Vell Harlan and the Doomsday Dorms

“So, as one can see in diagram A, replicating a simple computational task requires as many as one-hundred and seventy eight runes working in tandem,” Professor Nguyen said. “While runic systems allow a small bridge in the gap between magic and machinery, they cannot replace the more complex processes of advanced computers, for the time being. Starting tomorrow we will be researching the works of Dr. Grigorakis and his research on runic computers.”

Vell actually paid attention to the lecture for once, since he actually had something worth listening to. His curiosity about the rune on his back had already driven him to research a great deal of information on runes, so most lectures were just reruns of things he already knew. Professor Nguyen was one of the few teachers who actually brought him new info on a regular basis. The overlap of magic and machines made possible by runes was not usually in his wheelhouse, since he was focused on one very complex rune rather than a bunch of runes working together.

“I’ll expect a two-page essay on this week’s material by next Wednesday, however, it will not be on the test. Dismissed,” Nguyen said. They had a few minutes left before the official end of class, but Professor Nguyen had nothing left to say. To most of the class, at least. “Mr. Harlan, if I could have a word with you before you go.”

Vell shouldered his bag and lingered behind as the rest of the class left the room. Joan lingered by the door, ostensibly to wait for her boyfriend, but actually just to eavesdrop. Vell wandered up to the desk as Nguyen set herself on some paperwork, never looking up from the documents as she spoke to Vell.

“Thank you for your time, Mr. Harlan,” Professor Nguyen said. Then, without stopping her paperwork, Nguyen lifted up a diagram from her desk with her spare hand and displayed it to Vell. A sequence of five runes, with empty spaces for more, were laid out on the paper. “Could you identify the next runes necessary for this sequence, with the goal of inducing stable cellular division in living tissue.”

“Well, let’s see...split, duplicate, heal,” Vell said, listing off a few of the run effects already laid out. He paused to put a hand on his chin for a moment and think. “Ah. I think you need something to induce stable variance. An “alter” rune followed up by a template-parameter sequence, to ensure the cell mutates enough for necessary genetic diversity, but not enough to cause, uh, cancer. Which I assume you don’t want to do.”

“You assume correctly,” Nguyen said. She put the paper down and briefly stopped her own paperwork long enough to make a few notes on it, in accordance with Vell’s suggestions. “Thank you for your input, Mr. Harlan, I will include your contributions in the citations of the resulting paper, or we will discuss partial co-authorship if your sequence proves successful.”

“Uh, what?”

“Myself and several of my fellow researchers have been attempting to complete this sequence for some time,” Nguyen explained. “I thought to get your input, given your grades in my class.”

“You know,” Joan said, from across the room. “I have an idea too.”

“That will not be necessary, Ms. Marsh,” Nguyen said. She made a few more notes on her paperwork as Joan marched up to her desk.

“My grades are just as good as Vell’s,” Joan protested.

“Not consistently.”.

“Well that’s just how it goes,” Joan said. “We have that kind of friendly rivalry, where he beats me, and then I try a little harder, then I beat him, and he tries a little harder, and so on and so forth.”

“Is that what we’re doing?” Vell asked.

“Yes,” Joan said.

“Huh. I’ve just been trying, uh, the normal amount.”

“Why?”

“Because why would I be competing with my girlfriend? Who does that?”

“Please continue this particular discussion elsewhere. You are distracting me,” Nguyen droned. She still hadn’t looked up from her paperwork. The reminder of her presence served to get Joan back on the right outrage track.

“No, I can contribute to this project, and I should have the chance to,” Joan said. “Why would you want Vell but not me?”

Joan bent at the waist and leaned forward, looming over Nguyen’s desk. In response, Professor Nguyen put her pen down and looked up from her paperwork, glaring right at Joan. Vell could feel the edge of her cutting glare, even standing at the sidelines of the stare-down.

“For starters, Ms. Marsh, your partner has a healthier respect for personal space,” Nguyen began. Joan drew back a few inches, earning a grateful nod from the professor.

“Secondly, Mr. Harlan has demonstrated a much greater aptitude for problem-solving and extrapolating from incomplete information, on the rare occasions when he can get his head out of the clouds,” Dr. Nguyen said. Vell couldn’t argue with that. His responsibilities with the daily apocalypses, and his own fixation with researching the rune on his back, often made him seem a bit scatterbrained to the casual observer.

“You, on the other hand, exclusively possess an aptitude for rote memorization and fact repetition,” Dr. Nguyen said. “An admirable skill in some situations, but useless in this one. I trust this is a satisfactory explanation of the circumstances. Good day.”

With her rebuke delivered, Nguyen picked up her pen and got back to her paperwork. Meanwhile, Joan’s face jumped through seven different varieties of indignation.

“Is this how you talk to all your students?’

With the swift, fluid motions of a routine played out a hundred times, Nguyen snatched a business card from a drawer of her desk. Printed below the numbers for the student complaint hotline and the school’s therapist was the word “YES”, written in bold print. Joan stared at the card for a moment and then tossed it right back at Nguyen.

The professor effortlessly caught the thin scrap of paper between her fingers and tucked it back into the drawer before going right back to her paperwork. She hadn’t looked up even once. Joan made a show of grabbing Vell by the wrist and dragging him out of the room.

“I was not expecting Nguyen to be that much of a hard-ass,” Vell said. She’d always been stern, but outright calling a student ‘useless’ to their face was a bit much.

“God, I know, right?” Joan said. “And that stupid trick with the card. Show off.”

“I don’t know, I thought it was cool.”

Joan mumbled “I guess” under her breath and then crossed her arms in a huff, a position she stayed in for most of their walk back to the dorms.

“Joan.”

“Okay, I admit it, the card thing was super cool and I want to learn how to do it,” Joan said.

“I figured,” Vell said. “Luke has a deck we can borrow.”

Several hours and some hurt wrists later, neither of the two were even halfway decent at catching cards. Both agreed never to speak of the matter again.