Hayley's Factology Professor

The Professor

She let out another deep sigh, more from force of habit than from any real mental exhaustion, as she leaned back and stretched in her chair. Her Astrolabe spun its holo screens to adjust to her new position, ensuring she still had optimal view of her work. And it was a lot of work. Recently, cyber farms had begun churning frantically to provide space and security to Gagarin station, and that could only mean one thing: Hayley just had to make sure.

There had been a lot of All-Nighters needed to stay on track of the expansion, and she was convinced that when she was finished with all this, there would never be another can of Diesel delivered to her dorm. The taste lingered too long on the back of her throat, and reminded her of hazing parties and exams. Hayley shuddered. Stupid exams. They took up too much of her time, and there was precious little of it lately. She hadn't slept in 4 days, and the smell of overworked consoles didn't do much for her focus. With another drawn out sigh, she jacked back In and tried to find something else to distract her while the auto-scripts ran in the background.

A new Lethal Action movie was coming out soon, she considered giving that some attention. Although the local film critics weren't impressed, stupid movies full of explosions were always a good way to remember not to take things too seriously. Pop-ups soon began to appear at the corner of her eye, suggesting new drinks, pads and deep-space turtleback adventures. Hayley’s console automatically began shutting them down again, but a sparkle from one ad made her pause. ‘Who are you?’ it asked her, as eerie music drifted through nearby speakers. ‘Who am I not?’ she smiled to herself, thinking of the accounts linked to her IP address to avoid any traces back to her, and used a hand gesture to allow the ad to continue.

We live in an age of technological wonder Extended life Endless connections Limitless possibilities At the touch of a button In a fraction of a second The world’s knowledge at our fingertips A seemingly infinite source of answers To any question we might ask Except for one The one we thirst for The one that leads to understanding Our world Our choices Ourselves The question that lies at the intersection of technology and spirituality Who am I?

‘Huh.’ More than a little curious, she began to read more. Links and banners soon made it clear what was being shown to her. It was Factology. Chuckling, Hayley closed the advert down, and began to review the latest reports on her auto-scripts.

The next morning, as her Human / Clone Rights lecture drew to a close, Hayley began to pack up her belongings. A cough from behind her made her jump. Stupid all-nighters. Turning, she faced the dark eyes of her Professor. ‘Ms Kaplan.’ He smiled. ‘I'm sorry Professor, I've just been burning the wires lately. I wasn't expecting…’ ‘Say no more, my dear. Say no more. You never know who’s listening.’ Although clearly meant as a joke, Hayley noticed how he quickly glanced around the room, and extended his arm. ‘Perhaps there's somewhere a little more quiet we can talk?’ Nodding, she slung her pack over her shoulder as he began walking to his office, assuming she was close behind.

Hayley had never been in The Professor’s office before. Glancing at the walls, she recognised a plethora of trophies and certificates that reflected the years he had spent being one of the foremost experts in…well, everything. Photos showed him meeting and greeting activists, politicians, and…was that the Kati Jones? The Professor coughed to bring her attention back to him. ‘Ms Kaplan. Thank you so much for allowing me a private word. Don't worry, there's no trouble or anything.’ Hayley didn't realise she had been holding her breath until she sighed in relief. ‘That's good to know, Professor.’ ‘ Please, call me Yusef.’ ‘Uhm, thank you Yusef. Hayley.’ He nodded and turned to a nearby drinks cabinet, pouring out a clear liquid. ‘Water?’ He asked her. ‘Yes please. Thank you.’ He finished pouring two glasses, and after handing her one, raised his glass in salutation. ‘To…Notoriety.’ She smiled. ‘Notoriety.’ ‘Now! I'd like to ask you something, if I may, Hayley?’ She nodded, and took another sip. ‘Who are you?’ She spluttered on her water. ‘I'm sorry, Pro…Yusef?’ ‘Oh, don't worry. I don't expect you to have an answer, really. But I can tell by your reaction you know what I asked. Would you like me to repeat it?’ He sat behind his cluttered desk, and gestured for her to sit in the chair opposite. She hesitated for a moment, and sat down, glass still in hand. ‘I'm sorry to be blunt, but it's quite an important question, wouldn't you agree?’ She nodded again, confused as to why he used that phrase. Humming softly to himself, he began typing on the console in front of him, and the advert from the night before popped up on the holo screen to her left. The same pitch scrolled down the page in front of her, the same eerie music playing from the embedded speakers. ‘When you spent more than a few moments looking at this advert, I was notified. I'm what our religion would call…well, it would be easier if I showed you.’ With an enthusiastic step, he left the room into a side office labelled ‘Private’.

Hayley began to feel a sense of nervousness and dread. What was going on here? She considered just leaving the office, but didn't want to offend the Professor. He was well known in every circle on campus, and popular by all accounts. Should she pretend there's been an emergency, or…? He walked back into the room and Hayley gasped. The Professor had replaced his clothes with robes that suggested Indian design, but with colours and embossed stitching that reflected a gaudy wealth and dirty laundry at the same time. He wore a white and wild wig on his head, and a makeshift beard glued to his face, with string and clear pieces of glue flaking on the edges. The beard ended in a ridiculous plait, and already had begun to get caught up in the beads around his neck. The Professor was covering one eye with a contact to give it a milky look, and had used red ink to draw a scar through his eye brow and down onto his cheek. She couldn't help but laugh. ‘Have…have you considered Factology?’ He asked, clearly not receiving the response he had originally expected. Still laughing, she stood up. ‘I'm…I'm sorry Professor. I have to…have to go…’ She picked up her pack and ran out of the room, a louder laugh echoing from the other side of the door when she had left. ‘Oh.’ Yusef sighed. ‘Bugger.’