09-24-2013, 08:13 AM
If there were secret languages written beneath these relics of antiquity, Jensen was hardly aware of their presence. The extent of his experience with conspiracy theories ended with eschatology, the study of the end times as described in the Bible. Times yet to come, not with things that already had come to pass.
Movement in the periphery caught his eye, and he looked up from his own studies. He'd noticed the librarian escort the newly arrived gentleman to an open table half an hour or maybe a whole hour ago? It was the same woman that showed him to a seat with no less stern a warning. At the time, Jensen had bowed his head and assured her his respect for the books was authentic, but he understood her right to question. He was in jeans and a button-down shirt, but both were wrinkled and worn - the jeans part of his usual work wardrobe on the docks, the shirt dull and generic. He hardly felt like the academic used to standing on stage; between the clothes and thin beard, he'd fit in more with the back-row Christians hoping to be overlooked by the crowd.
He wasn't one to eavesdrop, but he watched the newcomer seat himself alongside the scholar that'd been diligently working this last hour or two. How long had he been here? Jensen stifled a yawn at the thought. He was usually passed out at this time of day, but that same protective streak that urged him to oversee others' welfare spiked once more before he simmered it back to a reasonable level. The man, suited, confident, threatening, was clearly unwelcome. Jensen merely watched, concerned, and ready to do something, though what exactly he had no clue, should the situation turn sour.
While they carried on their 'overly civil' conversation, right, Jensen eventually shoved back the chair and got up for a stretch. He bent and twisted, going through the same physical routine that paused his studies back in divinity school. Days and days curled over books far more numerous than the two open before him now; dictionaries and thesauri spanning from Greek to Hebrew, topics covering apologetics, hermeneutics, eschatology, commentaries and concordances, and on and on. To pour over such ancient pages now took him back to days long gone.
He took a deep breath, and glanced in time to witness the intruder's departure. A relief to say the least. Though Jensen had no explanation for the tension he'd sensed, but he had to wonder.
He should sit back down and let the man be. Obviously his work had been interrupted once, but the hooks were firmly in his skin and as soon as the way was clear, Jensen found himself approaching. He had to ask.
"Sorry to bother you," he kept his voice low what with the librarian's stern warnings still fresh in his mind. Now that he was closer, he scanned what pages had occupied the scholar's attention this whole time. As much as what he could see from the angle, he absorbed it for what it was: a page covered with the familiar symbols of Latin. Beautiful.
"I couldn't help but overhear," he said with a bit more directness, "but you said 'the Bible may be more than what it professes to be.' May I ask what you meant by that?" He assumed the man meant that the Bible wasn't the Word of God but merely another historical artifact as most secularized beliefs inferred, but it was the man's exact phrasing that brought Jensen over. What more could a thing be than the inspired word of God?
Movement in the periphery caught his eye, and he looked up from his own studies. He'd noticed the librarian escort the newly arrived gentleman to an open table half an hour or maybe a whole hour ago? It was the same woman that showed him to a seat with no less stern a warning. At the time, Jensen had bowed his head and assured her his respect for the books was authentic, but he understood her right to question. He was in jeans and a button-down shirt, but both were wrinkled and worn - the jeans part of his usual work wardrobe on the docks, the shirt dull and generic. He hardly felt like the academic used to standing on stage; between the clothes and thin beard, he'd fit in more with the back-row Christians hoping to be overlooked by the crowd.
He wasn't one to eavesdrop, but he watched the newcomer seat himself alongside the scholar that'd been diligently working this last hour or two. How long had he been here? Jensen stifled a yawn at the thought. He was usually passed out at this time of day, but that same protective streak that urged him to oversee others' welfare spiked once more before he simmered it back to a reasonable level. The man, suited, confident, threatening, was clearly unwelcome. Jensen merely watched, concerned, and ready to do something, though what exactly he had no clue, should the situation turn sour.
While they carried on their 'overly civil' conversation, right, Jensen eventually shoved back the chair and got up for a stretch. He bent and twisted, going through the same physical routine that paused his studies back in divinity school. Days and days curled over books far more numerous than the two open before him now; dictionaries and thesauri spanning from Greek to Hebrew, topics covering apologetics, hermeneutics, eschatology, commentaries and concordances, and on and on. To pour over such ancient pages now took him back to days long gone.
He took a deep breath, and glanced in time to witness the intruder's departure. A relief to say the least. Though Jensen had no explanation for the tension he'd sensed, but he had to wonder.
He should sit back down and let the man be. Obviously his work had been interrupted once, but the hooks were firmly in his skin and as soon as the way was clear, Jensen found himself approaching. He had to ask.
"Sorry to bother you," he kept his voice low what with the librarian's stern warnings still fresh in his mind. Now that he was closer, he scanned what pages had occupied the scholar's attention this whole time. As much as what he could see from the angle, he absorbed it for what it was: a page covered with the familiar symbols of Latin. Beautiful.
"I couldn't help but overhear," he said with a bit more directness, "but you said 'the Bible may be more than what it professes to be.' May I ask what you meant by that?" He assumed the man meant that the Bible wasn't the Word of God but merely another historical artifact as most secularized beliefs inferred, but it was the man's exact phrasing that brought Jensen over. What more could a thing be than the inspired word of God?