"Does Values 12 meet here?" the girl sang, looking up over her glasses.
"Yes," Vag answered grimly, and stealing only a slight glance at her white-socked legs as she danced to a seat in the front, returned to the mosaic he was working on his notebook cover.
Presently the classroom began to fill. Eight legs of dark gray-flannel, one tweed-skirt, and five moving tongues completed Vag's row. He leaned back and looked around the room, his eyes following waving hands, his ears following friendly greetings, and his nose following the feminine scents wafting up and down the aisle.
The professor was heralded with a hush.
Afterwards, Vag heard the Gray-Flannels and Tweed-Skirt. "Tremendous lecturer," one pair was saying. "He really gets down to the meaning of essence." another agreed. "For me," the Tweed-skirt said solemnly, "it holds the essential truths on which we might base all thought."
Directions 9b was filled when Vag got there. He crowded in near the door with the Gray-Flannels and Tweed-Skirt, and heard--but couldn't see--the professor.
"Really," the Tweed-Skirt was whispering as the professor spoke, "this man is anything you can ask for in a course of this kind." "Tremendous lecturer," a pair of Gray-Flannels agreed. "Really buckles down to the inner meanings of . . . of essence."
After smoking a cigarette in the hall, Vag picked his way into Realities 4c. Sitting across the room he saw the Gray-Flannels and Tweed-Skirt, and with some effort, managed to find standing room near their desk.
The professor was speaking of realities and their relation to the real. "It's been a glorious day--simply glorious," one of the Gray-Flannels was buzzing. "Great man, this," the Tweed-Skirt joined. "Gives you the feeling of approaching the more pro found meanings...the deeper...values of essence."
"No meeting on Saturday," the professor finished, and Realities 4c moved through the tiny door, out into the cold air.
The instructor had already begun lecturing when Vag got to Isotopic Topography 1b. "What's happened?" Vag whispered to the man sitting next to him. "Here are ten formulas to memorize by Monday," his neighbor answered, offering his notebook. "Also, twelve problems that have to be answered and handed in, first two-hundred pages of Filehick's 'Isotopes in Action,' and lesson twelve in the work-book a bitch of a course."