Rome Revisited
by Sean Perry
Walter F. Gardner had been acting strangely. Whenever he was addressed by his given name, he would whip off his thick, tortoise-shell glasses, wave them menacingly in the face of the speaker, crying, “How many times do I have to tell you! I wish to be called Nausica Serapio!”
It all began one morning when Walter and his roommate, Brian Grant, were studying in their respective bedrooms. Walter had walked into Brian’s room, his tan cords and velour shirt crumpled as usual, and said, “Bri, from now on I would prefer that you call me Nausica Serapio.”
“Why?” Brian asked.
“Publius Cornelius Scipio Nausica Serapio was the major political enemy of Cato the Elder. Cato was this ultra-conservative senator and Nausica fought him his whole career. He was Pontifex Maximus, the head of the Roman State religion. He also was the cousin of Scipio Africanus the younger, who destroyed Carthage in 146 B.C.”
“Walter, I don’t get why…”
“Wait! Best of all, Nausica was the murderer of Tiberius Gracchus, the ultra-radical tribune of the Plebs. Gracchus was trying to force an unconstitutional measure by overriding the Senate. Nausica picked up his stool, walked up to Gracchus and he clubbed him to death with it. Pretty cool, huh?”
“Yeah, well, if that’s what you want Wa…, I mean, Nausica Serapio.”
“Thanks Brian.”
Brian had thought Walter was attempting to be funny, something he had never been very good at. Since that day, Walter had gotten into arguments with friends, few as they were, parents, and even his teachers. For the three years they had been roommates, Walter had always been meek and unassuming. But now, in his final semester of school, Walter was more than gaining confidence, he was becoming downright condescending. Brian knew the cause of this problem: Walter’s change was due to the Classics Department.
Walter had chosen the Roman Literature class on a whim. It satisfied his last gen-ed requirement and it met at a convenient time. After the first week of classes, Brian noticed the change in Walter. He would sit in his room for hours, kneeling on the floor in front of his bed, reading some thick leather-bound tome. He appeared to be in a trance, rocking slowly back and forth, a bag of chips near his left hand, his right used only to turn pages. A stack of Walter’s unread Popular Mechanics had been forming on the kitchen table. Then came this “Nausica Serapio” business. Brian realized he had to do something. If Walter’s antics continued, he would be jeopardizing the $40,000 a year job he had been yearning for.
Brian was determined to keep Walter away from those damned books, if only for a day. He walked into Walter’s room and said, “Hey Serapio, what’re you up to?”
“Reading Cicero.”
“C’mon, man, put the book down. Let’s watch Return of the Jedi.”
Walter resisted, but upon further imploring, finally gave in. He plopped down on the couch and leaned back with a sigh. Brian noticed Walter’s paunch now stuck out of the bottom of his blue Oxford shirt, an article of clothing he’d confessed to having since sixteen. His hair had the disgusting sheen that appears only after numerous days without showering. For the first time, Brian found his best friend completely revolting.
They watched the movie in silence until the scene where the Emperor arrives at the Death Star and is greeted by Darth Vader.
“He has grown strong. Only together can we turn him to the dark side of the Force.”
“Yes, my Master.”
“Everything is proceeding as I have foreseen.”
Walter leapt to his feet. “Good Lord!” He cried, “I see it now. It’s all so clear! Brian, don’t you see? The Emperor in this movie is supposed to represent Augustus, the first Emperor of Rome. Darth Vader represents Marcus Vispanius Agrippa, the leading General who did all the fighting for Augustus…”
“Walter, I don’t know…”
“Shut up! I’m trying to think. That means if they are Augustus and Agrippa, that would make Luke Skywalker… AGRIPPA POSTHUMOUS! Of course! But Agrippa Posthumous was murdered after Augustus died. Maybe George Lucas is trying to show us is what would have happened if Agrippa Posthumous had lived! Yes. Yes! That would make Han Solo the Emperor Tiberius, Princess Leia is Julia, no, Agrippina… Damn, I need my copy of The Aenied!”
Brain ran to the window in time to see his friend’s sluggish form disappear around the corner. Brian waited and waited but Walter did not return. If he doesn’t show up at Civil Engineering, I’ll call the police, he decided. Brian grabbed his back pack and headed out to class.
Dr. Juba had just begun his lecture when Walter rushed in, breathing heavily. His face was covered in a film of sweat, and his clothes could be smelled ten feet away.
