Adjunct Professor Zhang’s final exam began as any would, except that one of her students was from thirty-two years in the future.
NB: This story is based entirely on the fact that “invigilator” is an extremely gnarly name for a very tame job. Enjoy.
The Invigilator sat facing a wall, eyes closed, watching every move in the pub behind her. In a place like that, there were plenty of eyes to look through, although the drunk ones made it harder. She had been on this particular case for two days, and there was a deadline. A certain valuable tome had been stolen from a certain Departmental office—she had not been told which office because the Faculty protect their own from outside scrutiny while viciously punishing incompetence internally—and her job was to retrieve it. The Faculty had made it known that missing the deadline would not be tolerated, so she was starting to be concerned. The intolerance of the Faculty could result in death.