Are we starting newly or starting from where we stop? Let me take front seat anyway.

Morning Meal: Breakfast

[b]CHAPTER ONE

Trouble Begins

“I sent for you,” Professor Wilson said.

“Yes sir,” Henry replied, he had conjectured what the man would say next.

“You've got an idea why I sent for you?”

“No inkling,” he replied. He did not want to declare his guess for the fear that it could be wrong.

“Hmm! You've checked it, isn't it?”

“Yes of course.”

“Tell me something 'bout it.”

“Well I'll say it's fine, all A's,” replied Henry but with a puckered face. It seemed as though he wasn’t pleased with the scene. The man was not looking at his face, so he was not observing anything.

“Boy, you've got to work tirelessly now to maintain such great result. You've got three semesters to keep your head on the dean's list—or what d'you think?”

“I'm alright,” replied the boy.

“How would you maintenance your good performance?”
Henry lingered in his sudden muteness. He wasn't ready to say something.

“Speak to me dudes!” cried the irked man. Henry was not able to keep mute any longer, so he spoke:

“Well…I'll just keep doing it exactly as I've been doin' it— that's all.” The boy spoke tersely as usual with him anytime he wasn’t enjoying a conversation.

“How have you been doing it?”

“Studying of course!” Henry replied, “Just like anyone else.

“How many times before an exam do you study a particular subject?”
Henry became cold. He didn't like sharing the secret because of its unfavourable consequences in the past. Nobody had ever believed it.

“Talk to me,” the man persuaded. Henry wouldn't speak. He just bowed his head and stared vacantly at the floor as if expecting the response to germinate from it.

“I'm a busy man—got no time to waste, boy!” cried the gutted man, having lost patience.
Henry spoke and coughed along, the same time. The sound of his cough swallowed his speech and made it inaudible.

“I can't hear you,” said the dean. “Repeat, please.”

“Just once and I don't repeat,” Henry replied.

The dean was shocked.

“Hey, you said such to me, your dean? Telling me you can't repeat your speech? Are you out of your mind?” the man vociferated.

“You've misconstrued me sir. I only said that I studied each course once and never have to go back to them again for revision or whatever,” he explained. The dean burst into a loud laughter; Henry's reply had sounded incredible to him. He spoke amidst the laughter, “What do you take me for—a fool?” he paused and resumed later, “Alright, and how many days do you spend on a subject— to cover it up?”

“Days? I don't spend days—only few minutes and that's all with such course for the semester,” he replied, looking embarrassingly at his dean as he thought of the repercussion of his factual statement. The man's mouth was wide agape. He soon found his voice.

“So… what you're trying to say is that you study each subject once, within an hour, and the whole thing gets stuck to your brain just like that, even till the examination days?” Henry nodded in affirmation and the dean continued, “Got a magnet in there?” The dean pointed to Henry's forehead in a highly puzzled manner. Silence followed! The boy was feeling uneasy; therefore he was willing to hasten up the conversation:

“You won't believe it, just as no one had. Sir, can I go now?” Henry asked as he rose up.

“You ain't walking outta here except you tell me the truth, so please have your seat,” the man said ushering Henry back to the rocking chair he was once sitting on. The boy sank into it again.

“Now listen young man, you needn't tell lies to someone like me—” he paused abruptly to swallow his spittle. “Long years' experiences can tell if you are lying or not. I've been to many universities around the globe, both as student and as lecturer. I studied gynecology in Germany, Mathematics in Mauritius, History in India—even here in the US, California precisely, I studied Physics.” He sighed and resumed few seconds later.

“I read six courses all through it, came out with distinctions in all, but yet not seen anyone with a magnetic brain. Now stop the joke and tell me something factual for God's sake,” he shouted and banged the table concurrently in annoyance. Henry was gripped with nervousness. He kept mute in apprehension. “What am I going to say?” he thought.

“Ain't you going to say something?”

“I've said it already sir.”

“Stop kidding dude, you're lying to me?”

“It's the truth sir.”

“You lie,” whispered the man in a voice almost out of earshot.

“It's the truth sir.”

“I said you lie,” the man bawled.

“I'm not sir. I—” he was interrupted. “Then I lie!” the dean voiced out.

“You don't,” said Henry immediately.

“Then I'm right I said you lie!” shouted the dean.

“No sir,” he maintained.

“If I'm not lying and you're not lying too, then who is?”
Henry knew what the man was trying to drive at. He was speechless.

“Gerrout now dude! Can't bear liars—I hate them.”

“So do I,” Henry professed apprehensively.

“You do?”
Henry replied quickly, “Yes I do.”

