The Apathetic Professor of Esper Academy

September 13th

Drekra Malve stood before the gleaming new printer, a gift from their friend Ciradyl Elgeiros. But despite their hours trying to make it work, it just sat there, silent and unresponsive. Drekra couldn't understand why; they were a master of the six esper arts, after all! Drekra had tried everything they could think of–even using the most powerful of advanced psionic techniques–but nothing seemed to work.

Defeat slumped against the wall of the lab. Every conceivable solution had been tried, yet nothing worked. What was wrong with the machine? Nothing made sense. Frustration hung in the air as they contemplated their next step.

Suddenly, Drekra noticed a faint, almost imperceptible hum from the printer. It was so quiet, Drekra almost missed it, but it was there. Drekra quickly perked up, their gaze turning from the printer to the floor, searching for the source of the sound.

As they inched forward, a hint of something caught their attention. A crack barely visible in the floorboard had started growing broader and more defined. The closer they got, the more the energy emanating from it seemed to vibrate around them. Somehow, Drekra knew that this was an important discovery.

Drekra reached into their pocket and pulled out a small knife, using it to wedge the crack open further. As the gap widened, a tiny spark of electricity shot out and hit Professor Malve. And just like that, the printer did not come to life. In her mind's eye, the machine whirring and printing the documents Drekra had been trying to get it to do moments before.

The reality was cruel, and Drekra did not smile in relief and triumph. They had now finally solved the mystery.

No solution worked; she felt hollow, and Drekra was very tired and overwhelmed. Tears began to trickle down their face as they curled up on the wall, their knees at their chest, trying not to sob. It had been three hours of struggle, and in the end, it was nothing more than a cracked floorboard to show for their efforts.

"The lesson here was quite clear,

That humankind cannot control what is not theirs to steer.

From technology, we must keep our distance,

For all its power still invites us no assistance.

Our efforts spent in vain for this machine,

A reminder of our failure so keen.

A lament to the printer."

Confidently, Duke marched into the room, her feet striking the ground with exacting force. A small flash drive was clutched in her right palm — a minuscule object that held the promise of Ciradyl owing her a debt of gratitude. 'Top student' was close at hand, though it wasn't a title given out by the school. Still, it was a goal she could attain in her mind's eye.

Duke stepped into the room, and her eyes fell upon the damaged floor. Deep gashes had been cut into it as if something had furiously attacked it. She looked at the professor wide-eyed and asked, "What happened here? What caused this?"

Rushing to the professor, Duke saw her face twisted in despair. Slumped in his chair, a hand ran through her dishevelled crimson hair. She was trembling, tears streaming down her face. A broken rasp escaped her lips, "This is no printer... this is a machine of evil." Her voice was fragile as if the force of emotion had just destroyed her.

Duke's skin seemed to glow in the faint light emanating from the recessed lamps. Her piercing green eyes usually bored into everyone around her and seemed to possess an intensity capable of melting steel. She flicked her head, making her short blonde hair shimmer momentarily before it settled back into its original state. A slight smirk spread across her face, but one could catch a glimpse of the intense rage that lurked beneath if one dared to look deep enough.