"A Professors' Debate"
                         by:  Kevin C. Bissessar
                       Release Date:  Sept 1, 1997
                       Revised Date:  July 3, 1997


June 15, 2039


      The grey clouds loomed over the city of Toronto, hinting at the
possibility of a late afternoon thunderstorm.  Kevin had been expecting
the rain shower all day, but it hadn't come until early this evening.  The
clouds seemed to centre itself over the downtown core, making it difficult
to see some of the taller office buildings in the city.  A flash of
lightning raked across the sky, like a mighty claw attempting to swipe at
the skyscrapers.
      "Thunderstorm's approaching," Kevin said to his professor colleagues
present in his English classroom.
      "You don't need to be at the window to tell us that," said Jane, an
English professor who usually spent most of her teaching time at the
Scarborough campus.  "Why don't you come back and join us?"
      "I just wanted to see nature in all its fury," said Kevin.  "Wow! 
You could barely see the C.N. Tower from here."
      "Haven't you seen enough rainfalls throughout your lifetime?" asked
Jonathan, a St. George campus English professor, just like Kevin.
      "No," Kevin said smiling as he continued to gaze outside the window.
"Oh, I think I see a raindrop."
      The classroom door swung open and Professor Richard Malinson came
inside.  He was carrying two cups of coffee in his hands, and gave one to
Jane as he approached her.  Richard had momentarily stepped outside of the
classroom to get himself a hot drink, and brought back one to Jane as she
requested.  Now that everyone was here, Kevin left the window and took his
seat among his friends. 
      "What was the last thing we were talking about before I left?" asked
Richard who took a sip of his black coffee.
      The group began remembering titbits of the conversation they had,
and Jonathan was the first person to speak.  "Kisasian, ... I believe,"
said Jonathan.
      "Character analysis, to be correct," said Jane.
      Wednesday evenings were usually spent discussing works of literature
among the four professor colleagues.  Last week, the group had discussed
mystery novels and debated whether or not Sherlock Holmes was the greatest
detective in literary history.  This week, it was Kevin's turn to pick a
topic, and he chose memorable antagonists in animal literature over the
past 150 years.  Wednesday evenings were great times for the group.  They
challenged each another with ideas and thoughts, knowing that they weren't
debating with novice students, but with professional academic adults in
their fields.
      "Ah yes, I remember.  Kisasian," said Richard.  He looked straight
on at Kevin, knowing that he was the one who brought Kisasian and _The
Tales of Tanabi_ into the discussion.  "Not that I think Kisasian is
worthy enough to be discussed, ... " Richard said, partly to rile Kevin
out of fun.
      "Not _worthy_ enough?" Kevin questioned with heavy emphasis.  He
looked beyond Richard's shoulders to see his Kisasian artwork.  "Perhaps
you should turn around and see Kisasian yourself."
      Richard turned around and smirked at the painting.  "Paintings do
not describe a character.  _Character_ describes a character."  Richard
turned around to face Kevin again.  "Your mighty `Kisasian' may be king,
but he is definitely no leader.  If you want to see real leadership, you
take a look at General Woundwort from Adams's _Watership Down_."  Richard
tapped Adams's novel on his desk.  "Here is a rabbit who doesn't have the
power of a lion, but is able to create a vast, efficient society with a
highly trained security task force and protection against man's guns and
predator's teeth.  Kisasian cannot even come _close_ to offer this type of
protection and hierarchial structure for his kingdom."
      Richard paused to allow Kevin to comment on what he had just said. 
Kevin took the opportunity to speak.
      "Ah, but Kisasian's hierarchial structure is the food chain, and the
lions are on top of it," Kevin said in defense of Kisasian.  "There's no
need to go into security and protection when you're the strongest animal
around."
      Jonathan decided to step in.  "But if we look at Kisasian, his
societal structure is natural for him.  Woundwort changes what nature
gives him, to the point where he removes his society OFF the food chain. 
Woundwort is a genius."
