Summary: Twenty five minutes into the year 11 GCSE maths exam, Phil Lester starts to notice peculiar things happening. Things he can’t explain. And then there’s Dan Howell who seems to be doing strange party tricks with his equipment.
Things get really strange, REALLY fast.
Dedicated to those of you expecting results. You can do it! :)
ESP - (Extrasensory perception) which is the name for individuals harbouring psychic abilities that can be triggered in adolescence
I hate exams.
More specifically, I hate maths exams. I can’t stand the layout, the questions, even the invigilators are assholes. That’s the only thought which buzzes around my head as I squint at the whiteboard at the front of the room. I can’t help tensing and squirming uncomfortably. My chair is hard wood and I can feel something spiky sticking out of the seat and stabbing me in my left thigh “You have a few minutes to write your name and centre number in the space provided on the paper,” Mr Cannon, my year eight science teacher, drawls from the front of the room. His voice echoes and is as stern as always, sending shivers tip-toeing up and down my spine.
I had to invigilate an exam at 9… so with my crazy that meant that I only got about two hours of sleep.
The invigilation went fine. I accepted the coffee offered me, and was offered a fall/winter TA position with the same History of Astronomy class I’m TAing now. That’ll make a huge difference for my financial stability in the next few months (and sweet, sweet health insurance).
Therapy after that, but I was too wired and overtired to really open up. I just kept wanting to talk to my therapist about Gregor Cantor, transfinite numbers, and set theory, and how there are numerous ways practicing scientists incorporate infinite numbers into equations to make meaningful predictions about the natural world. And what does that even mean? etc. etc.
When I got home I found an email waiting for me from McGill-Queen’s University Press. They’re still interested in making my dissertation into a book! My adviser’s say that it is professional suicide, but I want to try to make my own way, and I think that it’s classists, self-defeating, and ultimately oppressive to only respect publications that come out of the US and the UK.
Finished watching season 6 of the Venture Bros. with my house mates tonight. It was really spot on, and darkly funny in the kind of over the top ways that doesn’t actually leave me feeling depressed afterwards.
To top it all off my piercings are hardly noticeable pain wise, unless I bash them. I really think a slight metal allergy was likely partially to blame last time. I’m glad I went with bioplast, but I’m a little cross that the first place I got them done didn’t think of this.
Mr Lester are you okay?” I lift my head up to see one of the invigilators, a pretty women with a wiry figure and blood-red hair stares down at me with what I can only describe as the smallest of smiles on her lips. I hope I got his name right her voice echoes in my head and I stare at her lips which never said a word.
so this is a snippet of “Question 1” and yasss it’s like “Shut up” but it has an origin and is way, WAY more weirder ;)