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Chapter 4 -

Sam sighed as he read the essays resulting from his Comparative Religions assignment. Overwhelmed by the sheer amount of grading he had had to deal with today, he decided to head over to the student union and find a snack. His office hours were over, and he had finished his last lecture of the day half an hour previously. He would just get a small snack, he decided, not a Kensi snack.

As he entered the cafeteria, heading almost automatically for the smoothie bar, he noticed a group of his former students gathered at a table. Even though Sam had started out with full classes, probably because he was the one new professor in the department, quite a few of his students had dropped his class, or transferred to different professors soon after the semester started. Some had come to him with legitimate needs to move their classes, such as sudden problems with child care, or unexpected schedule conflicts. However, some had just gone straight to the student services, mostly after the first class when he'd let it be known that he was Muslim. He'd lost so many students that first week that he'd actually been called into his department head's office to discuss the matter. If he had been a man who was seriously committed to a career as a college professor he would have been worried by the whole situation. However, the department head had merely told him what had happened and reiterated the department had deliberately chosen him to provide a different view point for their students. He had ended the meeting by urging Sam to stay strong and not worry about the situation.

The group of students fell silent as Sam walked past, and he could feel their eyes on his back as he stood in line, trying to decide which of the smoothies he wanted. He finally settled on a "green" smoothie with wheat grass. As he turned to head back to his office he noticed Kensi heading for the bakery and nodded to her. As far as anyone on the campus knew, the new Comparative Religion professor and the new Forensic Science instructor had nothing in common besides starting to work at the university at the same time. They had only met in orientation sessions and some Faculty Senate meetings. They had decided to not attempt to establish a friendship, deciding that remaining separate would allow them to move in vastly different emotional regions of the university. He confined himself to nodding vaguely in her direction, and continued on his way. She returned the nod with the abstracted expression on her face that either meant that she was mentally composing her next test, or that she was trying to decide between two or three different types of donuts. Really, he thought it was a fifty-fifty chance either way.

As he left the cafeteria, he automatically held the door open for an older gentleman who was entering, a scraggly looking older white guy with a bald spot. Far from being appreciative, the man gave him a dirty look, like Sam had possibly allowed his dog to defile the gentleman's lawn, or he'd taken the last pound of coffee during a pre-storm frenzy at the grocery store. It surprised Sam a little, and he slowed to a halt while he tried to remember if he'd ever met this man, and if he so what he'd done to piss him off. Nothing came to mind. Just before he left the room, he turned to see that the angry looking older gentlemen had found his way to the table with Sam's disgruntled former students, and now all of them were eyeing him suspiciously.

Just outside the building he ran into Akem, one of his young Muslim students. Akem was a slender young man who was studying mathematics. Sam knew that Akem was in his twenties, but he seemed much younger, reminding Sam of his own son. They had met at the makeshift mosque they both attended each Friday. Just now Akem looked puzzled, and maybe a little scared.

"What's up, Akem?" he questioned.

"That man, the one who just went into the building, he was talking to me." Akem answered with a bemused look on his face.

"Well, sometimes people just like to be friendly," Sam said.

"He didn't seem friendly," Akem countered quietly. "He seemed like he was trying to be friendly, but he couldn't hide the fact that he thought I was some sort of disgusting creature he couldn't believe he was talking to."

"What was he saying to you?"

"He was asking my all sorts of questions. My name, where I was from, where I was living, what my major is."

"That's quite the list of questions, is he writing an article about you?" Sam joked.

"I don't know," Akem answered, "But I'm not the only one he's talked to. Ask at the next service, he's talked to many of us. He also comes to campus to talk to those students who seem to hate us."

Akem continued on his way, heading, by the look of it, towards Seward Hall, where the math and engineering classes were held. He had a stack of textbooks, and as Sam watched he broke into a run; probably running late for class.

He had given Sam plenty to think about.

As Kensi left the bakery, clutching her donut and a cup of coffee she passed a person coming from the direction in which she had seen Sam disappear. He struck her as too old to be a traditional student, as most of the students at the college were, but she didn't recognize him as a member of the faculty. He joined a group of students gathered around a table who were carrying out an intense but hushed conversation. As she passed she heard him say, "Thank you, guys, for your suggestions! I think, with your help, I've found exactly what I'm looking for!"

Meanwhile at the library, Marty was working on the Reference Desk. This was generally a busy time, which he quite liked because it flew by. Technically, reference duties included answering questions posed by patrons, but generally there were not many questions asked while he was on the reference desk. On the other hand, another part of the duty was monitoring the public use computers, and that could get really busy.

The computers that the library provided for free public use were old, and had been through a couple of other city departments before they came to the library. The age of the computers, combined with restrictions the city's IT department put on downloading meant that not only were the computers slow, but there were some web sites that patrons could just not get to. He sympathized with both the patrons and the IT department. Thus he did not find it all unusual when a woman at computer number 10 waved frantically for assistance.