“You mean you do?” the professor pestered him.

“Of course yes!”

“Then you should hate yourself—you can leave now,” he said with fury, eyes red in anger, just like those of a sot who had not recovered yet
from inebriation. It was a usual thing for the man to lose his temper. Even over trivial issues, he would go about shouting very loud. But the dean was not the kind of person one would think he was, in term of his oft choleric display. He was a cool-headed fellow, though sometimes his temper, if tampered with, could go out of hand.
The Professor had lost his housewife Lily to divorce and was now left with a mistress called Rose. It happened just two weeks back. A professor of his caliber needn't worry his head over a lady, he had once thought. “I've got tons of them asking me out.”
The man was forty-four but he looked much older than his age. When asked why, he explained that his days on earth had been occupied with serious studies, which had made him appear older than his age.

“You should rather hate yourself,” he concluded. “Now leave!”
Henry lingered, trying to make a protest:

“I—I'm telling…”
The dean cut him short:

“I'm a Professor of physics; do you know what that means?” he boasted.

“Yes I think I know,” Henry replied.

“What's it?” the dean asked, looking at his student's eyes.

“Your brain is as developed as that of Albert Einstein,” Henry said.

“Far more developed,” added the dean, “Einstein lived in the past but I live in the present when technology is at its peak. I'm far more civilized—got more formulae than him because millions of theories emerged even after his existence and I've got them all in here,” he prided himself on, clicking his skull, unaware of the flashes of light probably having their source from something somewhere outside the office. Henry noticed the flickers but did not afford his brain enough time to guess what they were, though it had registered into his sub consciousness.

“Young dude, inside here dwell six disciplines, hot and intact,” the dean spoke on, still clicking his skull with the index finger of his right hand, but in a more intense manner now, “You try discussing gynecology I'm with you, or you want to tell histories, I'll sure beat you to it. Astronomy, Psychology, all's intact here Henry,” he bragged incessantly, pacing about in the office. On resuming he said, “D'you know my point? All through these acquisitions, I studied very hard, spending time…and time…and time…”

“Time times time, isn't it?” intruded Henry tersely, trying to hasten him up with the wit he had just employed. The man got the message; Henry had just summarized his monotonous words mathematically. He was always at his best at that—sometimes with the aid of mnemonic.
Henry was staring at the man now, realizing what he had just done. The dean was not angry at all.

“Hmm! This boy, you're good at manipulating words,” said the dean. He had been impressed by Henry's sound ability. “Just keep it up—uh!”
Henry was trying each moment to avoid eye contacts with the dean. When he could not, he lowered his head slightly and stared blankly at the floor, eyes absentminded but ears at alert, expecting to hear the man speak again.

“Young chap—I got everything I got by hardwork. Are you trying to say that one can achieve success without thorough studies? It's a blatant lie!”

“Well,” spoke Henry, “It depends on your personal definition of working hard; I define mine as doing what you know best to give you success.” Henry smiled. He thought the man wouldn’t be able to beat that. He was shocked when the professor looked critically at him and laughed. He said, “Then it means those who cheat in exams are hardworking, aren't they?”

“I—I…” Henry stammered. He could not back up his argument. He gave up eventually.

“Speak let me hear,” the man laughed quizzically at him.

[/b]

I just cönsumed d føod all alöne.

continuation...

[b]“I've got nothing to say,” he confessed, yet in his mind he had a lot of confusions stumbling upon one another. They were the feelings of anger, wrath, indignation and bitterness.

“It means your definition is wrong, Henry. You can leave now.” The dean gnawed his fingernails. He was waiting patiently for Henry's departure but it never went that way.

“I said leave, since you insist on lying and I hate liars.”

“So do I,” said Henry with no trace of humor in his tone, “Sir why not put me to test and see what I'm talking 'bout?” The man expressed elation over his statement. He felt that he should give it a trial immediately.

“Uh—test you isn't it? Oops! That sounds sensible to me!” he exclaimed, directing his swivel chair swiftly toward the shelf. He rose up immediately from it, scrambling his hands through the top of the shelf in search of something. In a short moment, he had gotten a handful of books.

“Henry, I'm going to test you as you've said. Here are books, different in sizes, shapes and contents—styles—of different disciplines and publishers; Gynecology, Mathematics, Psychology—”

“Library of literatures,” Henry interrupted.
You are at it again Henry, trying to summarize it up, huh,” said the dean as he kept on with the selection. “Yes I found it!” he howled almost immediately. Presenting a book to the boy, he said, “Have it.” He made a loud sigh when Henry received it.

