“Who else would be able to write this?” The professor asks to another professor, holding a few sheets of paper in her hand. “It’s so fantastical, it’s like a new myth. Seriously. Of course it’s not the exercise I asked for,— but it’s what I’ve been looking for, just as someone who believes in fiction.” The other professor looks at her. “No, I can’t believe I’m saying it either.” She shrugs. “Will you take a look at it? I mean, it is incredibly interesting.”

The professor seated at his desk coughs and rubs a finger under his nose, then responds, “All right, leave it here. It’s unclear what you’re wanting me to do about it, though.”

“Well, yeah I’m not sure what I’m asking, but don’t you have at least an idea of what to do about it? Discipline? If it’s discipline I can take it from there. But that’s where I’m conflicted, because this is so good. Could I rightfully discourage it?”

The professor at his desk pulls a look of extreme exhaustion before he places his forehead in his hands and compresses circles into his temples.

The professor standing at the door with a few sheets of paper in her hand experiences a shift in her emotions. Bewilderment and frustration turn into fear.

She steps forward and drops the paper into a tray at the edge of the desk labeled “IN”.

Quietly her feet lead her away, through the hallway of offices. A storm descends over her thoughts - he has no clue, no one has any clue. No one has any answer. What the hell are we going to do— and no one cares! He doesn’t; he has no patience. He lacks humility, but he could be spared so much time, and with that time he could- he could literally become a better person, like an actual leader. But he rots.

Worry propels her feet forward, her feelings become her primary operation - a puzzle to solve, so much so that she doesn’t see a bright new character in the hallway pouring her coffee. She’s a student worker for the department offices. With her fresh cup of joe, she turns slightly to return to her desk. The professor bumps into her arm as she swiftly passes. Tweed jacket meets ceramic mug, then splash! with a short-lived steamy sizzle. The young girl dramatically sucks in air as the liquid burns her face and streams down her clothes.

“Oh god, I’m so sorry!” Professor clutches the girl’s shoulders, then her hands stumble over her to remove the mug from her grip. The girl stands there helplessly with her eyes shut tight breathing in and out her mouth.

“Oh geez, okay here’s a towel, take this,” Professor reaches in a drawer and removes a kitchen towel, places it in the girl’s hands. She wipes her face. Professor stays with her a few moments more to be sure she’s all right, though she very much is not. Finally, they part ways. This is the girl’s first impression of her English professor. It stays with her throughout each semester — she comes to understand the professor as simple-minded, obtuse, scattered.

The professor stews in her office, thinking unclean thoughts about the university’s administration and the coming age of artificial intelligence. A pile of research work rests peacefully in front of her; she knows there’s nothing new to be discovered within it.

She imagines her life on a timeline. On one end is human, on the other end is machine. She expects that her life will be plotted much nearer to the machine end.

The other professor returns, suddenly, and stops in the space of her open doorway. He holds a few sheets of paper in his hand. His eyes are white and round, taking her in as if she is not there. She hears him mumble something that she cannot interpret.

She stands and comes around her desk. “Sorry, I didn’t hear you. Come in! Are you all right?” “Oh yes, I —um. Well, I read this.” He moves to take a seat, refers to the papers in his hand, the same that had been placed on his desk minutes ago.

She takes the seat adjacent and leans forward since he is speaking very softly, a tone she hasn’t heard from him before. “Okay, I’m eager to hear your thoughts. I honestly wasn’t hopeful that you would,” the professor answers.

“You said it was like new myth, that was interesting.” He coughs and straightens. When he looks back at her, his eyeballs are swimming. “And it was interesting.”

The professor is bewildered into silence.

He begins an explanation again, slowly. “I think this made me believe again.” He chokes out these words quickly, then covers them with a forced chuckle.

The professors look at each other, both unsure how serious is the other, knowing in themselves their own quiet alarm and amazement.