The Human Bullet. Joaquin De Torres

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СКАЧАТЬ the bucket of water that was already inky black. She had been mopping, dusting, scraping and scrubbing the walls and floors of the old house for three days, and this was just on the first floor!

      The cleaning of the 100-year-old, two-story wood and brick house still had at least a week before it would be truly livable. There was still the second floor to do with all its bedrooms and bathrooms; the attic and the massive basement below ground were full of cobwebs, mildew and dust; and the smell of age, rot and degradation had to be ventilated.

      But despite its size, enough for a family of six, she would be the only person in the house. This house represented a new beginning, a new cornerstone at a time when the pillars of her career had all but crumbled beneath her feet. Irena looked around the large empty interior of the first floor and tried to imagine what could happen in this ancient house, what she hoped to accomplish.

      With every hour she spent cleaning it, she was cleaning the stains of her old life. A life of frustration and anxiety as a professor of mathematics at Zagreb University where the school’s Dean of Mathematics and Engineering constantly criticized her.

      Whether it was her futuristic physics theories, or her interest in alternate forms of energy generation, or her experiments in electrical and engineering dynamics, the head master always had something negative to say about it.

      He couldn’t understand how such a young woman who was hired to teach the institution’s traditional mathematics curricula, was so easily distracted by theoretical concepts that humanity could never possibly use nor understand. And she couldn’t understand why her boss wouldn’t want her to explore deeper into subjects that students found fascinating in class.

      To be fair, he had a point: her personal research in these interests often kept her from fulfilling her basic school obligations which generated much negative attention from some students, parents and colleagues. She and the Dean argued often about student dissertations, student needs, the outdated source materials, the grading criteria, and his own lack of knowledge.

      The problem was: She was a genius in many ways, far over qualified for her job and his, and he knew it. He continually tried to suppress her superior talent, keep her in check, humble her. But then came the day when, in front of all her colleagues and his peers, she mercilessly let him have it.

      “What kind of example are you setting at this university? It’s too generic, it’s too mainstream! You’re preparing these students to be average achievers, limiting their potential and shutting down their intellectual curiosity just as you tried to shut down mine!” She pointed her finger at him accusingly.

      “You don’t know a fifth of what I know about mathematics, physics and engineering! How dare you lecture me on my work! You can’t even comprehend it!” She stormed out of the room leaving everyone inside silent and shocked. She was fired the next day.

      Three weeks later, she interviewed for an advanced mechanical engineering professorship position at the Nikola Tesla City College in Gospić, her own birth town of less than 6,500 inhabitants.

      A small municipality in a karst field in the Lika valley skirted by the mighty Velebit mountain range, Gospić was just 10 minutes from the frontdoor of the village of Smiljan – Nikola Tesla's birthplace and childhood home. His home had since become a public museum, tourist attraction, and the centerpiece of national pride of Croatia's most famous son.

      She was accepted two days later for the job and would have the whole summer to prepare for fall semester. Just the fact that she was a full 123 miles from Zagreb brought her both satisfaction and closure. Her new life would be built here; her future – wherever it led, would begin here.

      Zagreb, the capital and international nerve center of Croatia with over 1.3 million people was, in every conceivable way, divergent from Raduč - population 20 - a forgotten village in a barren field, abandoned over the decades and left to the mercy of the elements. Raduč didn’t even qualify as a ghost town because there was no town. Humble plots of farm land dotted the area, but were separated by large distances in between.

      The few inhabitants, farmers who sold their goods in Gospič some 20-minutes-drive away, didn’t see each other or socialize as they lived at least a kilometer apart. In fact, the only contact between them happened sparingly or accidentally while driving along the worn-down roads leading towards Gospić.

      She moved back into the old house where she grew up, but immediately wanted a weekend house to be away from people, to think, to relax, and to write.

      The privacy and solitude of Raduč was exactly what Irena was looking for and needed. She wanted a place where she could work on her theories, dissertations and even a book, in absolute peace and tranquility.

      She bought the house cheap, just 40,000 euros, approximately $45,000. But this house was different. It had a special significance to her.

      She was told by the real estate office in Gospić that this particular dwelling was the actual birthplace and home of Nikola Tesla’s father, Milutin, who in the mid-1800s became a Serbian orthodox priest. His missionary travels compelled him to move his family to a house in Smiljan where there was a vibrant town economy. He would die in Gospić in 1879.

      With Nikola in New York, and the rest of the family married off and separated, Milutin’s home in Raduč was eventually recovered by the county and boarded up for more than 120 years. With no foreseeable development projects planned, the real estate office was eager to sell it and cut the price for Irena four times before she agreed to buy it. So, now with one house near her new job, and one to escape in pursuit of her own edifications, Irena began her new life.

      She took the full bucket of dirty water and dumped it in the front yard which was yet another ordeal ahead of her. Waist-high weeds, thickets and bushes made the large front, side and backyards unattractive miniature forests. It didn’t take her long to decide that she would call a professional yard clearing company from Gospić to take care of that mess.

      The day before, the utilities company sent their men to get the house powered, check the piping, heating vents and get fresh water to all available sources. She planned to get Wifi installed the following week for her online research.

      After dumping the bucket into the weeds, she stepped through the front door and surveyed all that she had already done and took a good look at the area.

      Going through the door, one saw a wide staircase that led up to the second floor. It was almost 12 feet wide and halved the entire first floor in two. To the left and to the right were living spaces.

      On the right side was the formal dining room, a kitchen set behind it and a washroom; on the left was a sitting or waiting room and a reading room. In the washroom, where she filled her bucket with water, was a double sink so large and deep that one could clean freshly hunted game.

      * * * * *

      The enormous staircase went straight up to the second-floor balcony which contained all the bedrooms and bathrooms. But the base of the staircase on either side were straight walls from the floor to the top. One would think that it could have made a great storage area beneath the stairs, but there was no door on either side.

      She was almost done with this floor. Without any furniture or carpeting, the entire floor of wood was starting to get some of its luster back. Just a few more days of polishing and it would look almost new, then she could head to IKEA and start furnishing it.

      The second floor, however, would have to wait until winter, as would the attic and the basement. This was only her weekend getaway house, after all, there was no rush.

      She СКАЧАТЬ