“Walter! Where have you been?”
“I was at the library reading-”
“Are you crazy?! What if you’d been caught in there after it closed?”
“Excuse me, Mr. Grant? Mr. Gardiner? May I ask what is so important to you that you feel the need to interrupt my entire lecture?”
Brian was paralyzed with dread. Dr. Juba had been their hero since freshman year. They had spent countless hours in his office and lab, trying to learn everything they could from this giant among engineers. Brian cringed whenever Dr. Juba launched words of criticism at him. Walter rose to his feet.
“I’ve told you, Dr. Juba, I wish to be addressed Nausica Serapio!”
“Walter, enough of this non…”
“No, enough of you! I’m sick of your domineering ways and I tire of your pompous attitude. You are my Tiberius Gracchus. I am the Brutus to your Caesar! I am the Suetorious to your Pompey! You speak of engineering, but what do you really know of the subject? Could you create an entrance hallway sixty feet wide and a mile long? The Emperor Nero did. He also had a one hundred and twenty foot statue of himself inside his front door. Could you have designed that? I think not! Or how about revolving rooms that follow the sun’s course? No, you can’t do anything like that. All you can teach us is how to build stupid little things out of balsa wood that can hold a lot of weight. Where’s the good stuff, Dr. Juba? Where’s Rome?”
“Walter, this is something we’ll have to work out privately. I think in your current state of mind you are unable to see…”
“No, Dr. Juba, it is you who can see nothing!”
Walter picked up his back pack and with a final look of disgust, stomped from the room. As Dr. Juba picked up the thread of his lecture, Walter could be heard shouting, “Remember Tiberius Gracchus!”
After class, Brian rushed home and headed straight for Walter’s room. He passed his own room and stopped suddenly. His bed was bare.
“What the…”
Brian turned around and stepped back in surprise. In front of him stood Walter; a sweating, stinking, greasy blob wrapped clumsily in his freshly washed white sheets. Gripped tightly in his hands was one of the old wooden stools from the kitchen.
“Brian, I forgive you for not coming to my aid when I was viciously attacked by Tiberius Gracchus today in the Forum. But he shall not be so forgiven.”
“What are you talking about? You mean in class today? Jesus, Walter!”
Walter lowered the stool and glared at Brian. “Young fool! Have you no concept of honor? I am the Pontifex Maximus and a leading senator, and that slimey little radical insulted me!”
SLAP!
Walter staggered back, a look of utter shock on his face.
“Brian… You hit me.”
“You’re darn right I did, Walter. Listen to yourself! It’s one thing to be interested in this stuff, but you’re talking crazy!”
Walter let the stool fall from his hand as he slumped to the floor.
“You’re right, I know. When I started doing the reading for my Classics course, I realized how science is completely useless. I hate engineering. I hate my parents. I hate my life!” Walter was openly weeping now. “In Ancient Rome, I found men I wanted to be: Nausica Serapio, Mark Antony, the Emperor Nero… God! Why did I have to be born Walter Gardner, living in a time when “leaders” are men like Bill Clinton, George Bush, Donald Trump, and Ted Kennedy?! When people make comments on the present when they have no clue of the glory of the past!”
“Listen Walter, maybe you should talk to someone about this.”
“Wha… what do you mean?” Walter asked feebly.
“Well, if it’s really bad, ya know, maybe you should go to a hospital for a little while or something.”
Walter’s body tensed as if he’d been struck with a live wire.
“What?!” He screeched, lurching to his feet. “Do you think Julius Caesar ever went to a shrink? Do you think Cicero was ever asked to tell someone about his mother? Do you think Crassus ever went to their looney bin? I am a Roman and I suffer no psychological problems because, like any good citizen, the State come before the individual! I have faith in the Gods! Yes! Yes! You almost tricked me! You were quite clever to make me think your foreign friend was my enemy.”
“Walter! Calm down! I…” Brian backed off steadily now. Walter’s bloodshot eyes were bursting with anger. He had picked up the stool again and was gripping it tightly.
“Yes! Yes! I see it all now! You are quite the master of disguise, aren’t you Tiberius Sempronius Gracchus!”
“Walter! NO!!”
Nausica Serapio lifted the stool high over his head and brought it down with thunderous force upon Brian’s head. Brian fell to the floor, but Serapio stood over him, hammering his skull with the remnants of his stool. Finally, gasping for air, he collapsed onto the bed, his toga covered in blood.
