowned. "You know this was meant to be emailed, right?"

Andy remained silent.

"Or submitted on Moodle?"

Andy remained silent.

"And that since class ended five minutes ago, I could deduct points from your final assessment?"

Andy remained silent.

"Anything you want to say, Mister Davis?"

"That I…appreciate your consideration?"

Redfern snorted. "Now he talks."

Andy went back to being silent. In some ways, university was little different from school – the teachers said stuff, you listened to the teachers, if you didn't do what the teachers said, you could expect your grade to go the same way as the Californian condor – still there, but so small it spelt disaster for your future prospects as a student or species.

On the other hand, there was still a level of informality that didn't exist in primary or secondary education.. Relationships less about teacher and student, and more about teacher and potential equal. At least if you had the smarts or the drive, that was. Luxo University wasn't in the same league as Yale or Harvard, but it had its alumni, and it was damn well going to make the most of them.

Still, that was them, not him. He'd spent the last three months redoing his animation work, in addition to every other assignment he had in his other units, all as part of a course that offered him the slight chance of a career, in which case he could look forward to paying off his loans for the next decade. So, it being Friday, he got up and headed for the lecture hall's exit. Come whatever may, the uni week was over, and he had places to go and people to meet.

"Mister Davis?"

Alas, he wasn't free yet. He turned around and looked at Professor Redfern. With her pink hair and trio of nose rings, she sometimes reminded him of a bull in a China shop.

"Is everything alright with you?"

Right now, however, she didn't appear to have a beef with him.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"Well, over the past three months, you've simultaneously been quieter than usual, yet have also been more confident when you have spoken. It's like you're being pulled in one direction, and want to go in that direction, but are stopping yourself." She leant forward. "Or, more accurately, you've changed, and I don't know if it's for the better."

"I'm fine," he murmured.

Redfern sighed. "Don't bullshit me, Davis."

"Ma'am, there's over forty students in this unit, I think you have more to worry about than I do."

"I'll decide who to worry about, thank you."

Andy stared at her. Wondered if he was wrong. That, in point of fact, Redfern did have a beef with him. And that if he didn't answer, the situation would descend into udder chaos.

"There's a…girl," he said.

Hopefully, the grass would be greener on the other pasture.

"Oh?" asked Redfern, smirking.

Seeing the glint in her eye, Andy could tell that she wanted to milk this for all it was worth.

"And this girl," she said. "Is this a girl-girl, or a girl?"

"Excuse me?"

"Unless you swing the same way as me, Davis, I'm assuming that this girl is one that you want to do a fair bit of swinging with yourself?"

"Um…"

"Oh for goodness sake." Redfern leant back in her chair, giving him a look of abject despair. "It's a good thing you didn't take a social studies degree, because you'd have flunked out by now."

Andy wondered if he should tell her about Hannah's psychology course.

"So what's the problem then?" His lecturer asked. "Boy meets girl, boy likes girl, boy stays in my class for three months without…well, which base are you up to, Davis?"

"Aren't you supposed to be my animation teacher? Not my psychologist?"

Redfern shrugged.

"Then if it's all the same to you, I'd rather deal with this myself."

Redfern began typing on her laptop. "Suit yourself."

Yeah. I will. He got up, and headed for the lecture hall's exit. Getting halfway…actually a third…alright, a quarter… of the way, before stopping, turning, and saying, "can I have some advice?"

"Lost your chance, Davis."

Andy pressed on. "This girl. I've sort of known her since we were kids."

Redfern looked up. "Sort of?"

"Yeah, neighbours, didn't talk much, I moved, she stayed put, long story. Point is, we've talked, and we've laughed, and I…"

"Do you like her, Davis?"

"Um…" He thought of that night last month. On his birthday. Or what was technically the day after his birthday, when Hannah had called him in some insane hour, and said that she loved him. An unorthodox conversation at an unorthodox hour, but one that had taken a weight off his shoulders, even if she hadn't realized it at the time. But-

"Davis?"

"I do," he said, with a confidence that surprised himself. "I…think I do. Quite a bit, actually."

Redfern smirked.

"But I can't help but wonder if she likes me, or if she just wants to go back to that childhood. Because…" He took a breath. "Because I know that she didn't have the best one in the world."

"And did you?"

The question caught him off-guard, and for a moment, he wanted to lie. Because in years of playing out stories as a kid, of writing stories as a teenager, and now, animating stories as an adult, there were a few rules of storytelling to keep in mind. One, that conflict was the essence of drama. Two, in the words of Aldous Huxley, comfort had nothing compared against a good fight against oppression.

"Well?" Redfern asked.

And third, in the words of Mark Twain, not to lie.

"Yes I did."

Because that way you didn't have to remember anything.

"I see…" Redfern leant back in her chair. Clicking a pen, like she was some amateur shrink. "So you had a good childhood, and your friend didn't have a good childhood, and now you're back together, and you're…guilty, perhaps?"