"How can I help you?" he asked the lady brightly, keeping a professional smile on his face.

"This computer is too slow," the lady began, pointing at the screen. Marty squinted to see what she was pointing at.

"Well, I know that they are older computers, so sometimes we have to baby them a little bit," he began, frantically counting." For example, I'm not sure that our computers can handle having 12 tabs open at once. Maybe you could close a couple of them?"

"No, I need all of these open!" the lady exclaimed. "I'm trying to get something done! I need all of these open! Can't you make it faster?"

"Well, not really," Marty began. "This is a really old computer. We might try saving and closing everything, and then restarting the computer, but I have to warn you that that can take a long time, up to three or four minutes for the computer to totally reboot. The good news is that it doesn't mess with your reservation time, and if there's not a waiting list, I can give you a little more time to help make up for it."

"Oh, this is terrible," the woman said, almost sobbing.

"I'm so sorry ma'am," Marty replied, starting to get a bit worried, "Do you want me to restart the computer. That's really the only thing that's going to help. . . "

The woman cut him off in mid-sentence, but not in a rude way, but in more of a resigned manner. "No, that's okay, I'm going to have to go somewhere else, this computer is too slow, and it's messing with my psychosis."

Marty nodded, "Well, Ma'am, that certainly is not our intention, good luck wherever you go next."

The lady breathed a quiet "Thank you," gathered her possessions and left, leaving Marty slightly confused, but glad that he was not causing any more mental health issues. He wished that she had stayed long enough for him offer her a pamphlet on the county run mental health services available. She had been moving pretty fast and had gotten out of the library before he remembered he had them available.

In contrast the next patron he dealt with left a smile on his face that stayed there the rest of the day and even into the evening while he was telling Kensi about his day.

At first view she looked like the stereotypical 'little old lady'. She was probably in her eighties, with silvery hair and a permanent smile. She was looking for resources to learn Calculus, she told him, because she had recently gone back to school to become a private investigator. She was having a hard time with her Calculus class and was hoping the library maintained a list of tutors. They didn't, but Marty was charmed by her thirst for knowledge. He did have to ask why a private investigator needed to learn Calculus, and she admitted that she wasn't quite sure why, because she thought it was a bit useless herself. Her school was trying to tell her it was necessary for her to be able to interpret forensic evidence. She thought that it would be much better to send all such material to a lab. "Much better to let the experts deal with it!" she exclaimed.

At the supermarket, Callen was counting down the final hours of his shift, getting ready to head to the Single Men's Bible Study scheduled for the evening. He was prepared this time, he had read the assigned chapter, and picked an assortment of cookies to share with his classmates.

Before he left for his class, he checked in with the assistant managers on duty. He listened to their concerns, trying to see if there was something on the horizon that he might need to pay more attention to. For the most part that was all they wanted, someone to listen. They were all capable of handling any problems that arose, but several of them had so concerns that they wanted to bring to his attention.

The produce manager was worried about the quality of the latest shipment of vegetables, so she and Callen checked over a random selection. One vegetable was much like the next to Callen, but he bowed to her superior knowledge, and agreed that they didn't look quite as nice as they previous batch. They finally decided that while there did seem to be a slight decline in quality, it was probably because of the time of year, and so it wouldn't be worth their time to complain to the corporate produce buyers.

Most of the managers made of point of warning him that the rains were coming. They we worried that he didn't realize how serious the problems could be. They warned him that the store was likely to get hit hard both by people preparing for trouble, and also by those who panicked at the last minute when the rains caught them by surprise. Also, as the rains hit the roads might be washed out, delaying the trucks that brought more supplies just at the time that those supplies were needed the most. His predecessor had also made a point of warning of this exact scenario; He was beginning to be a bit paranoid about the whole matter.

He managed to put his imminent doom out of his head long enough to get to the church for his bible study. The bible study provoked an intense discussion about the 12th chapter of Romans and how it applied to the modern American sports culture. It certainly gave Callen a lot to think about.

After the end of the discussion at the church, 'No Hair" and "Bald Spot" were engaged in a serious seeming conversation as Callen approached them. As usual with the members of the group of Elders, they seemed to stop talking as he approached.

"I'm sorry for the intrusion, guys," he began, "But I'm wondering what I need to do get ready for the hunting trip. I've done the hunter education online, and was wondering if we need any tags?"

'No Hair' rolled his eyes. "The government is getting involved in way too many things in our life." he said. "But I guess I can understand you wanting to follow the government's law in addition to God's law!"

'Bald Spot' was a bit more forthcoming. "We're just going to be hunting for jackrabbits, on private land owned by one of our brothers. It's not likely we'll see a game warden, but even if we do, there are no special limits on jackrabbits!"

The two elders let him know where to meet, and he left them alone to continue their mysterious communications. They were all going to be meeting the following evening, and sharing a truck to the hunting destination.