      "So, Kev, you're telling me that being on top of the food chain
allows a king to exercise no leadership?  Am I hearing this correctly?"
asked Richard.
      Kevin shook his head.  "No, that is NOT what I'm saying.  All I'm
saying is that Kisasian's kingdom does not require the extreme amount of
protection that Woundwort provides for his society of Efrafa.  He still
needs to exercise leadership if he wants to make the Circle of Life work
for him..."
      "Which, by the way, is not evident in _The Tales of Tanabi_," said
Richard.  "Unless you call running off with a whole pride of lions to 
avenge one's father `leadership'."
      Jane decided to speak.  "You both are missing the target.  Napoleon 
from Orwell's _Animal Farm_ displays true leadership.  Kisasian has a 
small kingdom based on nature.  Woundwort creates a society based on Nazi 
Germany.  Napoleon recreates Stalinist Russia right in his own farmyard. 
He drives away the farmer, implements communism, creates utopia for a
while, temporarily equalizes the animals, and eventually comes out on top
as head pig."
      "Now wait a minute, Jane," said Richard.  "Orwell wrote political 
satires.  Of course his characters are going to possess some kind of human
knowledge about political systems...."
      "Which, if I may emphasize, also applies to General Woundwort and 
his 20th Century knowledge of implementing fascism," Kevin said.
      "Ah, but doesn't Kisasian also have some human knowledge as well?"
questioned Jonathan, who seemed to have remained silent throughout the
discussion.  "The entire lion kingdom is derived from a political
monarchy.  And, it is us humans who have given the lions a `kingdom' and
the title of `king'.  That doesn't come out of Kisasian's intellect."
      "So we're back to square one, then?" asked Jane.  "If you eliminate
all the human political structures which are written in these three
stories, you're left with a plain, dumb animal.  Except for the pig
Napoleon --whom we all know that pigs are bright creatures."  Jane smiled
brightly at the group of professors.
      Richard gave Jane a mock smile, and Jonathan only listened to the
rainfall.  Kevin would've liked to argue that Joshua Templin didn't write
_The Tales of Tanabi_ out of politics, but he suspected everyone was
getting bored of the `leadership' topic.
      The group of four professors continued their discussions on great
animal antagonists over the past 150 years.  Thunder boomed occasionally
and the rain hammered away at the windows of the English classroom.  The
storm couldn't have come at a better time.  It was like all of the
fearful, destructive, and over-powering animal creatures were trying to
break into the classroom, wanting to protect their dignity and character
from verbal attacks from the professors.
      They didn't know that at least one antagonist was already in the
classroom ...

      The late afternoon turned into early evening.  The thunder was gone,
the lightning moved on, and only a light drizzle patted the windows of the
St. George campus building.  There was no more coffee to be drank, no more
novels to be opened.  The group of professors had used up their hour and
a half to debate critically and analytically, and all four of them were
mentally beat.  Kevin began passing out cups of water to soothe the
professors' throats.  Speaking required a lot of saliva.
      "I *really* don't know how I'm going to give a lecture to my
nighttime students now," said Jonathan as he took a sip of his ice-cold
water.  He smiled at his other friends.
      Jane began putting on a spring jacket.  "At least the rain let up. 
No telling *how* many accidents occurred along the Don Valley Parkway
during that freak shower."
      "Oh, the storm was expected, Jane," said Kevin.  "Although not quite
this late."  He drank more of his water.
      "Well, tonight was a pretty good debate night," said Richard,
standing up.  He approached Kevin to shake his hand.  "I still think
Woundwort could easily out manoeuvre Kisasian in many different areas. 
But at least you put up a good challenge."
      Kevin shook Richard's hand, and smirked a bit.  "Challenge?  Hah --I
thought I left you in the dust."
      Richard smiled.  "That's what you think..."  Richard clasped his
forearms together in a motion to conserve heat.  He looked around the room
for a source of coldness.  "Hey, Kev, why is this room so cold?  It's like
Antarctica in here, or something,..."
