Fafnir, Master of Geology
Graduation!
Fafnir bopped around his dorm suite, packing up his things and singing whatever came to mind (his music player was already packed). Already, one of the guys from down the hall had popped in to proclaim disgust over the amount of happiness Fafnir was radiating when some people still had exams to study for (but how much studying could he be doing if he was going drinking with Fafnir and the rest tonight?)
He didn't care, though; he was done with exams for the next little while. He'd handed in the final version of his Master's thesis and the review committee had approved him for the degree! Master of Geology.
Of course.
Convocation, with it's pageantry and funny hats and potential for the traditional slipping of a condom to the dean when they shook hands, wasn't going to be until after the holidays. He wasn't sure he would go; he'd already finished a few Bachelor's of Science, and this was his second Master's degree - not bad for a reploid who hadn't even hit 40 yet. He'd go if the family wanted, or his friends could attend, or Dr. Vester could.
Good old Dr. Vester! If Fafnir had been religious, he would have laid a blessing on the old man. The world's top expert on terraforming, and he had a place in Fafnir's heart marked 'hero'. A hundred years old if he was a day, and a mind sharp enough to shear the edges off of atoms, or so it always seemed to Fafnir. He'd chosen Nova Edinburgh University (NEU for short) sheerly because of the chance to take courses taught by Vester, to learn from him. He'd never expected to end up with the man himself as mentor, much more than just a teacher or adviser - but he had, and oh, how lucky! It was because of Vester that he had rocketed through his GeoBach and into his Master's degree, and it was he who had encouraged Fafnir to go for the most coveted plum a baby geologist working towards a thesis could hope to pluck - and he'd gone for it, and gotten it! Eighteen months in the field, working as a student/intern/drudge, had taught him so much. Vester had said there were things you couldn't learn from texts or lectures - not even his lectures, he'd assured Fafnir, laughing at the teasing question - and he'd been so very right!
And now he had his Master's!
Fafnir secured the last crate and surveyed his handiwork with satisfaction. All that was left unpacked were the pieces of furniture that belonged to the dorm, and the small suitcase he'd live out of until tomorrow afternoon's ride home. Everything was ready to go. He was ready - and as soon as he got home and the whirl of holiday traditions calmed down, he'd start looking for a job in the field.
But that was for later. For now - he checked his internal chronometer - he still had a few hours before he was to meet his friends for a final celebration before they scattered for Christmas break. He had time to go say goodbye to his girlfriend; she was staying, and knew he was going, and maybe they could have a little fun before he was off.
Whistling a jaunty tune straight out of that Historical Rock & Roll of the 20th Century class he took as an elective a few years back, he swung his code stick at the lock as he shrugged into a warm jacket and was on his way.
Fafnir bopped around his dorm suite, packing up his things and singing whatever came to mind (his music player was already packed). Already, one of the guys from down the hall had popped in to proclaim disgust over the amount of happiness Fafnir was radiating when some people still had exams to study for (but how much studying could he be doing if he was going drinking with Fafnir and the rest tonight?)
He didn't care, though; he was done with exams for the next little while. He'd handed in the final version of his Master's thesis and the review committee had approved him for the degree! Master of Geology.
Of course.
Convocation, with it's pageantry and funny hats and potential for the traditional slipping of a condom to the dean when they shook hands, wasn't going to be until after the holidays. He wasn't sure he would go; he'd already finished a few Bachelor's of Science, and this was his second Master's degree - not bad for a reploid who hadn't even hit 40 yet. He'd go if the family wanted, or his friends could attend, or Dr. Vester could.
Good old Dr. Vester! If Fafnir had been religious, he would have laid a blessing on the old man. The world's top expert on terraforming, and he had a place in Fafnir's heart marked 'hero'. A hundred years old if he was a day, and a mind sharp enough to shear the edges off of atoms, or so it always seemed to Fafnir. He'd chosen Nova Edinburgh University (NEU for short) sheerly because of the chance to take courses taught by Vester, to learn from him. He'd never expected to end up with the man himself as mentor, much more than just a teacher or adviser - but he had, and oh, how lucky! It was because of Vester that he had rocketed through his GeoBach and into his Master's degree, and it was he who had encouraged Fafnir to go for the most coveted plum a baby geologist working towards a thesis could hope to pluck - and he'd gone for it, and gotten it! Eighteen months in the field, working as a student/intern/drudge, had taught him so much. Vester had said there were things you couldn't learn from texts or lectures - not even his lectures, he'd assured Fafnir, laughing at the teasing question - and he'd been so very right!
And now he had his Master's!
Fafnir secured the last crate and surveyed his handiwork with satisfaction. All that was left unpacked were the pieces of furniture that belonged to the dorm, and the small suitcase he'd live out of until tomorrow afternoon's ride home. Everything was ready to go. He was ready - and as soon as he got home and the whirl of holiday traditions calmed down, he'd start looking for a job in the field.
But that was for later. For now - he checked his internal chronometer - he still had a few hours before he was to meet his friends for a final celebration before they scattered for Christmas break. He had time to go say goodbye to his girlfriend; she was staying, and knew he was going, and maybe they could have a little fun before he was off.
Whistling a jaunty tune straight out of that Historical Rock & Roll of the 20th Century class he took as an elective a few years back, he swung his code stick at the lock as he shrugged into a warm jacket and was on his way.