Andy, after a moment, murmured, "wouldn't you be?"

"No." As if seeing the look of surprise on Andy's face, Redfern continued. "Guilt doesn't help anyone. Won't help her, and it won't help you."

"But I…kind of planned on helping her."

"Excuse me?"

"Lightyear's out. He was big for me as a kid, so I thought, hey, relive my childhood, let my friend have a bit of hers, and hey, movie looks pretty fun on its own."

"It does," Redfern acknowledged. "I plan on seeing it myself."

"You do?"

"Miss out on Buzz Lightyear, after spending every year teaching little snot-nosed brats how to do cartoons?" She chuckled. "Of course I'm going to see it. Course I'd rather have Princess Mira in it, but beggars can't be choosers."

Andy smirked. "You were a fan of The Adventures of Buzz Lightyear?"

"I was. Shame it's been forgotten nowadays. But you can't have everything in life."

"I suppose so. Especially with student loans."

A silence lingered between the two of them. Part of Andy wanted to leave then and there. To escape into the sunlight, bathe in it, laugh and frolic, and listen to the birds. But on the other…well, Professor Redfern had listened to him so far. What was one more question?

"Can I ask you something?" he asked.

She remained silent.

"Do you…ever wonder if it's worth it?" he asked. "Teaching people animation?"

"It doesn't pay as well as some other courses, if that's what you mean."

"No. I mean, it's just…" He bit his lip, before continuing. "Truth is, I don't know what's ahead for me. Unstable jobs market, student loans…I've spent three years at Luxo, I'll probably graduate next year, and I have to tell myself it was worth it. All those stories, all those doodles…"

"Bit late to have second thoughts, Davis."

"But is it worth it?" he asked. "Because on one hand, the girl I'm seeing? She's doing psychology. She gets to help people. And on the other, I've spent the last three years rooming with a pair of guys who…well, they're into geek stuff, y'know? Really into it. So much into it that they can spend hundreds of dollars on memorabilia and…sometimes I wonder if I'm too much like them?"

Redfern didn't say anything.

"Or was like them," he added, remembering his youth.

Redfern was still quiet.

"Or, I get a job, and I tell stories about cartoon characters from now till Judgement Day, all while the real world is…"

"Crap?" Redfern asked.

"Not the word I'd use, but-"

"But you should use it," Redfern said. "There's a lot of crap in the world. You know it, I know it, the people in the crap know it, and the people above the crap know it as well. They just don't have to smell it as much."

"So why bother then?" Andy whispered. "Why do stuff like…like this, when I could be doing something that matters?"

Redfern gave him a look. She slowly rose to her feet. If she was like a bull, she looked ready to charge. If she did, he could probably make it to the door in time, but when it came to angry bovines, he preferred not to take his chances. There was too much at stake.

"Tell me," Redfern said. "Is that how you feel? You've wasted your time?"

"No, ma'am."

"But you're afraid of it, right? You get to work on cartoons, while other people save the world?"

Andy, after a moment of thought, murmured, "the thought had occurred to me."

"Hmm."

"Not that there was anything wrong with this unit ma'am, but-"

"Here's how the world works, Davis. Some people cure cancer, other people play in the NFL. Some people put men on the moon, others do cartoons about those space-men. Some people excavate the ancient past, other people make up entire worlds."

"And in your view, all things are equal?"

"No," Redfern said. "Not exactly."

Andy just stood there. Listening. Keeping his head above water, as his heart turned to stone.

"Truth is, we all do the things we do because we're good at them, or we love them, or if we're lucky, both," Redfern said. "And you're good at this, Davis – for all I know you've flunked this last assignment, but you're good at what you do. You've got a knack for stories, and a knack for putting them to screen."

Andy tried to stop himself from smiling. He didn't want to look like an idiot, after all.

"So if you want my advice, do the things you do," she said. "Because it's a big world out there, and for all the crap that's in it, it doesn't have the time to judge every one of us. But the people in that world? You make their lives a little better, in any way…and that's worth it. Even if it's just for yourself."

Despite Andy's efforts, the smile came. "Thank you, ma'am."

"You're welcome." Redfern nodded at the exit. "Now piss off."

Andy promptly obliged. But as his hand reached for the door, Redfern spoke up again.

"Oh, and Davis?"

He stopped, and looked back at her.

"Have you shown your girlfriend what you've been working on?"

"No," he answered truthfully.

"Might want to," she said. "Best things in life are best shared."

"Ma'am, you don't know if the animation is one of those things."

"Maybe," Redfern murmured. "But does she?"

Andy just stood there. Thinking.

Still deep in thought, as he finally exited into the sun outside. Blinking, as he thought of what was on one of the campus's buildings.

Veritas ab illuminatione.

Or maybe it was the other way round. Maybe he was overthinking things. Or, as he looked at his watch, maybe he was running late. And yet…

Ex illuminatione, verum.

The sun continued to shine. The birds continued to sing.

And his mind continued to drift.