The Scientific Method: Top-Down
"Congratulations-- you're now in the program."
He shook his hand.
"Thank you."
"Don't thank me. You've earned it."
"I've earned starting in."
"That's right."
And with that he left.
He signed some paperwork.
Back to research.
As he strolled through the halls, there were always looks. He knew they meant something, but always seemed to have something better to do than to figure them out. He knew whatever it was, it didn't really matter.
Except today.
Irrationality. They are reveling in the emotions of their irrationality.
He stopped.
Like a center supporting column in the middle of the hallway, tall, thin, and lab coat wrapped around Tray like it was his marble finish.
He felt it today. He was part of the ivory tower.
And from far away, it seemed to be so quite literally.
He knew he should finish work for that day, knew he shouldn't let this distract him from his research.
So he didn't.
Another day, another pillar in the tower of ivory. Ivory lab coats-- why did they choose this color? One stain, and it's sullied.
Stain. Irrationality.
He thought about this. Thought of his pupils, those who professed him as something greater-than. Irrationality. They, too, were part of this ivory tower.
He had made them that way.
He considered this carefully, and went home.
* * *
Two glasses of chai, and it was soft music into the evening.
He gazed at his parchment. Tracy Zompister, Ph. D, Biosystemology.
He pursed his lips. Wondered what would happen if he broke the seal and spilled the rest of his chai on it.
Nothing. It means nothing.
Irrationality.
He wondered what kept him in the tower of ivory. He remembered. To make a difference, to influence these young minds. Had he?
He thought back on the years, the advances they'd made, the changing of faces, the repetition of things past. Nothing new.
Not yet.
One more day. He made the decision. One more day, and I will leave the irrationality for rationality.
* * *
Day the last. Falling in line, Tray fixed his walk to his teaching place.
He taught, people learned. Are they learning?
He spoke with some, asked them. They gave the standard answers. Are they learning?
He was starting to speak different things, when someone rushed him down.
"Greetings-- apologies for the flurry. Is your name Zompister?"
"I am."
*smiles and excitement* "Hey, that's fabulous! I was wondering if I could audit your class-- that is, if you're still teaching it."
"Of course. Which one?"
"Intro to Logo-dynamics."
Tracy nodded. One more day.
Ⓐ Gabriel Koulikov
He shook his hand.
"Thank you."
"Don't thank me. You've earned it."
"I've earned starting in."
"That's right."
And with that he left.
He signed some paperwork.
Back to research.
As he strolled through the halls, there were always looks. He knew they meant something, but always seemed to have something better to do than to figure them out. He knew whatever it was, it didn't really matter.
Except today.
Irrationality. They are reveling in the emotions of their irrationality.
He stopped.
Like a center supporting column in the middle of the hallway, tall, thin, and lab coat wrapped around Tray like it was his marble finish.
He felt it today. He was part of the ivory tower.
And from far away, it seemed to be so quite literally.
He knew he should finish work for that day, knew he shouldn't let this distract him from his research.
So he didn't.
Another day, another pillar in the tower of ivory. Ivory lab coats-- why did they choose this color? One stain, and it's sullied.
Stain. Irrationality.
He thought about this. Thought of his pupils, those who professed him as something greater-than. Irrationality. They, too, were part of this ivory tower.
He had made them that way.
He considered this carefully, and went home.
* * *
Two glasses of chai, and it was soft music into the evening.
He gazed at his parchment. Tracy Zompister, Ph. D, Biosystemology.
He pursed his lips. Wondered what would happen if he broke the seal and spilled the rest of his chai on it.
Nothing. It means nothing.
Irrationality.
He wondered what kept him in the tower of ivory. He remembered. To make a difference, to influence these young minds. Had he?
He thought back on the years, the advances they'd made, the changing of faces, the repetition of things past. Nothing new.
Not yet.
One more day. He made the decision. One more day, and I will leave the irrationality for rationality.
* * *
Day the last. Falling in line, Tray fixed his walk to his teaching place.
He taught, people learned. Are they learning?
He spoke with some, asked them. They gave the standard answers. Are they learning?
He was starting to speak different things, when someone rushed him down.
"Greetings-- apologies for the flurry. Is your name Zompister?"
"I am."
*smiles and excitement* "Hey, that's fabulous! I was wondering if I could audit your class-- that is, if you're still teaching it."
"Of course. Which one?"
"Intro to Logo-dynamics."
Tracy nodded. One more day.
Ⓐ Gabriel Koulikov