I'd do anything now, so spread these wings somehow. I scream these words so loud, but they never make a sound. ~ STORY OF THE YEAR
A slight break from the angst in this chapter. I really enjoyed creating the character of Johanna Smith, she's going to become very important for the rest of the story. i'm sure youse can figure out who she really is but I've purposely left it vaugue for now. All will become clear. For now, I hope you enjoy :)
It had long since grown dark and the corridors of the University lay empty. The daytime mass of students had left for the comfort of a warm bed or more likely to party the night away.
The old building grumbled, ancient stonework shifting and restless, breathing as if it had a life of its own. Without the heat generated by the bustling crowds, cold and damp air crept in. A dripping pipe and the scuttling feet of a small animal echoed through the empty corridors.
For all its grandeur, the University wasn't the place to be alone at night. Yet the Doctor remained, hunched over her computer, occasionally muttering something in frustration as she scribbled a note on a scrap of paper, adding it to the chaotic pile already spread across her desk. She sighed wearily, pushing aside a half-eaten packet of biscuits that regrettably had been as close to a meal as she'd gotten today. She really ought to take better care of herself, but she hated distractions when she was concentrating. Going to the canteen was a distraction. She often lost track of time when engrossed in her research, her passion - some would say obsession. Not eating was never intentional. It just happened.
Across the ceiling of hung strings of fairy lights, their golden light dancing across the otherwise dim room. A much better alternative to the harsh fluorescent lights, that hummed and flickered, drumming into her brain.
Her vision began to blur and the screen faded out of focus. The words became indistinct blobs, the black ink merged with the white background until only a grey haze remained, flickering across the computer screen. She wasn't sure whether this was due to exhaustion or the dim lighting or a combination of both. Still, she didn't want to stop. She never wanted to stop, leaving things unfinished made her feel uncomfortable.
At the moment all that mattered was her research. She didn't care that her 'office' was cramped and smelt slightly of damp, or that most of the University's elite academics regarded her as a 'nut job'. She'd been different her whole life, she could handle ignorant academics, and their small minded views, the whispers and stares that often followed her around. Not to say that their comments didn't hurt, of course they did, but she'd grown used to it.
She'd learnt not to care, if people couldn't handle or adapt to different, then that was their problem, not hers.
She was getting close, that was all that mattered. She just had a feeling that the answers she'd been searching for all these years lay just beyond her grasp. Almost close enough to touch. But close wasn't enough. The Doctor sighed. Crumpled sheets of paper adored with post-it notes lay scattered across her desk, spilling onto the floor of the tiny room. She had never been particularly good at keeping things tidy. Endless scribbles and thoughts as she had tried to make the connection, tried to prove her theory. Untidiness and disorder spread across the room, a clear reflection of her cluttered and chaotic mind. It was at times like these, that she wondered if she'd ever be able to shape the jumble of thoughts and ideas strewn across her mind into a coherent theory.
The Doctor's head felt heavy, and her eyelids were beginning to droop. She tried to force her mind to focus, concentrating all her remaining energy on the article she was working on, but her thoughts remained clouded. Her mind grew weary and any connections slipped further from her reach. She gave a heavy sigh and resigned herself to the exhaustion. There was no point trying to keep working like this.
The Doctor grumbled quietly in frustration and glanced over at the clock, the display read 2:30am. At least she thought it did, her eyes stung slightly from hours of straining at a screen. Vision blurry and unfocused, she decided that she needed sleep, and preferably not at her desk. It was too late to go home but she knew just the place for a good nap. She closed the lid of her Laptop and scrambled under her desk to find the charger. Her morning self would thank her for remembering to charge her Computer. There had been many times she had arrived at her office to find a Laptop with an empty battery. Absent-mindedness was another of her less desirable traits. She couldn't help it though, at times there was just too much whirling around her mind to remember the simple things, like plugging her laptop in or having a decent meal.
The Doctor flicked off the lights and muttered a tired goodnight to the office that she currently saw a lot more of than her own home. She closed the door with a rusty creak and disappeared into the dark hallway.
She'd made her own sign for her office, if you could ever call it an office. The ones the University provided were, well, boring. And there was one thing that she most certainly wasn't, and that was boring.
A Rainbow background gave way to clear, white text. Doctor Johanna Smith - PhD Neuroscientist.
Underneath, the infinity symbol. Promoting acceptance of neurodiversity. Jo had come to wear her identity like a shield, she was proud to be different.
Silently, she meandered through the empty corridors of the University, the twisted hallways formed a tangled maze through the old building. When she first started at the University, she had gotten lost countless times, coming to the conclusion that the original architects had wanted everyone to spend their time going round in circles so that they could spend more time admiring the grandeur of the building. Silly egoistic Architects she thought, shaking her head. In her experience, they always wanted to be the centre of attention, the most important, with they fancy buildings and ridiculous designs.
Though, she also silently thanked them for being part of the reason she had met her best friend. If she hadn't gotten lost that day and fell (quite literally) into her office, things could have turned out very differently. Suddenly, it occurred to her that she hadn't thought about their first meeting in a while. Recalling it now made her feel all warm and fuzzy inside and she couldn't help but smile at the memory.