Thread: The Hourglass Archives [ Ariamella & jvj9000 ]

RE PROJECT B-17 Ariamella jvj9000 ...that physical anthropology, the actual study of actual things was essential to understanding or even just guessing what life was like for prehistoric man. And I mean that in the technical sense man before a historical record or even the people about whom we have a spotty or incomplete record. And it really was just guessing. Look. The man at the front of the room looked younger than some of the students, but he certainly carried himself like a professor. And dressed like one. Dr. Caleb Martensen was only 33, which was in fact younger than two students in the room, but the tweediness of his suit and the obvious knowledge as he held forth at the front of the room went a long way toward establishing his position. Nobody ought to be willing to wear those shades of brown together unless they were -- consciously or not -- trying to seem like a college professor right out of central casting. He pushed a button on the small remote in his hand and an image came into focus. It was a three-dimensional model, rotating slowly, a larger-than-life rendering of... something. It was vaguely spherical with a dip in one end and a protuberance from the other. So what's this? He waited a moment, long enough to let the room think he was maybe not asking rhetorically. No, seriously, what the hell is this thing? Any guesses? Silence. Well, Juliette Wilson said it was a crude fertility goddess, an object of worship... The image rotated so that maybe, just maybe, if you squinted hard and really insisted on it being woman-shaped, maybe it was. While Lladislav Calpursky was at least as certain that it was used to smoke a hallucinatory herb for ritual magic. Here the object rotated again and some crudely rendered 'smoke' appeared above the dip. And Nigel Tudor thought it was a sort of hand shovel. He pushed the button and the image faded away, breaking down into lines before the lines fell apart and vanished. Guesses. He shrugged. Nobody knows. He smiled as he walked back toward the desk in the middle of the room and looked down at his watch. The smile vanished. Time was short -- he'd gone long again. The point is that the problem of context is one that gradually fades. The problem we're going to encounter in this course is actually the opposite one. It's not so much a matter of speculating about what this object was or wasn't when we study the 19th and 20th centuries but of trying to settle which voice, which object and what it says to us about life and history, we're going to listen to. He pushed a hand through his brown hair, and it decided, apparently all on its own, to simply keep standing up after his hand was gone, thank you very much. But that's next week, we're out of time. Check the syllabus, we're going to talk about espionage and the cold war a little, about Pearl Harbor, and introduce the independent projects. The room got a bit louder as people began to slide books off desks and open backpacks. He, consequently, raised his voice to something like a shout, So start thinking about your topics! And then, more quietly, see you next week. And with that the room was lost to the noise of students rushing to... whatever they were going to do. Maybe they're all going to the library to start researching their projects he thought. And then he chuckled because that idea was obviously a joke. More because it was early in the term, really, though. Caleb had basically lived in the library as a graduate student and even he would've been at a bar this early in the semester. In fact, he might opt to visit a bar this early in the semester himself. One of the positive aspects of having failed to get through half his lecture today was that he had at least half his lecture ready for the next class already. He tucked his notes into his bag brown, of course. Caleb was committed to a theme and slung it over his shoulder. He was just about to head out, maybe follow the stream of students and see if it led him to a place with a decent stout, when the very last student demanded his attention. Miss... Kensington. There was almost a question there. Stephanie Kensington was easy to remember, but Caleb was terrible with names. More, he felt vaguely guilty when he employed his method of learning students names when those students happened to be pretty women. Associating a face with a name and focusing on the two felt strangely trangressive when it meant staring at or imagining his more attractive female students, even when it was entirely proper. He hoped that didn't come across too clearly in person, though -- a fear that was probably unfounded since he usually got too lost in the topic at hand to seem to pay much attention to the women themselves. Oh, is this the... may I? He took the brochure from her hand and scanned it quickly. Hmm... I'd been under the impression this was more of a virtual reality sort of thing. Some kind of immersive amusement park ride, but this seems like a horse of a different color... He trailed off as he read a bit more and then finally tore his eyes away from the page and looked at her. And then another pause and he tore his eyes back, because he got the impression he was staring at her now, which was probably more rude than staring at the brochure. You were right about that. Now that I know what it is, I'm extremely glad you were chosen. Can I rely on you to let me know what it's like? If the promise here, he closed the brochure and held it out toward her to return it, is met at all, it will be of tremendous interest. It might be an opportunity for a unique and potentially important independent project, as well. He felt as if he ought to say more... as if he wanted suddenly to learn even more about it. In fact, Caleb felt more than a little jealous. Not that this project could possibly be what it promised to be, but still, what if...? He forced a smile as he reasoned that he'd never have time for such pursuits anyway. Does this mean you'll be able to experience the... the experience, I guess... or are there other hoops to jump through before you're able to... erm... experience it?