5. (Reader's Watch) Werba Dead-Beat Seconds | The Genius

The doorman opens the door for an old man in his sixties, whose clothes are not very well put together.  The old man doesn’t notice the disapproving look that the doorman gives him.  The last decades he’s been shun by his peers at the university, where he’s played the part of an absentminded professor, have made him impervious to such snobbery.  He enters the store, the best jeweler in town, a famous international chain in fact, to have his watch serviced. The almost fifty years he’s had the watch, he has always taken care of it himself. Although he knows the hand wound movement, the famed Chezard cal.7400 like the back of his hand, now that he’s getting on with age, his eyes and hands just wouldn’t allow him to continue with such detailed and delicate work with as much ease and finesse as before.  The old man patiently waits his turn at the counter, when he hears a wealthy looking and sharply dressed man, being shown a Tourbillion, exclaim, ‘that is such genius!’

‘That’s genius’ is an everyday expression of praise for someone’s cleverness, insight, creativity, or ingenuity.  It’s not usually taken literally.  However, in the old man’s case, he truly IS a genius, at least according to his IQ score. At an IQ above 100, one might be above average in intelligence and anything from 140 would be considered having a high IQ.  Anyone scoring above 160 is truly a genius.  That’s exactly what the doctors said to the genius’ parents all those years ago at the clinic, that their son is the textbook definition of a genius.  His parents were at their wits ends, trying to figure out what’s wrong with their beloved only child, why was his acting so withdrawn one minute and so erratic the next?  Naturally they blame themselves for his condition, maybe that’s their punishment for insisting on trying to have a baby all these years and giving birth to one so late in life? When they found out from the doctor that the genius is in fact, a genius, they were neither happy nor excited.  Because at that time there weren’t any support for gifted children in schools. Elitism, in 1960s post-war East Germany, is taboo.  To be elite was something to be frowned upon in an era which equality is the zeitgeist. The genius’ parents would have been more relieved, if he was diagnosed with a mental disability, at least they would be less clueless as to how they can help him. All they could do now is to teach him how to be normal and to not draw attention to himself.

And tried to be normal he did.  For years after, in school, he would never put up his hands to answer questions and during tests he would deliberately write in slow motion to avoid being the first to finish.  He avoided his peers, preferring the company of books, and his one true indulgence - comics.  Through his American academic connections, the genius’ father would be able to, from time to time, get old, already read issues of Superman comics. The genius loved Superman, and quite understandably, how can he not identify with someone who possess superpowers but has to act normal to avoid being misunderstood?  It was during one of those solitary reading sessions, when the genius was already in his teens, that his father came home, went to him and told him that he’s got something for him. The genius was excited, for he thought he’s getting a new issue of the comic, he’s been through the old ones so many times that he could actually recite them in his mind.  But when his father opened his weathered brown leather briefcase, it was not the usual rectangular shaped envelope he took out, but rather a small pouch.  ‘What’s that?’ The genius asked his father curiously.  ‘Open it and you’ll see. I asked a Swiss colleague of mine to get this, it is something that reminds me very much of you.’  The genius carefully opens the draw string pouch and peeks inside.  ‘It’s a watch!’ he exclaims.  As he excitedly examines the hand wound gold plated Werba Geneve, he asks his father ‘but why does this watch remind you of me?’ His father smiles, as he puts the watch on the genius’ yet too slender wrist, ‘because this is a true genius’ watch, it’s pretending to be something less but it knows it’s so much more.’ Seeing that the genius is confused, he continues to explain ‘you see my boy, a mechanical watch usually has sweeping a second hand’ his father motions his index finger in a circle on top of the crystal, ‘which means it goes around the dial without stopping, unlike the quartz watches nowadays which rely on batteries to power their movements but…’ Before his father can continue, the genius has already caught on ‘but this watch is a mechanical watch with a second hand that stops?’ asks the genius as he winds the watch up instinctively.  ‘Quite precisely’, after all these years, he is still amazed at his son’s ability to quickly grasp complex concepts.  ‘In fact, some say that a watch with what the watch maker would call a dead-beat seconds may be the ultimate complication. For a start, almost the only person who’ll spot it will be another…’ ‘Superman!’ the genius interrupts again, ‘the watch, like Superman knows he’s special but wouldn’t let anyone else knows!’

The old man slides his watch under his stained sleeve cuff and makes his way to the entrance of the store. ‘Wouldn’t want people to discover our true identities just yet would we’, he mumbles to himself.  As he quietly leaves the store, leaving behind a trace of unpleasant scent, the doorman is happy to be rid of a homeless man who clearly didn’t belong.