Harper's stomach was churning with vicious anxiety as she sat at the back of the crowded lecture theater, waiting for Professor Elbourne's lecture to end whilst hoping it wouldn't so that she would have longer to prepare herself. It was nearing the end of the day, and as the light outside was starting to dim, most students were slumping in their seats or yawning conspicuously. Harper was the only one who seemed to be fully alert. Like the students around her, though, she wasn't really paying attention to what Professor Elbourne was saying.
She was entirely focused on the task at hand: interrogating the professor. She'd been putting it off for far too long, hoping that other avenues of investigation would finally bear fruit. But finally, Harper had felt forced to admit that hours of googling and trawling through hopeless internet forums didn't really count as investigation. She'd had to acknowledge that while she'd been telling herself she was putting off talking to Professor Elbourne because it was dangerous and because it made sense to spend time preparing beforehand, really she'd just been putting it off because she was scared. Harper wasn't used to being scared. She'd been feeling that way more and more often recently, however, and that was exactly what had spurred her to action.
She was scared of Lori, as much as it pained her to admit it. Her roommate had changed. It was subtle, but it seemed to be growing over time, and it was setting Harper's nerves on edge constantly. Lori, usually so anxious and unsure, was calmer and more assured than ever. Harper would have been happy for her, but there was something else too. Lori seemed distant and cold, and she was always looking at Harper as if she knew something Harper didn't. She was completely disinterested in talking to Harper about anything, especially her investigations into the mystery of their dronification.
She was spending more and more time with her friends, Sally and Madison, but while once that would have been reassuring, now the three of them unnerved Harper more than almost anything. They were perfectly in sync with another, to an unnatural degree. They had hushed conversations that stopped Harper entered the room, whereupon they looked at her silently with expressions that were somehow both blank and expectant. The trio chillingly reminded Harper of a set of Stepford wives.
But even that wasn't the worst thing. The worst thing were the gaps in Harper's memory. They were more of them each time she looked back and tried to piece things together, and while she couldn't prove it, she suspected they had something to do with Lori. Too often, the gaps were preceded by Lori entering her room, or followed by Lori's scent hanging around Harper a little too intimately. Each time, Harper was left confused, and stuck with the unshakeable feeling that she'd been on the cusp of some kind of earthshattering revelation, only to have it robbed from her. It was all becoming too much. Harper could feel herself becoming paranoid and worse. She couldn't take it anymore. She had to do something, even if it was something risky. She couldn't keep living in limbo.
And then there was Jae. Harper had neither seen nor heard from them in the week since they'd ran out on her and Lori, despite her best efforts to get in touch. That worried her too. She didn't know what state of mind Jae was in, or what they might do. Harper rubbed her temples. She didn't know how to handle this kind of stress.
"OK, class," Professor Elbourne suddenly announced, from the front of the lecture theater. "I think we can call it a day here. I can see some of you are eager to get home to your beds, or whatever else you might have planned for your evenings." The willowy professor smiled a thin smile. "Chapters twelve and thirteen from the textbook, before next week. Don't forget."
There was a smattering of applause from the gathered students, along with more than a few sighs of relief. All around her, students were packing their bags and rising to their feet, eager to leave. Harper found herself strangely uncomfortable, with people milling all around her on their way to the door. She realized it had been weeks since she'd been in a room with that many people. Harper blinked. She couldn't believe she'd only just realized that. Harper sighed. She was even more messed up than she'd thought. As the students filed out, Harper took note of Professor Elbourne's teaching assistant, Amia Grover, leaving too. That was good. She wanted the professor alone, at least at first. But she needed to find a way to talk to Amia later, if things didn't pan out with Professor Elbourne. According to Lori, Amia had been there the very first day Lori had discovered her secret dronification. She might have had something to do with it.
Once the lecture theater had emptied, it was Harper's turn to stand up. Hesitantly, she started making her way down to the front of the room, where Professor Elbourne was sat at her desk, looking at something on her computer. Just as Harper was contemplating exactly what she was going to say, Professor Elbourne raised her head to look at her. "Miss Williams, it's a pleasure to have you with us - for once. It's been a while since I've seen you in my class," she said pointedly.
Despite herself, Harper blushed, flustered. She hadn't realized Professor Elbourne so much as knew her name. "Oh, um, sorry. I've been... uh..."
"You can save the excuses." Professor Elbourne sniffed. "If you don't think you need to be here, well, I'm sure your final grade will reflect that. One way, or the other. Now, what can I do for you?"
Harper suddenly realized that if Professor Elbourne really was responsible for everything she and Lori had been through, it would make perfect sense that she knew her name. That realization crystallized her resolve. "I had some questions, actually. Academic questions."
"Oh?" Professor Elbourne raised an eyebrow haughtily, but for the first time Harper got the sense she was actually paying attention to what she was saying. "Well, in that case I'm happy to assist. Ask."
