The halfway point on the bottom tooth holds a lab for computational graduate students. Through the lab's open door a voice travels. Thickly accented, it turns right and meanders to the end of the hall. There it seizes my ear. My mind struggles with it, inventing wild stories about it's mysterious owner.
Who is she? If she's a graduate student, she doesn't look the part. She's too old(at least 50). When she walks, her head is no more than 5 feet off the ground. She's hunched forward. She walks with her feet quite far apart and her arms do not hang at her side. Instead they reach slightly forward, halfway between zombie and normal person. She wears black rimmed spectacles that rest at the very tip of her nose, which is rounded and rosy, like Santa Claus'. She has a mass of black curly hair. Her clothes alternate. Today the modest dress of a librarian or piano teacher. Tomorrow the rebellious garb of an unruly teenager.
Her voice has a lecturing quality. Although she speaks English I can't pick anything out. She talks to her fellow computational graduate student, who she has under her complete control.
Her accent sounds Eastern European. When she talks her voice rises and falls rhythmically giving the strong impression of an incantation.
Because of this, I have surmised she is a sorceress. It would explain a lot: Why the lab mate she controls always has a glazed look on her face? Clearly her senses have been dulled by a spell. Why she is still a graduate student at such an old age? Because she also controls her research advisor and forces him to let her stay. She's probably been here for years. She uses her graduate student guise to steal chemicals for her potions.
My heart goes out to the other student in that lab. I pass her sitting lonely at her computer. She entered grad school to learn. Instead she became the captive of mind dulling witchcraft. When I go by their lab I look in at her. As soon as she sees me she looks down. She has been trained to fear outsiders. Once I heard her singing. It was on a weekend and the sorceress had not been in the lab for a few days. The bravery and independent will it must have taken to produce that song gave me hope. She was regaining control. But like a fool I had to investigate. As soon as she saw me peering in at her she stopped mid note. For three seconds she held my gaze. She then took a swig of water, looked down, and began typing rapidly. Too shy for an audience she retreated back into herself. Now she never looks up when I pass her. Furthermore, when I see her master in the hallway I am confronted with suspicious looks. Penn State is a far more dangerous place than I ever imagined.
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