Home, to change

You stick with the plan to return home for a shower, a change of clothes and your lecture notes. As you give Julia directions, you have a moment of concern that the changes you've made with the Rulebook may mean that you don't live in the same place you remember, but when she pulls up and you dash out, promising to be quick, you find your keys work in the front door as usual.

You're about to run upstairs when you realize you're not alone. An attractive blonde in her mid twenties is standing in your hallway, dressed similarly to most of your students, although her sage green skirt is perhaps slightly longer than the norm, running to just above mid-thigh.

As soon as you wonder who she is, the information floods into your mind from the Rulebook: this is Susan, your most senior postdoc. Before you made the college women only, that position was held by a modest young man called Ashley who, as the saying goes, had much to be modest about. You've hardy had a chance to get acquainted with the woman standing in front of you, but simply from her appearance and confident demeanour, you consider her a vast improvement.

"Good morning, Professor," she says with a smile. "Imogen told me you might be out last night. It's nice to see you socializing for a change. Since you haven't had a chance to mark the essays from your intermediate students, I took the liberty of making some notes for you on the academic network. I hope that was alright. Also, the research group is getting on very well with the amendments you wanted to your monograph, so I'll let you know when we have it finalized and when the bibliography is complete."

"Right," you answer, slightly stunned by the avalanche of information coming your way. Before you found the Rulebook, your monograph was languishing in the limbo of procrastination, but it seems your new, improved graduate students have finished it for you. "Thank-you Susan. Er, how is your own work coming on?"

"Oh! Very well, thank-you for asking, Professor. I think I told you that I'd been accepted for publication? It's not due out until the December issue but after that I just have a few things to tidy up before I can really get stuck into the Katzenberger thing. It helps that our grads are such a dream team. My doctoral students are so competent that supervising them is a breeze, although that's probably why you chose to give them to me, right, Professor?"

You nod as though you remember doing exactly that. You wouldn't have trusted Ashley to supervise a doctoral candidate on his best day, but you always thought they needed quite a bit of hand-holding, so maybe you just have a better cadre of candidates now.

"I'd better get on, Susan. Julia—Dr. Morgan—is waiting in the car so she doesn't get a ticket."

"Of course, Professor. If you're taking a shower, would you like me to wash your back?"

You look at her sharply, but she returns your gaze with an air of innocence that persuades you her offer was devoid of any ulterior motive, so you simply shake your head and tell her that won't be necessary.

It only takes you five minutes to take a quick shower and another ten to dress and complete your other ablutions. When you return downstairs, you find Susan has collected your discarded clothing and put it ready to wash when you have a full load. As she hands you your notes for today's lecture, a thought crosses your mind and you act on it.

"Susan, are you coming to campus after you've finished here?"

"Yes, Professor, I'm ready to leave right now, in fact."

"Would you like a lift with us?"

"Oh, that's very generous, Professor; I wouldn't want to impose…"

"If Dr. Morgan is happy to take you…"

"Well, that would be very nice, yes, thank-you, Professor."

It turns out that Julia is very happy to give Susan a lift and they talk shop throughout the short journey, meaning that you don't have to contribute much to the conversation and can relax until you reach the campus car park closest to the lecture theatres. Susan disappears off to the office your research group occupies and you share a circumspectly intimate farewell with Julia. You don't want to be seen snogging openly, but you hand lingers on hers a shade longer that necessary while you say goodbye and you promise to arrange another meeting as soon as possible—you're still not calling it a date out loud.

You head into separate lecture theatres at the same time as the previous group of students is leaving. You make your way to the stage and get set up whilst the previous lecturer cleans his notes off the blackboards, which flank the giant interactive projection screen operated by the computer under the dais, a quaint juxtaposition of the traditional and cutting-edge. You place your notes side by side on the three lecterns and check that the correct media are loaded into your workspace on the university server, then quickly skim through the notes to prepare for the lecture. You could do the whole thing digitally, but you find it easier to follow if all the notes are laid out together on paper rather than a computer screen.

The quieting of the general hum indicates that the students have finished filing into the hall and are ready for you to begin.