Her Last Scream
“Music came from Krupnik’s rathole, she was in there assembling whatever, or preparing for a class. Trotman was still out, thankfully, though he’d called yesterday as though his absence was a big deal. One of Bramwell’s addled Gender Studies TAs had pestered Sinclair with questions all morning, Sinclair finally telling the mindless dweeb to learn to use a library. Another of Bramwell’s robots arrived wanting to send her a fax about class schedules. He informed the automaton that sabbaticals were... how academics escaped from academia and faxes.
Having finally found silence, almost – what was bubbling from Krupnik’s hole, the Dixie Chicks? Jesus! – he sat in front of his computer and traveled to the special site, logged on. 2 Members online PROMALE: Who’s there?
HPDRIFTER: Good timing, I was just checking in and hoping to see you.
PROMALE: Nice to be appreciated.
HPDRIFTER: More than you know. I read “The Women’s Movement as a History of Lies”, Promale. I stand in awe of your scholarship.MoreLess
Having finally found silence, almost – what was bubbling from Krupnik’s hole, the Dixie Chicks? Jesus! – he sat in front of his computer and traveled to the special site, logged on. 2 Members online PROMALE: Who’s there?
HPDRIFTER: Good timing, I was just checking in and hoping to see you.
PROMALE: Nice to be appreciated.
HPDRIFTER: More than you know. I read “The Women’s Movement as a History of Lies”, Promale. I stand in awe of your scholarship.MoreLess
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