Devil's Soul

Chapter 20 (the magnetism of nuclear systems)

I’ve realized that if I continue to tell my story like this, you are going to start to think I was only taking one class at MIT. That was not the case. I was actually taking four classes, but most of the events in my school life worth mentioning seemed to revolve around Engineering of Nuclear Systems. Of course, none of these events actually had anything to do with the exciting endeavor of engineering nuclear systems. (I make fun, but I actually did find it quite exciting). Rather, I think that Nuclear Systems had some sort of mystical magnetism about it, which attracted the more interesting moments of my life.

Do I really believe that? No. But it was this class that Desmond proposed we ditch, after we had spent twenty-five minutes riding on the bus to get there. At the time, I couldn’t comprehend why he would wait until we were outside the classroom door to present such an idea, but now that I’m reflecting on that day, I think his actions seem more reasonable. I didn’t start to get spacey until we were almost there, so he didn’t see reason to ditch until we were almost there.

I didn’t really noticed that I’d been absently bumping into people as we walked down the Infinite Corridor, but Desmond knew to look out for the early signs. He didn’t bother to tell me that he had spotted “early signs” until later, leaving me with the impression that he merely wanted to ditch for the heck of it. To do something fun. Now, I realize that the methods we would have used to relieve my early symptoms were synonyms with “something fun” in his mind. I guess he didn’t feel the need to make the distinction.

He really should have been more explicit, though, because instead of consenting to ditch class like a good little demon, I clung steadfast to my identity as a good little student. I’m sure he thought he could lure me away with promises of fun eventually, but whatever speech he had prepared was forgotten as soon as I made my argument. I explained that if he didn’t join me in class, it couldn’t really be considered ditching because he wasn’t supposed to be there in the first place. I continued on to say that I preferred him to not attend the class because his presence would be the same as stealing from the institution, and I respected my school too much to feel comfortable with that.

What I had momentarily forgotten was that Desmond was a mischievous demon that couldn’t pass up such an attractive opportunity to something he wasn’t “permitted” to do by some obscene and, according to him, make-believe authority figure. He was like a rebellious teenager that had a slippery hold on reason. This weakness is what allowed me to unwittingly trick Desmond into being determined to attend my Nuclear Systems class.

The joke would have been on him because he had to spend an hour and a half learning about single-phase coolant heat transfer, while pretending to be happy with himself for defying authority. Turns out the joke was on me, though, because I spent an hour and a half not learning about single-phase coolant heat transfer, while I tried to get my chaotic thoughts under control enough for me to listen to Professor Petros. His Greek accent already made the material difficult to learn. I really didn’t need an inability to pay attention plaguing me.

Because I wasn’t used to not being able to pay attention, I was terrible at recognizing that I had lost focus. Not only did this mean I couldn’t always re-focus myself, but it also meant that I had no way to hide the fact that I wasn’t paying attention at all. Professor Petros called me out on it, in front of the whole class, causing me to shrink in my seat from utter embarrassment. My peers glanced at me, probably out of mild interest, but in my mind, they were sending me judgmental glares. I think Professor Petros picked up on my absolute mortification because he almost seemed guilty for scolding me to pay attention.

Needless to say, the hour and a half was horrid for both me and Desmond. At the end, Professor Petros asked me to stay for a moment so he could have a word with me. My friends gave me apologetic glances and told me they’d wait outside. Desmond looked less apologetic, but he said he’d wait for me too. I didn’t bother telling him he didn’t have to wait. I was just glad that he wasn’t stalking me anymore.