A volcanic life

999 words.

         Mr. Jones sat up, rubbing his eyes. He glanced up, vaguely noting that the clock seemed to have missed out an hour, maybe more. He got off his stool, and wandered over to the other side of the room, where the coffee machine stood against the wall. After his third week here at the laboratory, he had managed to devise a way wherein he could get his coffee without having to pay for it. He didn’t consider this to be stealing; after all, it was he who refilled the machine with coffee he had bought.
         He returned to his workbench, walking carefully so as not to spill his drink. He was the oldest of the group of geologists working at this science centre, and the others either looked up to him in awe, or considered him somewhat batty. Mr. Jones, of course, was not concerned with opinions others took of him, but merely concentrated his entire being on finding out more about those awesome giants that he almost thought of as his children: volcanoes. A certain specimen took up much of his time: the dormant volcano that stood about 5 miles from the town centre.
         Much of the published work about this huge, mountainous half-dome of rock had stemmed directly from his work. The walls were lined with photographs that either he, or one of his co-workers had taken. They ranged from aerial photos, to those taken from the rim of the crater, to close-ups of material surrounding the area. Increasingly, his colleagues would find him sitting; not dozing, but rather daydreaming about ‘his’ volcano. He was, surprisingly for his age, not inept at using computers. Indeed, he needed them for his models of what would happen in an eruption, and the effects on the town. The mayor had given him the power to tell him if he saw any evidence of an upcoming eruption, and would decide whether or not to act by evacuating the town.
         He left his workbench again; despite his need to continue his research, he was too tired to do so. He thought back to when he first came to this little town, 40 odd years before. He had sulked then, believing he had been sent to some outpost of civilization where there would be nothing of interest round about… but instead, had found this volcano, about which he had great difficulty finding information. His mind wandered off, and it was several hours later when he slowly became aware that someone was banging on the door. He got up, making his way stiffly across the room, and opened the door.
         It was one of his younger colleagues, James. “Where have you been?” he almost shouted. “You haven’t answered your phone, you weren’t at home, you…” he ticked off the list on his fingers. Mr. Jones stolidly remained silent throughout James’ tirade. James paused to look at him, and sighed. “Look, I’ll just say one thing at a time.” Mr. Jones nodded. “Ok,” James continued, “did you, or did you not do an interview with the paper recently?”
         “I did indeed, James”.
         James glared at him. “Do you realize the panic you have caused? Do you realize that the mayor almost organized an evacuation on the spot, until I talked him out of it?”
         “I thought you said one thing at a time? And why would he do that?”
         James now looked perplexed. “Look, who wouldn’t get upset if you told them that very soon, the volcano would erupt, destroying their lives? In fact, you said, and I quote, ‘the volcano could erupt at any point’. Of course, we all know this is nonsense! What were you thinking?!”
         Mr. Jones sighed. “I’m afraid that I was talking in geological time, and merely omitted to mention the fact.”
         “What does that mean?” James scowled.
         “It means that the volcano could erupt any time in the next five or ten thousand years, which in geological terms, is the blink of an eye.”
         James cast his eyes up. “Oh, great, now you mention this!” At this point, he stormed out the room, so he didn’t hear what Mr. Jones had to say next, which went along the lines of “but that doesn’t mean that it couldn’t erupt, say next year”…
         Ten years later, the town was still a quiet town; Mr. Jones had been there for 50 years, and a party was held in the town hall in his honor. About halfway through the evening, a small tremor was felt, but it soon passed, and people dismissed it from their minds quickly. Mr. Jones, however, was not so quick to set aside this sign and quietly left the hall. No-one noticed him leaving; after all, most didn’t actually know who he was, and just enjoyed any excuse for a party. He walked quickly up to his laboratory, and dumped a few things into a rucksack: a camera, some protective clothes. He paused. He could be wrong, of course. There had been tremors in this town before, and each time he had got excited, each time disappointed. Still, he thought, I wouldn’t want to miss it…
         Mr. Jones strode up the mountain, and at one point almost fell, owing to another, stronger tremor. Excited, he speeded up. He wanted to be at the rim in time, in case it really was an eruption. He knew that whatever it was, it would be spectacular. He had waited all these years, quietly studying and collating evidence and would love the opportunity to see the object of his passion, finally erupt in all its glory. The tremors were getting stronger, more frequent. The eruption happened just as Mr. Jones approached the rim of the crater. It was spectacular, and he exulted in its splendor. He looked up long enough to see the fiery lump of rock come hurtling down towards him. He knew that lives would be lost, but now… he calmly accepted his death, as he had accepted everything in life.