Who is that Person?

Written as a narrative by the subject in picture 14

With a heavy heart I sit here in my employer’s cellar. The life of a scholar I chose, but never did I imagine I would be here in this hopelessly dark room. I am not a slave, though sometimes my occupation leads me to believe I am. I will stay here going over my research for who knows how long (months, years, my entire lifetime?) only for my employer to publish my work as his own. It is not all hopeless however. The room and board I receive are more than I can ask for in these trying times, and I am not fighting for my life as a soldier or working myself to exhaustion as a blacksmith.

                I’m taking a break from my work pondering my life. As a child I dreamt of raising my own family on the land my father tilled as I took over the farm. However, in school mathematics dazzled me, and I was able to advance quickly enough to gain acceptance to Oxford. Tuition was far too expensive for a child raised on a farm however. Luckily, a wealthy man who had heard of my predicament offered to help me with my fiscal troubles, as long as I agreed to work for him after I graduated. All I wanted was to explore the vast, unexplored world of math, and this man was my gateway to that world.

                If only I had known what I was getting myself into. Ever since I graduated I have lived in his manor’s cellar working on my theories. Only after I was published for the first time did I realize abhorrently large mistake I had made by accepting his offer. I was introduced to my fellow mathematicians as my employer’s assistant! The mathematics journal, with my theory, held his name, not mine. When I confronted him he said that I was in his debt, and such was only fair. I don’t know if I will ever be able to pay off my debt. I cannot leave, as I do not have the skills to avoid detection of those he will surely send to seek me out. Nor do I have the money, as my wage consists of a place to sleep and food in my stomach.  I even sill wear this old blue jacket that my mother had gotten me for my interview with Oxford.

What is bothering me right now however, is my yearning for a wife and family. If I had chosen a different path would I have a family now? I fear it is too late now to begin a family. I am almost forty, yet the years I have spent solving equations by candlelight make my eyes appear as if I am sixty. I could never hope to charm the golden haired woman I see when I go out. Even if I could, how would I provide for a family? The reimbursement I receive for my work is just enough to support myself alone, and I have spent too much of my life on these algorithms to give up now.

This is what I have devoted my life to. These numbers and variables are my wife and children, these equations my land, and these theories my harvest.