Katy paused outside room 312 and took a deep breath. It had become a part of her ritual in this class. She needed to steel her nerves, prepare her mind, and tell herself, "You're halfway through the semester! You can do it!" It wasn't the course, which Katy was convinced she understood. It wasn't the time of day, as on Tuesdays and Thursdays she actually woke up later than normal. It was just the professor.
Katy let out the breath and stepped into the room. Immediately, Professor Reiker's eyes lifted from his desk. The old man seemed to be hyper-aware of when a girl entered his room and Katy wasn't sure if this was especially true for her or if she was just more aware of it. Despite the thick, non-fitted sweater and plain, non-fitted jeans that Katy had taken to wearing to this class, Reiker's eyes still perused her body, hunting for curves that Katy had tried her best to hide. Admittedly, when a girl has a certain level of endowment in her chest--like Katy--it can be a little harder to hide.
She walked quickly, trying not to notice the prying eyes of the teacher. She sat in her desk, kept her knees together, and opened her laptop. After several seconds, another girl entered the room and Reiker's eyes started tracking her instead, giving Katy reprieve.
Katy shuddered. The man looked vaguely like Vulture--the Spider-Man villain and not the Michael Keaton version. He was balding, lurching, and had a nose that seemed to hook outward. The fact that Reiker taught a senior course--therefore technically had all students older than 18--didn't make it any less creepy for him to be ogling girls over half his age. Katy found him repulsive. This class was easily the worst parts of her week. She had it on Tuesday and Thursday. Today was Tuesday, which meant she even had to endure it again before the weekend.
What made the situation even worse, however, was that it was at risk of ruining her GPA. Reiker seemed to be a hard ass on grading. He frequently found faults in what Katy considered to be perfect work. When confronted, he would try to use big words and convoluted logic to explain why Katy was wrong, but Katy wasn't a dumb girl. She could tell that he was bullshitting her. She was passing the class, but it could put her at risk of not making the Dean's List this quarter. Katy might not have minded so much if it was legitimate, but the fact that he seemed to have it out for Katy was not an acceptable reason to ruin a track record.
In the more recent paper, Katy had gone above and beyond. She was supposed to select a famous scientologist, analyze their life and work, and pay special attention to their motivations. Katy had written about Marie Curie. She had spent an entire weekend on the project, citing twice as many articles as the minimum and reading two different books from start to finish. Her paper was succinct, comprehensive, and beautiful. She had even sat with her friend Joey--who was studying literature--and proofed every sentence individually. Joey had been a good sport, helping her polish the paper through from start to finish three separate times over the course of four hours. She had bought him dinner as a thank-you.
It was happy coincidence that Reiker had graded those papers over the weekend. He started class by passing them back to the students. Katy noticed that several girls put hands on their chest to prevent cleavage when he passed by their desks. Katy's thick sweater--although getting difficult to deal with in the warm room--prevented that necessity.
Reiker finally gave her back her own paper. In large, red sharpie across the top was the letter "C". Beneath that, Reiker had written, "Your conclusions were obvious and uninspired."
Katy felt rage boil inside her like a white hot furnace. What was it with this old coot? Why did he have it out for her so badly? Her hands curled around her chest and she clenched her jaw hard, trying to prevent her rage from becoming audible. She fumed similarly through most of the class period, which Katy personally thought was taught in an "obvious and uninspired" manner.
Finally, at the end of the class, as students filed quickly out of the room, Katy took a deep breath and approached Reiker's desk.
"Hello Professor," Katy said, doing her best to sound pleasant. "I was hoping to talk about my paper."
"Yes, I was surprised, Katy," Reiker said. "I expected a little more effort from you." Katy clenched her jaw and forbid herself from speaking, lest she saw something to make the situation unrecoverable. Reiker was packing his bag, so her silence was apparently not very obvious.
Finally, after steeling her rage back, Katy said, "I think there might be a mistake. I think if you look again, you'll see I was very thorough and..."
"As I made clear on syllabus day, my gradings are final," Reiker said. His bag packed, he turned his attention to Katy. Katy resisted the urge to place her bag in front of her own body. His eyes clearly and obviously dropped down to seek her curves once more.
"But if you're concerned about your grade in my course, I do offer extra credit to participants of academic research," Reiker said. "As it happens, there is a study tonight."
Katy had planned on binging a new season of her favorite show that had just dropped online, but she quietly let that dream of relaxation fade in her mind. "What's the study?"
