Nightfall

Within a minute of entering the grounds, Tyler could recognize the feel of a college. It had apparently been built on a large estate consisting of a big mansion with two gatehouses and a carriage house. He saw a sign in front of the mansion, “Machen Hall,” and Tyler surmised from the size of the building and the people traffic going in and out that it must house offices and student dormitories. Where there are dormitories, he thought, there had to be a cafeteria or at least a cafe. Tyler noticed he was being treated with a sort of benign neglect. In a way, it was contagious. There was a certain solitary tranquility here that Tyler found very relaxing. A little farther along his attention was drawn to a sign for “Montgomery Library.” Tyler paused as he looked at it, and thought again of Special Agent Wallenberg, and his big if. But Tyler was tired of thinking about all of that. Dusk had settled and it was a quiet, peaceful night. Deciding to drink in the environs for a moment, Tyler found a bench under a tree by the library, swung his backpack to the ground, and sat down. Tyler found he was in a reflective mood. Why do we need such places to encourage an inquiring mind to learn and grow? Why does the interaction between student and teacher sometimes connect and sometimes not? He was thinking about teachers when his attention was drawn toward a tall, lean, gray-haired, and bespectacled old man exiting the library. He was obviously laboring with some rather large volumes under his right arm. Sizing him up as he walked down the library steps and out into the courtyard, Tyler’s first thought was that if it were not for the books he was carrying, that frail-looking, unpretentious man could be the groundskeeper. Not paying him more than moderate attention, Tyler was startled as the man lost his grip on the books just as he passed the bench where Tyler was sitting. The books were sprawled out all over the ground, and Tyler quickly assisted the man in picking them up. As Tyler turned to return them, the old man thanked him and then paused to ask, “You look like you might be lost or looking for someone. Could I direct you somehow?” Tyler smiled because the man spoke in a barely understandable mumble, and it seemed like this guy was more in need of someone helping him. Without really thinking, Tyler answered mischievously, “De omnibus dubitandum. I guess that might depend on what you mean by lost and what you mean by looking.” At that moment, the two locked gazes and a profusion of information was exchanged without either one saying a word. The old man had been around enough young people in his lifetime to know that there was something definitely different about this one. The boy’s physique and facial attributes showed that he was obviously a teenager, but his carriage was all wrong, at least, wrong for someone as young as he was. Young people have a sort of restlessness about them, which is displayed in their body movements, mannerisms, and patterns of speech. Especially around older people, they attempt to act more mature than they are, evidenced in a sort of social clumsiness. Yet, in an instant the man noted that this boy was totally unlike that. In just these few moments, he saw that the young man in front of him displayed a confidence that was not youthful hubris or a put-on imitation. The timbre of his voice spoke of youth, but the tenor of his voice was something else—something that the old man could not quite put his finger on. And his perfectly enunciated Latin quote which translates, ‘be suspicious of everything, doubt everything,’ was also significant. The old man knew this was a favorite quote of Karl Marx. Whoever this young man was, he was not who he appeared to be on the surface. Tyler, likewise, saw something in the eyes of this senior citizen that he could not explain. The man’s manner spoke of a gentleness that disarmed Tyler. He realized that his first impression had been completely wrong; this man was no groundskeeper. Whoever he was, he was kind. And judging by the titles of the books that Tyler saw he was reading, he was also quite intelligent. Tyler was not the type of person to trust people, but as he sized up the old guy, he knew he did not exactly distrust him, either. The gentleman finally spoke, “Nemine contradicente! Since you are not lost or looking for anyone in particular, do you have any plans for dinner?” Tyler was slightly taken aback, torn between his natural caution and his piqued curiosity of the man. He was mildly enjoying the playful Latin banter. As he translated the expression, he had to agree he had no good reason to turn down the man. He hesitantly answered, “Actually, I was looking for a restaurant when I wandered on the grounds.” The old man handed one unwieldy volume over to Tyler, “You can help me carry this back to my office, and then I will treat you to the best dinner on campus.” Tyler weighed the offer only briefly, then nodded his consent to the request, and followed the man along the sidewalk toward Machen Hall. As they walked along, the man turned to him and said, “My name is Cornelius Van Til. I teach here.” Tyler offered his hand, “Pleased to meet you, Dr. Van Til. You can call me Ishmael.”