A Brief Interlude
Vienna, Austria
A.D. 1906
The Professor was a well-respected man, and everything from his polished shoes to his balding crown reflected his high position in Viennese society. This late in December, the temperature often dipped below the freezing point, so the Professor carried a cane with him, a third foot for an extra grip on the slippery streets.
Today's walk brought the Professor to the Stadtpark, an expanse of well-trimmed lawn studded with statues and crisscrossed by the river Wien. He wanted to find someplace quiet, someplace beautiful, to escape from the rituals of life and simply sit and think. His search brought him to the riverbank, and he walked parallel to the waves until he reached a sufficiently isolated spot. The Professor then impaled his cane in the frosty soil, spread his blanket on the ground, and sat, wrapping the loose corners of the fabric over his suit to keep him warm.
There, he watched his breath freeze in the air and followed twigs and debris as the river carried them out of sight.
It wasn't until sundown that the Professor rose from his stupor. He didn't quite know why he jerked awake, only that he'd been staring at a distant carriage one moment, and standing, cane outstretched, the next. In the carriage's place was a man, blond-haired and sharp-nosed. He wore a new coat, but he wore a top hat styled nearly forty years out of date, a strange incongruity for a man no more than thirty himself.
But, strangest of all, the man was staring right at the Professor.
The Professor cleared his throat and lowered his cane, shrugging off his inexplicably odd behavior, and promptly resumed his sitting position. But the man began walking towards the Professor, which of course made the Professor nervous; the Viennese night presented an open invitation for all sorts of unsavory characters. Perhaps this whole blanket-sitting thing had been a terrible mistake. He should have stayed inside, where it was warm and safe—
And then the man was standing right before the Professor, looking right in his eyes.
"Sorry about that," said the man, in flawless German.
"About what?" asked the Professor.
"Didn't you see—oh, never mind," the man shrugged. "Um, mind if I sit next to you?"
The Professor minded very much, but he didn't say so. So the man sat down.
"Everyone calls me Harry," said the man. "It's short for Ahasuerus, but that's not my real name either."
"What is it, then?" asked the Professor.
Harry gave a tiny smile. "Well, that's just the thing. I was hoping you'd help me find out."
"How?"
"Something's gone wrong with my mind. I think you could help with that."
The Professor's curiosity got the better of his rationality, and he agreed. "Perhaps I could. I have a private practice, and I suppose you could come in for a half-hour session tomorrow."
"It'll take a lot longer than half an hour, I think," said Harry. "All the same, thirty minutes is better than nothing. Until tomorrow, then! It was nice to meet you, Doctor Freud."
Then he was gone.
Author's Note: Of course there's more coming, but I figured that you've waited long enough, so this is a bit of a teaser for what I'm working on now. Thanks for reading, and for not lynching me when I didn't update for a year. But, hey, I'm back now, and it's summer, so I'll have some more time to continue Rory's adventures! Allons-y!