“It took me six good days to master what's in it,” confessed the dean in a genuine manner. “So—you want to prove to me that you can study it once and master all that's in it, innit?” asked the man once more, to be sure of what he thought he had earlier heard from the boy.

“Yeah,” replied Henry, already perusing the front page.

“Just read only the first chapter—” instructed the dean, “for time factor,” he added. Henry read silently to his own hearing alone. In five minutes he was through with the wordy chapter, and he raised his head to indicate that he was done with it.

“So quick!” the man yelled, “Close it.” Henry obeyed, handing it over to him after he had closed it.

“It's going to be great shock for me—” he drew in breath, “if you're able to answer these questions I'm 'bout asking you from it correctly.” He began to ask him various questions, which Henry was warding off in a succinct manner. Being enormously startled by Henry's level of adroitness, the man screamed:

“How come? I'm quite sure you've never in your life studied gynecology—how come you could supply the answers as precise as they are in the book?”

“That's what I'm talking about,” whispered Henry in a shy manner, apprehensively waiting to hear him speak. The man lowered his gaze again to fix it at the book, then he persisted in asking the questions until he was satisfied (when Henry got one of them wrong) that he had achieved his aims.

“Henry d'you know what?”

“What?” he asked, slightly nervous.

“You're a genius!” commented the man, looking rapturously at him—amazed and horrified.
Henry said, “Genius? Even after getting a question wrong?”

“Hey, don't be fooled young man. The one you missed was not related to gynecology at all—not in the book, let alone the chapter you've just read,” divulged the man, chuckling silently. Henry smiled and said ‘No wonder’ in his mind.

The dean had asked Henry the question he got wrong so as to prevent him from getting all. It was his usual practice to do such a thing whenever he was to put questions forward. No one had ever scored a hundred percent in his courses, because of the 'out-of-syllabus' questions he was wont to including in them.

“You belong to the genus of geniuses!” the dean exclaimed.
Henry replied, “Sir, you don't mean it!”

“I'm serious! I am called Wilson G for a specific reason—can you guess what that G signifies?”

“Don't know,” Henry replied. He did not want to be roped in a fresh discussion. He was yearning to get out of his office, at least to feel the natural ambience outside there once again. The man persuaded Henry to say something but he made it clear that he was not good at guessing.

“C'mon, try a guess.”
Henry nodded in disapproval.

“Okay, just say whatever you like.”

“Goat—it stands for goat,” said Henry.

“Keep shut!” cried the dean. “What d'you take me for? I ain’t Goat!”

“I'm sorry, that's what I like. You asked me to say whatever I like.”

“I mean sensible thing!”

“I like goat, that's why,” Henry said politely.

“You like goat?” the dean was puzzled.

“Yes sir. Why do you ask?”

The man kept silent, looking at Henry as if he was a weirdo.

“Then you must be stubborn—” deduced the man and coughed, “like a goat.”

“Maybe—If you say so.”
The dean rose to his feet and said, “Henry I've got a lot of seminars to deliver within two weeks, on Physics, Gynecology, Astronomy—I've got to get prepared for them all.” He faced Henry squarely and said, “That G I'm talking about stands for Genius—you know what?”

“No sir,” said Henry, slightly waving his hands to show that he did not know 'what was what'.

“I'm transferring that G to you right away because you're genuinely a genius.” The man was serious about it. Henry took his words for flattery.

“You don’t mean it, I know,” said Henry.

“Why should I flatter you Henry? Hear me, I can see in you the mark of a genius—as from now you ain’t Henry White anymore, but Henry G— accepted?”

“Provided that G of yours stands for goat,” Henry replied while the man was still speaking. Now it dawned on the man that he was only dealing with an obstinate fellow.

“Don't make fun of the whole thing,” the dean said exasperatedly.
Factually, Henry was not trying to be funny; he had developed predilections for goats since the time he had read the history of Alexander the Great. While reading in those days, he came to know the insignia of Alexander’s power—Goat horn! Thus Henry’s love for goats was developed.
Finally, the professor cleared his phlegmy throat as he was set to say something.

“Henry G—” he called him, “I’ve asked you to come here for a purpose—your result. You’re the best overall in your set, with a single B and the rest A’s so far…You know what?” said the man impatiently, not waiting for a response as he continued, “You’re not alone in this race. You’ve got a rival.” Henry’s countenance changed instantly to a resentful one.

“He’s in the Petroleum Engineering—currently, his CGPA tallies with yours.” Henry was not going to let anyone beat him to it, so he queried gravely, “Professor who’s he? I mean what’s his name?”

“Name?” asked the dean as if traumatized, “Don’t know,” the man lied. “I sent for him just two days ago—told him what I’m about to tell you now.”

