February 21, 2007

Truly, (Watchmaker) God smiles upon our enterprise! Today, the Leibniz Projekt has encountered success to match our loftiest aspirations. We will prevail.
At History of Science lecture this morning, I discreetly placed the box of Leibniz on the table in front of me as the other students entered 211 Dickinson and prepared for their imminent edification. Burnett would see it. Burnett would know what it meant.
Flipping aimlessly through my course packet, I chanced upon Jonathan Swift’s chapter on Laputa in Gulliver’s Travels, and his diagram of the scientists’ frame-and-crank device, a parodic sort of analytical engine. Turning to Sam, I attempted to engage in one of my favorite pastimes: baiting him about Charles Babbage, the subject of his Fall Term JP. He swiftly reminded me that Gulliver’s Travels had been published nearly a century before Babbage or his ür-computer had appeared in England. Set back but not daunted, I pressed on, chiding him for not seeing who else Swift might be lampooning.
“It’s not…” he replied hesitantly, “is it that shitty computer built by Leibniz?”
Just as Sam dropped the L-bomb, Professor Burnett’s head snapped up from his lecture notes and fixed us with the stare of Thor hearing someone say that the Jormungand serpent had been spotted in his neighborhood. His eyes flitted from Sam’s face, to mine, to the box of buttery biscuits before us, then back to Sam.
“You’re… you’re still trying to…”
“Yes,” we replied in concert.
“Grafton is in today,” I added with a grin. Burnett merely shook his head, but doubtfully or worriedly I could not say. I returned the Leibniz to my bag and opened my notebook. Gottfried’s work was done. For the time being.
***
After lecture, Sam and I swung by Grafton’s empty office to check on the status of his office hours sign-up sheet. To our delight, his 4:00 appointment had cancelled, and we quickly scribbled in “Daniel Eison and special guest G.W.L.” A warning, yes, but a warning is only fair when dealing with a luminary of Grafton’s wattage.
One problem was posed in the timing of Peter Schäfer’s Religion seminar, which I attend from 1:30 until 4:20 every Wednesday. Should I wait, and trust to hope that I could waylay the wily humanist as he exited Dickinson? Nay, it was decided, Fortune favors the bold. A meeting with a professor was as valid an excuse as any to leave class a few minutes early, but the plan hinged on Professor Schäfer’s compassion for the plight of an over-booked pupil. This was important, right? I mean, who knows when Grafton will come back to campus again, and his photograph would be the key to unlocking Burnett’s portcullis of resolved opposition. Sam and I wandered off to our respective seminars, giddy with hope and anxiety.
***
“Professor Schäfer, I’m very sorry, but I have a meeting with another professor at four o’clock, and…”
It worked.
***
Entering Grafton’s office, I noticed that I was still nervous in this imposing man’s presence. His beard had grown longer since I’d seen him last. I spoke rapidly at first about John Henry Pepper, a Victorian scientist who had recently caught my scholarly attention, hoping desperately that Grafton would not realize that I had come for other, more eccentric reasons.
“Ah, Professor, Grafton… have you, ah… Sam Zeitlin and I have conceived of a project.” His bushy eyebrows shot up in curiosity; I forged ahead against the rising tide of nervous energy. “We have found these…” and here, I produced the Leibniz, “and they seem to hold a special attraction to historians of science.” Encouraged by Grafton’s smile, I continued: “And, you see, our project is an attempt to photograph the entire faculty of History of Science with… ah, with the Leibniz. So…”
He told me to go on YouTube.
This was puzzling. Could he be refusing? Was the entire initiative crashing to my feet?
He told me to search for the Athanasius Kircher Society, where I might find Grafton and several other individuals who would probably be willing to pose with the Leibniz. He threw up his hands, declaring, “I’ve already made a fool of myself on YouTube, so why not?" He picked up the box of Leibniz and posed for the photograph. Every monad of my soul wanted to sing for joy. I assured him that I would keep him posted on further developments in the Projekt, he wished me good luck (I think it was good luck) in German. I said “Danke” and ducked out.
I ran upstairs.
***
When Professor Burnett next looks on his office door, he will see that signed up for his 12:30 PM slot on February 26 is Gottfried Wilhelm Leibniz. He will know what this means.
***
On my way out of Dickinson, who should I encounter but Professor Michael Gordin! I told him I’d been looking for him. He looked surprised, but not as surprised as I when an etiolated graduate student did emerge, like Nosferatu, from the shadows behind me.
“You’re not seriously…”
“Yes. Yes I am. Professor Gordin, are you acquainted with Leibniz?” I asked, producing the biscuits. He was, and said as much.
“He’s going to want a photo,” the grad student chimed in.
“Indeed I am,” quoth I, unabashed. After all, I had just faced down the greater bugbear of my confidence; not to diminish Gordin at all, but his beard isn’t nearly as long as Grafton’s. “Would you like to try one of the cookies?”
“No thank you. I would actually rather have Choco-Leibniz.”
I snapped one picture of Gordin with the Leibniz, and made my escape.
***
I pumped my fist in the air as I walked away from Dickinson. Two squirrels and a freshman wondered why.