Mackenzie: A Dream
A professor paced before his class, reciting the following tale:
“A professor met a man named Mackenzie. Soon thereafter, the professor’s wife left him, taking their four children with her. In a short time she became terminally ill. On her deathbed, she spoke warmly of her children. She never mentioned the professor; it was as if he had never existed.
“Pity poor Mackenzie if he ever meets another professor.”
The professor paused and gazed over the expectant faces of his students. “Why did I say that? Write two to three sentences explaining. You have five minutes.”
The classroom was tense and silent for the first two or three minutes. Then a few students began making tentative scratching noises with their pens. Soon most of the class was writing feverishly. When the five minutes were up, the professor called for volunteers to read out their explanations.
“Ms. Steinberg?”
Steinberg stood up. “Mackenzie seduced the professor’s wife, causing her to leave her husband and forget about him utterly, and also infecting her with the AIDS virus, which killed her. This professor was meek and passive. But the next time, Mackenzie won’t get away with it, because the next professor he cuckolds will wring his neck.”
“Hmmph,” said the professor as Steinberg sat down. “Mr. O’Neal?”
O’Neal rose. “Mackenzie is a compulsive serial murderer of motherly faculty wives. He poisoned the professor’s wife, causing her to become deluded and eventually die. If he meets another professor, he’ll be compelled to kill again, thus compounding his sin and removing him even further from any possibility of redemption.”
The professor nodded noncommittally, and O’Neal sat down. “Mr. Segel?”
“When the professor’s wife left him for Mackenzie, he killed her. On her deathbed she realized it was her husband who had done this wicked deed, but she chose to go out on a positive note and simply ignored the existence of her husband, the evildoer. Mackenzie, however, is to be pitied, because the next time he seduces a professor’s wife, he himself might be the victim of homicidal rage.”
When Segel was finished, Ms. Stone spoke up. “The professor was a bad man who neglected and abused his wife. It was Mackenzie who really loved her and who was devastated when this saintly, devoted woman fell ill and died. But then he discovered that actually she had murdered her abusive husband, in league with the four children. That’s why she didn’t mention him on her deathbed. But then⎯”
“Whoa, Ms. Stone. You’re over the three-sentence limit. Anyone else?”
“This is all just speculation,” Ms. Lee piped up. “There’s no evidence that Mackenzie even knew the professor’s wife, let alone had anything to do with her abandonment of her husband, her death, or her failure to acknowledge her husband before she died. Maybe Mackenzie is just a pitifully deranged person who believes that whenever he meets a professor, the professor’s wife will drop dead.”
The professor smiled. “How entertaining. If this were a creative writing class, you would all certainly get high grades for your vivid imaginations.” He looked around to see if anyone else would volunteer. No one did.
“Well, it seems nobody has solved the mystery. Class dismissed!” And he turned toward the door.
“Wait!” A young woman leaped up from the back of the room, pointing her finger. The professor froze with his hand on the doorknob.
“You, Professor Mackenzie, dreamed this preposterous nonsense last night after you returned home from a drunken debauch with another professor’s wife,” she shouted. “Having prepared nothing for today’s lesson, you covered yourself by concocting this pointless story and forcing us to come up with an explanation that doesn’t exist. You are a pitiful wretch!”
“Good try, my dear,” said the professor icily. “I’m sure your professor-husband very much misses you and your rational explanations of things. Unfortunately, rationality is not a reliable guide in the world of dreams. So although I should like to give you a passing grade, I’m afraid I cannot.
“Besides, are you quite sure you’d be alive to receive it?”