"What’s that?” said Henry showing great concern momentarily.

“Well… It’s nothing,” the dean said and paused, not knowing exactly the best way to present it. “Just this—how will it be if a man like me and you can be so much endowed with knowledge to the extent of knowing what’s going to happen in the future?”

“Future?” said Henry in an impervious approach. “I think that’s no new thing. Doctors can predict the aftermath of some diseases and—” he paused to cough, “periods of childbirth. Meteorologists can tell the weather—psychologists—they read the mind…”

“Hold it!” cried the man uneasily. “Not talking about that here, something else. Henry, I mean the power of the universe, to monitor people and things without the satellite—controlling whosoever’s life you wish; lots more.” It sounded complex to the boy.

“I—I don’t seem to understand!” he exclaimed.

“Okay—take for instance someone’s going to gun you down, but you’ve seen that couple of hours ago, before the act was going to be perpetrated, are you still going to die?” said the dean, stressing his last phrase more than the rest in the complex sentence he had uttered, perhaps to serve as a mean to some ends.

“Not at all sir!” Henry replied at once, “I’ll rather prevent it—if I can.”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying,” the dean deduced, smiling affectionately, “A genius like you with this power I’m telling you about will definitely be invincible in all walks of life.”
Henry yawned—then he spoke:

“Sure?”

“Definitely! That guy isn’t going to be match f’you, because you’ll become an extraordinary genius…after getting the power.”

“Is he a genius too?” asked Henry in a very inquisitive attitude, in a way not usual with him.

“Yeah—,” he replied, then smiled as he added “but not a wise one” shaking his head in a manner that was suggesting that the chap he was talking about was not wise enough for him to have rejected his offer.

“But why?” Henry wanted to know.

“He’s never wanting this power I’ve just told you of. I told him about it, but the fool rebuffed sharply, telling me he wasn’t interested in getting any power.” Henry had deduced something from the man’s assertion just now. If he should reject the offer before him now, he was sure that the dean would talk ill of him to another too. However, Henry never made his fear conspicuous, rather he asked “Why?” and got a reply through the man’s body language—a shrug of the shoulder, meaning that he did not know why the said genius had rejected the offer. Silence followed but the dean turned it around so soon:

“Over to you Henry—” he said and sniffed, “d’you need this power? It’ll help you,” the man enticed, leaving Henry in a state of vacillation.

“Power,” recapitulated Henry in an almost inaudible voice, clicking the table with the longest finger on his right hand.
“Yeah power,” replied the dean, maintaining the tempo, “That guy isn’t going to be match for you.”
A long silence descended into the office as Henry fell into a serious reminiscence…

[/b]

Afternoon meal comes up around 1pm. Thanks. Please your comments are highly needed.

good morning Eunisam...I can see you viewing. Thank you for your advice the other day. God bless you.

eunisam: Are we starting newly or starting from where we stop? Let me take front seat anyway.

This is for readers who have not tasted everybody is a genius ever before...

Did you see my notifications on the other threads, EBIAG3? I have already implemented the subscription, monthly, etc, so go and subscribe to get updates on your email

Old friend just showing up...Akorlade, Mr Akor, where have u been all the while?

eunisam: I just cönsumed d føod all alöne.

Always share with your friends at all time

following thread. am back from theland of no return

following closely lyk d Shu Arab

akorlade: following thread. am back from theland of no return

Lol...but it's quite an age...wia did u go?

SammyHoe:

Lol...but it's quite an age...wia did u go?

naija wahala+ hustling

akorlade:
naija wahala+ hustling

that's it o. not only you anyway

I love this

Justeenaleo: I love this

Thanks for living it. Happy Sunday. Afternoon food shall be dedicated to you.

SammyHoe:

Thanks for living it. Happy Sunday. Afternoon food shall be dedicated to you.

Can't wait!

Justeenaleo:

Can't wait!

I'm back!!! Very ready to run the story.

REMINISCING, LOADING...

I love Henry's mischievous sense of humour. I'm soo following this.

Thanks SammyHoe Sammy G

Reminiscing is just a remembrance of the past... and that's what Henry had plunged into when the professor asked him to join the magic world...

Pls readers, make sure you tag somebody or share this thread for others to start with us. Thanks.

And pls pls and pls, always correct my bad grammars and typos...thank you so much. Food is on fire.

I've just sighted Rilwayne01 with my capturing camera. He's viewing this thread.

evening meal comes up around 7pm. Night meal comes up around 11pm
Pls share the fun by clciking share. Don't be selfish...you won't regret you're here.