      Kevin shrugged his shoulders.  "I dunno.  The air conditioner has
been giving me problems all year round.  That's why I wear a suit to
class."  The professor showed off his suit, grinning at the short-sleeved
Richard.  "Maintenance said they'd get right to it, but I sent in that
inspection request about two or three weeks ago.  I haven't heard from
them since."
      Richard began moving to the back of the classroom, trying to
determine the source of coldness.  He approached the Kisasian painting,
and felt like touching it.
      "Oooooh!" Richard exclaimed, as he pulled his hand quickly away from
the picture.  "This painting's _cold_!"
      "Hey!  Hey!  Hey!  Don't go touching Kisasian now!" called Kevin, 
running over to protect his valuable Kisasian artwork.  "I don't go into
your room and start poking Lestat, do I?"
      "No, and you better not!" said Richard, being partial to vampires
and Anne Rice's earlier works from the 1990s.  He began looking at the
blackish-orange lion king painting from all sorts of angles.  "This thing
never smiled, did it?"
      "I don't think so," Kevin said.  "I don't recall an instance in _The
Tales of Tanabi_ where Kisasian did smile."
      Jonathan cleared away the tables and began moving the desks back
into place.  "Speaking about Lestat, I think I know what we should talk
about next week:  vampires in modern horror literature, and why they've
become a popular icon in recent times."
      "Sounds like a good idea, John," said Jane.  "Well, Kev, I'm off."
      "Me too," said Jonathan.  He glanced down at his watch.  "It's
almost seven.  Time to go teach a class."
      Richard finished his drink and rudely thrusted his empty glass to
Kevin, like a master to a servant.  "I'm outta here."  He joined up with
the other two professors and departed from the classroom.  Kevin was alone
once more.  He straightened a few desks and pushed in a few chairs; the
furniture legs screeched against the linoleum floor.  Once the door was
closed, Kevin walked to the back of the classroom and stood in front of
his favourite lion painting, Kisasian.
      "I suspect professor Richard Malinson is going to think twice about
you," said Kevin.  The air at the back of the classroom was cool, like
Richard had said.  But that was because the air conditioner hadn't been
working properly in months.  Kevin looked up and tried to feel for the
source of the cool draft.  Seconds passed by and he couldn't find it.
      This is what happens when governments cut back on university
funding, Kevin thought.  Poor maintenance of university equipment.  He
shook off the thought and looked back at the Kisasian artwork.
      "Mr. Malinson never really liked _The Tales of Tanabi_.  He thinks
it was one of Templin's weaker works of fiction.  But I don't think so." 
Kevin pressed his fingers on Kisasian's forehead.  It didn't feel cold
today.  "I wonder why Richard jolted his hand back?" Kevin said, pondering
his question.  "You don't feel cold today.  I wonder ..."  Kevin tapped
his fingers on the lion's forehead before removing his hand.
      "I defended your character today," Kevin continued.  "Not that it
pleased me, for I don't totally agree with your character traits.  I'm
sure if you were real, you would've jumped out of that painting and
defended your dignity yourself."  Kevin momentarily glanced at the rabbit
Hazel who stood off to the side of Kisasian.  "Of course, you'd have to
know who General Woundwort and Napoleon are.  But I suspect if you've been
paying attention to my lectures all these years, you should be able to
distinguish who all these characters and authors are."  Kevin motioned a
hand to all the other paintings and pictures that were on the walls.  The
professor looked back at the painting, wondering if Kisasian even cared
for the other characters in the room.  If he knew the dark lion well
enough, he would think that Kisasian held nothing but contempt for
everything in the room.  Kevin might even go so far as to think that
Kisasian hated to be here, listening to mundane lectures spoken by an
insignificant human.  He could imagine a claw coming out at him
every now and again, just to take a whack at the professor for boring
Kisasian.
      A <SCREECH> was heard, and Kevin snapped around quickly.  Jane was
in the room, looking startled at first.  She had accidentally pushed a
chair and alerted her presence to Kevin.
