Text perfect, Theo thought with relief, right out of the first lesson.
Professor Appletorn rocked back on his heels, thumbs hooked into the pockets of his coveralls.
"Indeed," he said softly. "And what avenues are open to the study of an advertent scholar..." He paused, then stabbed out with a fleshy forefinger. "...Miss Tibbets?"
Theo frowned. Another of her teammates, not as stolid or as solid as Estan. Sometimes Anj was there, and sometimes – she wasn't.
This morning, though, she was home and answering her mail.
"The avenues of study open to the advertent scholar," she said crisply, "are: text, eyewitness, and primary source."
"Images?" Professor Appletorn asked, almost mildly.
"Images require an exacting level of observation and consideration, because they're so easy to manipulate. Primary source images, or those documented in the texts and which have provenance, are preferred, but even then the careful scholar will seek corroboration in another study-set."
Their instructor nodded in silent agreement, lips pursed, then jerked his head toward row three, toward...
"And what, Miss Waitley," he snapped, "do we say of the scholar who depends solely on primary sources, and shuns the validation of the texts?"
Theo blinked, and stupidly, the first thing she thought was that Professor Appletorn was targeting their Team, singling them out one by one.
"Well, Miss Waitley? Have you none of your priceless pearls to cast before us this morning?"
He wasn't just in a bad mood, Theo thought, he was angry. She took a breath, her fingers touching the keys of her school book, sending the link into the Learning Group even as she looked up into his big square face.
"Sir, I propose a textual validation as a starting point for forming an understanding of such a scholar." Her voice was cool and crisp, more like her mother's than her own. "I cite the paper published by Professor Monit Appletorn, an Acknowledged Authority in the field of research dynamics. Professor Appletorn tells us that those who seek out the treasure of the primary source are the most dedicated of scholars, instant Authorities, whose work validates the work of all those who come after."
Silence. Theo, watching the color drain out of his face, wondered if he was going to faint.
"Am I to understand, Miss Waitley," Professor Appletorn said, and his voice wasn't sharp, now; it was soft, almost a whisper. "Am I to understand that you have read and given consideration to this paper?"
"Yes, sir," Theo said, which was nothing less than the truth. Kamele would ground her for a month if she heard Theo claiming credit for research she hadn't done.
"Have you?" Professor Appletorn whispered. "Why?"
Why? Theo blinked at him in amazement.
"I am waiting, Miss Waitley." His voice was stronger again, and Theo took a breath to steady herself before answering.
"I was doing my preliminary research for the course," she said slowly, trying to figure out how she'd managed to make him even madder; "and your paper was cited in several of the texts. I – it was only what an advertent scholar would do, to pull up and read the paper."
"I see." The silence stretched thin and cool while he stared at her. "You are either very stupid or very clever, Miss Waitley." He said her name as if it tasted bad! He turned his head suddenly. "Which is she, Miss Grinmordi?"
Lesset actually twitched, her mouth forming a perfect O. Her voice was surprisingly strong at first, then faded suddenly away – "I, she, well... evidently..." There was a pause, as if words – never her firmest friends – failed her. She threw Theo a helpless look and then looked back to their professor.
"It, um, depends..." she stammered finally.
The whole class held its breath.
Professor Appletorn seemed to... deflate. Not that he became less angry, Theo thought, but that his anger had used up more energy than he had available.
He sighed.
"That is correct, Miss Grinmordi," he said temperately. "Evidently, it depends. We do not yet have sufficient data to make a determination."
He turned and walked to the front of the room, putting his hand on the control for the autoboard, just as someone's unmuted mumu chimed the first eighth of the hour.
Uncharacteristically, Professor Appletorn ignored the sound, apparently giving the autoboard his whole attention.
"Simon Joniger," he said, finally naming somebody who wasn't one of Theo's teammates. "Please share your links for our last study assignment."
* * * *
The rest of the seminar had been interminable, the students' mood not improved by the amount of solo work "for next time" in addition to that outlined in the syllabus. At the end of the session, the two Teams escaped as a group, silently, with only an exchange of glances in which relief and puzzlement were equally mixed.
Theo had to hurry to catch up with one of the victims, who was walking head down, eyes down, and at a dangerous clip.
"Phew. Lessie..." Theo ventured, finally gaining her friend's scowling attention.
"You see?" Lesset moaned as they got on the belt to the maths hall together. "I can't think when he snarls at me like that. My mind goes blank and I just want to be someplace else – "
"But you did fine!" Theo protested. Lesset blinked.
"I did? But he was so angry..."
"He was angry at all of us," Theo said, then shook her head. "No, he was mad when he came to class. Something must've happened before – the reason he was late, maybe. And he was trying to rattle us – specifically us, our Team." Which was, she thought, weird. What could Four Team Three have done to make Professor Appletorn so mad?
"But you said I did fine?" Lesset persisted. "How?"
Theo sighed.
"It depends was the right answer," she said. "It was correct, exactly the thing an advertent scholar would have said." She gave Lesset a smile. "I wonder how much data you have to have to decide that somebody's a nidj?"
But Lesset was off in another direction, looking vacantly at the walls and people sliding by for a moment before gathering together another question.
"Did you really read that paper? The one you cited?"
Theo turned to stare at her. "I said so, didn't I?"
Her friend lifted a placating hand. "You did, and I know you wouldn't ever lie about your research. It's just – why?"
"Because Professor Appletorn's an Acknowledged Authority," Theo said patiently, "and I kept coming across cites to his paper when I was scanning the prelim lit. Reading one more paper wasn't that hard."
"Fact?" Lesset obviously had her doubts.
"Fact," Theo said firmly, and, noticing that her friend still looked tense, tried a joke. "See what you could be reading instead of The Faq?"
"Oh!" Lesset's face went white, then red. "Oh!" she cried again. "That's just – antisocial!"
"Wait!" Theo held up her hand. "It was supposed to be funny – "
"To you, maybe! But I don't think it's funny to be laughed at." She took a deep, furious breath, and turned to walk away – or tried to, her upset making her oblivious to the direction of the belt's travel.
The ultra-safe, grippy surface of the belt would have assisted her flight, if she'd been properly balanced. Unfortunately, Lesset had thrown her weight at an angle to the direction they were traveling in, heedless of inertia. The resulting resistance knocked her off-balance; she staggered, her bag swinging forward over her shoulder, unbalancing her even more.