Oga sammy I no dey undastand u again o

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Gud day oga Legend...this is EBIAG reloaded for those who haven't read it b4.

The continuation is now for sale. Check my other threads for further enquiry... Thanks.

Story continuation...

Kate had smashed bottles on Henry’s head twice as punitive measures for the pain he had inflicted on her then. Henry had bludgeoned her too, oftentimes, with one particular truncheon their father had always kept inside the storehouse. Mr. White had told them long time ago, the mystery behind the aforesaid truncheon. He had said that he seized the heavy stick from a police officer who had harassed them (himself and two others) unjustly many years ago, but his children would not believe such a lose talk, on the ground that their father wouldn’t have had the mind to do that. Mr. White had to jettison the truncheon secretly one day, fearing that his kids were going to kill each other with it someday, as long as it remained in there.
On getting to the University as a freshman, Henry at first had the problem of relating with the opposite sex, probably because of his vendetta for his blood sister who had been with him since childhood, but he never regarded such aberration as a problem at all. He took all females as his sister, thus the hatred for them.
Henry’s orientation experienced a revolutionary trend the first time he did set his eyes on Cynthia, during her first year (Henry was in his second year then). There and then, Henry had felt he was going to choose her in place of a million dollar if there was to be any cause to make a choice between the two. He had valued her invaluable and priceless.
Henry had felt, oftentimes, that he was going to strangle any male who might want to be with her. Though mindful of the fact that such a one could be Ted, yet Henry was not going to soft-pedal his vow made earlier in time. But Ted wasn’t thinking about her, not even any girl, but sport only. He was the skipper of the volleyball team, playing the striking role.
Ted was not good at all in basketball—a novice in soccer too. He had tried at different sports unsuccessfully until finally discovering his talent. It seemed Ted discovered it too late, because his leg had once been broken in the football game while trying a rough tackle at a veteran master dribbler. His teeth, two incisors, one each from the upper and lower jaw, were broken too while dabbling in the hockey game. The metamorphism in his teeth then had resulted accidentally from a blow of the hooked stick owned by an opponent. However, Ted had had those broken teeth artificially shaped up again.
Henry was good in divers sports, but had never participated in any since entering the university, so no one knew he could do them. He had always been engaging himself in the reading of books, especially storybooks. He had read most of Chase’s novels and had begun to write his own too, about himself and his sister Kate.
In lieu of sporting activities, Henry was academically inclined—always interested in winning competitions; like quizzes, debates, spelling bees—having won all these at one time or the other early in his lifetime.
Kate was the exact opposite of Henry in virtually everything—gender, skills, abilities, attributes—lots more. She had always managed to score C’s in her results, frolicking frantically whenever she had such ‘Ceeish’ results. She was not athletic too—unlike Henry. In the high school, Henry represented his house in the relay race competition. Kate was envious, so she asked if she could do the same. Her housemaster doubted her, but eventually agreed to put her to test. She was to contend with some others in the same house.
Everyone made fun of her, having known that she was a lazy bone when it comes to athletics, but she summoned courage. That fateful day, the gun was fired and everyone ran with full speed. It was a 200m race. Kate was far behind. All of a sudden, she ran so fast—like a cheetah, overtaking everyone in the race. She won eventually, with a wide gap between the runner-up and herself.
It was amazing to everyone watching how she had managed to win the race, but Henry understood everything. Kate had seen a bulldog behind her, which had maneuvered its way unto the track. Since she was allergic to bulldog, she had to run as fast as her legs could afford to avoid it, so she did and won the race.
Henry felt bad about this. He told her housemaster his observation, but the man paid no attention to him, having known Henry as Kate’s antagonist. The man, following the suggestion and resolution of Kate, never let her have any further practice, so that she would not sustain injury before the main competition.
Kate was in the White house, while Henry was in Black. Initially, the two had incidentally been put in the same house (White), but Henry begged for a change of house—hence the Black House.
At the preliminary stage of the competition, Kate contended with many other athletes from different houses. It was a relay race. Having been regarded by all as the best of the racers in her house, she was made the anchor. During the last lap of the race, Kate got the baton a long time before any of her opponents did, but kept a slow pace and was soon overhauled in a short moment by all her contenders. That hectic day, she made a fool of herself before everyone. To make things worst, Kate fell flat on her face to the floor, while already maintaining her last position behind the ‘runner-up’ from the back.
Henry’s house swept the board in that competition, winning most of the gold medals. The Black House, also represented the school in the inter-school competition and won the trophy, with Henry regarded as the most colorful participant, having single-handedly won four gold medals in the various sports he had participated in.

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