"It's just a study on the effects of various forms of advertising," Reiker said. "I just had a cancelation from another student for the seven to eight slot. Should I pencil you in?"
Katy pursed her lips, took another deep breath--this was a common coping tactic around Reiker--and nodded her head. Katy told herself to bite the bullet and get the grade.
"Excellent," Reiker said. "It's this room. Be there at seven sharp."
As Katy left the room, she sent a text to Joey: "The Bird shit on my paper."
Joey responded with a frowning face, then another text: "I can shit on his car if you want." Katy smiled, despite herself. The joke was "obvious and uninspired", but Katy half believed that Joey would do it if she needed him to.
Katy wasn't excited about participating in some advertising study, but if it was going to help save her grade and her Dean's List track run, then she would do it. It would be like ripping off a band aid.
---
Katy never liked being in school buildings after hours. It felt creepy and haunted. Not for the first time today, Katy wished she was at home binging her TV show instead of here tonight. Katy steeled herself and marched down the halls, whose shadows seemed to be a lot deeper after the sun set.
Katy arrived early, with plans to study for an upcoming history test while she waited for the previous participant in the study to finish. Oddly, Reiker was alone in room 312 when Katy arrived.
"Oh, you're here early," Reiker said, welcoming Katy inside. Katy had maintained her layers since last seeing the professor, but Reiker's eyes still leered nonetheless.
"I thought 7PM was the only opening," Katy said. "Where is the participant before me?"
"She had to back out suddenly," Reiker said. Katy noticed that nobody seemed to want to participate in this experiment. She looked around the room and found no one else. The projector mounted on the ceiling was turned on, but showing a blue screen.
"Whose study is this?" Katy asked. Normally, students working on grad projects would use college students as guinea pigs.
"Oh, this is mine, actually," Reiker said. His voice was dripping with pride. "I've been working on a project for several years. I think it's finally ready to test."
"What do I do?" Katy asked. She was eager to get out of the room and back to the safety of her dorm.
"Just sit here," Reiker said, patting a desk in the front row. "I'm going to play several commercial clips. Just pay very close attention. I will replay them again later, but with minor changes. I will ask you what changed between the commercials."
"Alright," Katy nodded. She sat in the desk, knees together. Reiker stepped to the computer, pressed a button, and quickly hurried out of the room. He closed the door behind him.
Katy focused on the screen. The projector began playing a Coke commercial. Katy tried to take note of the individual elements of the commercial, lest they change later. The woman was wearing a red shirt. The glass she drank from was clear and full of ice. The final product display had Coke in the center, cherry on the right, and diet on the left. Katy tried to commit all of this to memory.
As the commercial faded to black, for just a moment Katy thought she saw a flash of something else. Was that writing? Or a swirling shape? Before she had time to reconcile the flash, another commercial came on.
This was a movie trailer. Katy focused on the voiceover. She took note of the order of the scenes she saw. The music. How the actor's names were written.
Was that another flash? This one between clips? Katy was sure she saw something.
The commercial continued. Katy was growing tired. Trying to keep focused on so much all at once was mentally exhausting.
The third commercial was a prescription drug commercial. Katy tried to tell herself to remember the name of the pills, because she suspected that would be an easy switch to make when they were re-run, but she was drowsy. That flashing of the screen kept happening, but Katy was alarmed less and less each time. In fact, it was rather calming.
Katy thought the fourth commercial was for an exercise machine, but she couldn't quite be sure. The world seemed farther away now.
Katy didn't know if she was bored or tired or even awake at all. For a moment, she thought that she might not be watching a commercial at all, but a swirling on the screen and calm, cool directions being given by a powerful, manly voice from the speakers. She drifted in and then back out. She got the impression that she might be listening to instructions, but she didn't know what.
Words seem to stick out to her. Service. Submission. Obedience.
The images on the screen alternated between swirling and pictures of people. Some part of Katy, deep inside and far from any connection to the outside, was alarmed by the images on the screen. It felt wrong in a way that she couldn't put a finger on. Were those... naked people? The swirling returned before Katy's mind could fully comprehend what she was seeing.
More instructions. More words. Tits. Suck. Fuck.
Katy was pretty sure that at some point she started watching commercials again. Victoria's Secret, perhaps? There were images of lingerie on the screen and Katy was feeling a sudden, very powerful urge to wear those frilly, lacey things on the screen. She wanted to look good. She wanted to be on display. She wanted to be... alluring? Was that the word?
