Professor of the Future

He woke when the timer carefully installed in his basal ganglia sent a burst of neurotransmitters into his grey matter. The mix, including caffeine and nicotine as well as a bunch of other fashionable alkaloids, flooded his neurons and then settled to soak his cerebellum.

He peeled himself out of the ShowerSheets and then turned on the bed’s self-cleaning function. In only a few moments, the cells he’d sloughed off in the night, the hairs, the day’s dust — everything — was vaporized and vacuumed away.

He dressed in a flawless new suit that faintly changed color to suit his freshly exfoliated self, and tapped a quick rhythm against his temple to refresh the caffeine burst.

By the time it wore off, he’d be halfway through directly uploading his recent essays into the malleable brains of his top grad students.

Teaching was his favorite part of the day.

About Catastrophe Jones

Wretched word-goblin with enough interests that they're not particularly awesome at any of them. Terrible self-esteem and yet prone to hilarious bouts of hubris. Full of the worst flavors of self-awareness. Owns far too many craft supplies. Will sing to you at the slightest provocation.
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0 Responses to Professor of the Future

  1. This is really different! (-: Nicely done.

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