      "Jane, ... what are you doing here?" asked Kevin, who was even more
startled than Jane.  Kevin was caught speaking to his lion painting.
      "I came to get my students' final exam papers.  I had forgotten them
here when I left," said Jane.
      Kevin looked at Jane, then at the Kisasian picture, and then at Jane
again.  "How long have you been listening to me?"
      "Not long," said Jane, sheepishly.  "I came in when you said `I
defended your character...' or something like that."
      Kevin nodded.  "Don't think I'm going senile just because I'm
talking to a painting..."
      Jane approached Kevin with a questioning look.  "Now why would I
think that?"
      "Isn't it obvious?  An old man talking to a painting?  Doesn't that
sound strange?" said Kevin.
      "Not at all," said Jane.  She finally made it to the back of the
classroom and looked at the Kisasian painting.  "There's nothing wrong
with talking to a painting.  If it's any consolation, I speak to my
Shakespeare bust I have on my desk."
      Kevin blinked surprisingly.  "You do?"
      Jane nodded.  "Sometimes when I'm reading a book or a play, I want
to compare passages with that of Shakespeare's works.  I sometimes mumble 
quotations to my Shakespeare bust, or hold my hand on Shakespeare's head
for inspiration.  We all have our favourite characters and authors we'd
like to talk to.  There's nothing to be ashamed about."
      Kevin nodded his head and looked back at the painting.  "Jane, do
you think Kisasian is real?"
      Jane thought for a moment before she answered Kevin's question. 
"Yes, Kevin, I think Kisasian is real.  But then again, I think of all of
Shakespeare's characters are real.  Macbeth, Hamlet, Othello, Caesar, King
Lear -- they're all real people.  Well-written characters are as real as
we want to make them.  They exist in our minds, and they are given life
inside there.  They may not exist in the physical world, but who's to NOT
say that the physical world is the only place where life has to exist? 
The imagination is a wonderful place.  It is only in that world where you
can have Kisasian meet Othello, or Dracula take on Big Brother.  Do you
see what I'm saying?"
      Kevin nodded his head.  "I believe so."
      "Characters live as long as we remember them," said Jane.  "As long
as they can touch us, make us sad, cry, laugh, frighten, sympathize, or
scared, ... then they are real.  But when a character stops to do that,
and the reader no longer cares for that story anymore, then sadness truly
occurs for that character -- for that living thing dies in the
imagination, and is never looked upon again."  Jane looked back at lion
painting.  "As long as you think Kisasian is real, he is real.  But the
moment you do not care for him -- the moment he ceases to represent
anything to you -- he dies." Jane paused for a moment  "Am I being clear
on this?"
      "Very," Kevin said enthusiastically.
      "Good.  Now, I have to go home and get these final exam papers
marked."  Jane looked at the clock above Kisasian.  "At least rush hour is
over.  I hope I can make it out to Scarborough without any traffic
slowdowns.  You know how water can affect the electromagnetic strips on
the roads."
      Kevin grinned slightly.  "Yeah.  Water's a pain when gliding a
hovercar.  Probably have to use your tires tonight."  He escorted Jane to
the exit.  "I'll see you soon."
      "Good night, Kevin," Jane said as she left the room.
      Kevin decided to secure the doors lock before attempting to speak in
front of Kisasian again.  "I'm pretty tired to say anything meaningful to
you right now, except for the fact that Lisani is bearing cubs in her womb
as we --er, I speak.  I even think she said that you love her, and that 
you verbally spoke those words.  You're surprising me all the time, lion. 
Perhaps this picture IS capable of change."
      Kevin smiled with that thought as he returned to his desk and closed
the window shutters through the use of the console screen.  He packed a
few novels away into the top desk drawer and cleaned off the chalkboard.
      "I leave you alone, Kisasian," Kevin said as he turned off the 
lights and headed out the door.  "Good night, everybody."


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Copyright (C) 1995, 1997