Harper found herself taken aback by the professor's cool, blunt manner. Even before everything had started going wrong, she'd only attended Professor Elbourne's class a handful of times. Attendance wasn't her strong suit. As a result, she'd never had a conversation with her. She'd never even seen Professor Elbourne up close and personal before. The professor looked every inch the perfect professional academic. She was wearing flats, slim-cut pants, and a pretty, green blouse with a long lab coat on top. Her piercing eyes were framed by large, circular glasses, and her dark brown hair was tied back neatly in a ponytail. Harper knew from her research that the professor was in her late thirties, but she was certainly wearing her age well. Her sharp cheekbones and precise, clipped manner of speech lent her a matronly, almost aristocratic air. Despite Harper's intentions, it was difficult for her not to see the professor as a figure of authority; someone to be deferred to. She certainly spoke like she expected people to listen. Harper did her best to shrug off the impression. She needed a clear head if she was going to do what she'd came here to do.
"It's not exactly about the class material," Harper began carefully. "It's a bit more... abstract, you might say. Underpinning a lot of what you've talked about in computer science is a lot of really basic theorizing about things like programming languages, how computers execute programs, order of operations, following subroutines... stuff like that. How computers think, you might say."
"Where is this going?" Professor Elbourne sounded genuinely curious, rather than impatient.
"I suppose I was wondering, professor," Harper continued, her nervousness growing. "What if you were to apply that paradigm to things that aren't computers? Animals. Or... maybe even humans?"
Professor Elbourne stared at her quizzically. "That's a very strange question, Miss Williams. Where is this coming from?"
"Oh, um..." Harper could feel herself starting to sweat already. "It's just a thought I had, I guess."
"Well, it's funny you should ask about that," Professor Elbourne replied. "As a matter of fact, I once co-authored a paper on that very subject."
"I know," Harper told her. "I've read it."
"You have?" For the first time in their conversation, Professor Elbourne seemed genuinely surprised.
"Yeah." Harper was suddenly wondering if it had been such a good idea to reveal that. "But there were a few things I wanted to ask about."
"Perhaps I misjudged you, Miss Williams." Professor Elbourne's penetrating eyes seemed to be staring right through Harper. It was a struggle for her not to shrink from her gaze. "By all means, ask away. I always welcome stimulating conversation."
"OK." Harper took a deep breath. She wasn't sure if Professor Elbourne was on to her yet, but she had to press on nonetheless. "Your paper was all theoretical, right? But I guess what I was wondering was: what if you tried that out for real?"
Professor Elbourne sharply raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"
"Just... for the sake of argument," Harper pressed, her mouth suddenly dry. "Let's imagine you really wanted to, um, make someone like that. Make them think like a computer, instead of a person. How exactly would you go about trying to do that?"
Professor Elbourne seemed momentarily stunned. It could have been the sheer strangeness of the question, but Harper didn't think so. There was something in the professor's face; a hairline fracture in that otherwise-perfect composure. It was only there for an instant, but it set Harper's heart pounding. All of a sudden, she was filled with conviction. Professor Elbourne knew something.
"I... I don't see how such a thing could ever be possible," Professor Elbourne finally answered, her face passing quickly through a number of expressions. "Miss Williams, you must understand, that paper was purely theoretical in nature. It was a matter of pure academic, philosophical interest to consider-"
"But," Harper interrupted, unable to contain her zeal. "What if? There's all kinds of possibilities out there for altered mental states, right? Brain injuries, mental illnesses, unusual education, drugs... or perhaps even something like hypnosis?"
"Hypnosis?" Professor Elbourne repeated, shocked. Her eyes were wide.
"Hypnosis," Harper repeated gravely. "Tell me, professor, what do you think someone would be like if you did that to them? Your paper didn't really talk about that." It was all spilling out of Harper now, her eagerness to see Professor Elbourne squirm overwhelming her sense of caution. "Would they feel anything? Remember anything? A computer doesn't really do those things like a person does, right? It just obeys. Would they even have a sense of self? Would they need a name? Maybe just a number. Would they still qualify as a person? Perhaps they'd be just a mindless, obedient... drone."
After Harper finished her barrage of questions, silence hung in the air. Professor Elbourne looked affronted and astonished in equal measure. Harper was searching her face desperately, praying that the professor would crack and spill her secrets. But unfortunately, a few tense seconds later, composure returned to the professor's face. She coughed slightly and straightened her back.
"You are talking nonsense, Miss Williams," she said, deflating Harper. She rose to her feet, and Harper was suddenly conscious of the fact that the professor towered over her imposingly. Professor Elbourne fixed Harper with a deathly glare. "I'm pleased to see you've taken an interest in my field, but you must rid yourself of some of these outlandish ideas if you expect to be taken seriously by anyone - including me. I can see you're quite... excitable. But that does not excuse rudeness, or wasting my time. I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to leave."
Harper met her glare evenly for a long moment, contemplating everything she could do. It was so tempting to call the professor out as a liar, right to her face. Harper was utterly certain Professor Elbourne was hiding something. But then she remembered what Professor Elbourne might be able to do, if she truly was responsible for her plight. She'd probably already tipped her hand, but she wasn't ready for an open confrontation - not yet. So, as much as it pained her to do so, Harper plastered a sickly-sweet smile on her face.
"Oh, I'm so sorry! I just got carried away." Harper turned and started walking away, heading for the door as fast as she could without breaking into a run. "I'll see you again soon, professor."
