I put everything I need into the little basket I’ve been using to take food downstairs, then go to grab my laptop, discovering as I do that the live stream is still going even though I thought I ended it, and it peaked at a thousand views while I was comforting Magnus.
“I thought I ended the live stream when Magnus got home,” I whisper to them, a little annoyed with myself. “Let’s hope he’s not upset that I accidentally put him on camera without his consent. Thank you all for spending time with me, but I’m going to go make Magnus’s dinner. See you soon.”
This time I definitely end the livestream. There’s going to be so many rumors about us tomorrow.
Oops?
Chapter 18
Magnus
Sleep isn’tfor the weak. It’s for humans, and I should be getting more of it.
“Ugh, my inner voice is whiny and annoying,” I grumble, putting my head down on my desk.
Professor Ying’s laughter startles me. I glance up to find her standing in the doorway of the office I share with the adjuncts in the linguistics building. She has a wry grin on an ageless face surrounded by a sharp bob with straight French bangs and eyebrows groomed into a wicked arch. She’s by far the most stylish adult I know, and I consider myself lucky to have made her a friend.
“Why is your inner voice being whiny?” she asks, slipping off her heels as she sits across from me.
“I’ve had three hours of sleep since the conference last weekend, and I just received a text message from my mother informing me that we are eating at Seifutei, and our reservations are for eight pm. Eight! Who waits to eat dinner until eight?” I sigh and bang my head on my desk. “And now my outside voice is whiny, too.”
“Why haven’t you slept since Sunday? I assume you slept Sunday night,” she demands sharply.
I really do wish I could just close my eyes and let myself drift like Trent allowed me to do while he made dinner last night. “I was catching up on grading, and I need to prepare and send Chancellor Mustafa two different updates on two projects that will both affect the university in different ways. He wants me to send him regular reports on my research project, and I’m sending those with progress reports on the next building project I’m readying so that he associates one with the other and doesn’t pull the rug out from under me with the independent research project.”
“Sneaky,” she comments with a soft laugh. “When is your next class?”
I glance up at the clock and clench my jaw. “I need to start walking over there now. It’s in the math building.”
I stand, gathering up my materials and packing them into my backpack. I won’t be back to this desk until Thursday, so I take everything I’ll need with me.
“Try to nap before you go to dinner. You’ll get to the point of exhaustion where it’s difficult to turn off if you wait too long,” she warns me, pulling me into a tight hug. “And I’ll walk you over there.”
I take a few extra moments to soak in her support and what comfort she’s offering before stepping back. “I probably won’t have time to nap, but thank you. I still have to download the latest data.”
She and I start the walk together after she slips into her shoes. “Have you defined the parameters for your analysis yet?”
“Yes. I finalized the scope of my project before the conference. I’ve assigned each username a data number, I’m noting vital statistics, and I’m tracking interactions with our posts. I’m tracking positive versus negative language in comments, frequency of interactions, and the duration of the subscription. I plan to invite my subscribers to sign up forvoluntary surveys, but I haven’t yet planned out a survey schedule or exactly what to track with them.”
Since the independent research of the project was only a means of keeping the university invested in the success of this project, I haven’t fully planned it out yet. I’ll get there. Eventually.
“Have you considered recruiting from the grad students to help with your project? You could get volunteers to analyze the data and fill out the reports for you,” Professor Ying suggests.
“I do have a few volunteers helping me with comment moderation. I could offer stipends to anyone willing to put in extra hours.” I can afford the labor now, though I will have to talk to Trent about including others in my project.
“Grad students will do anything for a buck,” she teases, elbowing me.
I roll my eyes and elbow her back. “I am not a grad student anymore.”
“Grad students and under paid professors will do anything for a buck,” she revises, laughing.
“Even start a porn channel,” I snicker as we hit the promenade that we have to cross to get to the Whitehall building where I have class.
She laughs with me, and silence falls between us as we take in the rare sunny March day. We’ve had storms off and on since the first, and if weather patterns hold, we’ll have plenty more until mid-April when things will start drying out again.
“Magnus…” Dr. Ying says, pulling me out of my wandering thoughts.
I glance over at her, but she’s looking all around us, scanning the promenade with her eyes.
