Arthur's office was perhaps the most normal-looking location in the entire complex, as far as Claudia had gathered. Although, the measuring stick with which she made this assessment was somewhat broken. The room was a mess to begin with, with stacks of papers strewn about, heavy cabinets lining the walls, and half the floor space taken up by cardboard boxes. It was in every appearance a typical, neglected office space, which she found oddly comforting after her exposure to the anthropology exhibit itself. One box closest to the door that happened to have fallen open was filled with a curious assortment of old light bulbs, silver wristwatches, and Mardi Gras beads. Arthur kicked at a stray bead that lined a path through the boxes, side-stepping between these obstacles until he came to the area where his desk stood amidst the rubble with bulky laptop atop it. He shot a quick glance toward a corner of the room, where another desk and computer workstation had been set up, behind which was a dark-haired woman.
"I didn't see you come in," Arthur addressed the woman at the computer, before turning his attention to the papers upon his desk. "I'd appreciate it if you didn't spy on me through the cameras."
The woman rose from her chair. Her hair fell past her shoulders, framing a narrow face with high cheekbones, and eyes of equal shade. She addressed Arthur with a small smirk, and a South London accent.
"Hello Professor Wells, how are you today?" the woman mocked, her voice lyrical. "Well I'm fine, thank you, Arthur. And how are you?"
"How did you get in before me?" Arthur cut in, ignoring her derision. The woman stepped out from behind her desk to busy herself with the contents of a nearby drawer, her back to him. She replied nonchalantly,
"East entrance. I took the lift."
Arthur's gaze flitted up from his desk to fixate on her, brows heavy with confusion. "You said it was broken."
She glanced back over her shoulder, with an expression of feigned innocence. "It was. And I repaired it. Though, I thought to withhold this information, but only because I care so deeply about you, Arthur."
"With whatever deities as my witnesses, I will fire you, Helena," Arthur grumbled.
"As you've said nearly every day since hiring me," she replied. Claudia had shrank back against the wall, or rather, against a stack of boxes, and was waiting in perplexed silence. She was unsure of when she might have an opening to introduce herself, if Arthur would do so, or if he had suddenly forgotten she was there. It was quite possible, seeing as he continued to sift through the papers on his desk, then addressed the woman again with forced civility.
"How's your wife?"
"Not working here, no matter how many times you inquire," she replied with a small smile. "She is doing well, as am I."
"I still can't fathom how she would prefer to sit around in a room full of monkeys instead of putting her historical knowledge to use," the grumbling tone had returned to Arthur's voice.
"Apes, not monkeys. And she's not in the room with them, for your information, she has her own room. She wanted a peaceful job, during which she can read and pass the time without disturbance. I can't blame her, as I'm inclined to feel the same."
Claudia spoke before Arthur could snap back, not so much out of a need to contribute to the conversation, but to reassure herself that she was indeed still visible to the naked eye. "I heard that a guy who worked there got his hand bitten off, some people in my dorm were talking about it," she asserted.
The professor seemed to notice Claudia for the first time, and she cocked her head ever so slightly, contemplating this girl in the corner of the room. When no explanation or intervention was offered by Arthur, who had again resolved to ignore the professor's jabs, she replied matter-of-factly, "Not his hand, just a finger, which has been reattached. Unfortunately, the chimp who removed it will have to be put down."
Claudia frowned. "I'm sorry."
The professor examined the girl a moment longer, her eyes flicked back toward Arthur, and then she abruptly closed the drawer she had been working out of. She crossed the room and gave a warm smile toward the girl who seemed bewilderingly out of place.
"I don't believe we've met. Are you a new intern?"
"Oh, no. I'm Claudia Donovan, I think I was in your class spring quarter last year, '19th Century English Literature,'" she extended a hand, "I'm sort of touring."
"Oh," the professor glanced mischievously in Arthur's direction, though he had absorbed himself in further agitating the mess of papers upon his desk, "I didn't know you gave sort-of-tours, Arthur, you need to inform me of your revolutionary new plans for the warehouse."
Claudia's stomach did a small turn, though she focused all her mental willpower on remaining stoical.
"Exhibit," Arthur grumbled, "We're not a storage facility."
"If that helps you sleep at night," the professor said, and she took Claudia's hand, "Helena Wells. I couldn't put your name to a face, but I remember reading your final essay, it was one of the few I received. It was excellent. I'm still not quite accustomed to teaching in such an experimental institution, though it certainly frees me from reading subpar material. The students who go beyond the bare minimum are those who understand the value of knowledge."
"And they get nothing to show for it," Arthur added, "No grades, no notion of having done anything correctly. It's illogical, and it's why I don't teach anymore."
"Arthur, half the faculty knows why you stopped teaching, and that's not why," Wells said.
He did not deign to respond, as he had done before, although this particular silence that followed seemed to weigh upon the atmosphere of the room. Helena pursed her lips, as if she regretted that the words had slipped through them, and the shuffling sounds of Arthur's paper-sorting had ceased.
Claudia struggled to find words, some vapid statement that she might inject here to bring the conversation to some other subject, even to its prior level of strained civility. There had been a kind of rapport despite their apparent abrasion, a naturally strained employee-employer relationship which wasn't altogether strange or discomforting. Now, a scab had been picked, and Claudia stood in the middle of two adults who at that moment could no longer maintain eye contact. She fondly recalled that bygone minute when she'd been one with the decor.
"Can we go downstairs to see the exhibit?" she offered. Helena's eyes were still lowered, though Arthur slowly met Claudia's gaze with a strange expression. "I'd like to see some of the artifacts up close."
"Why are you really here?"
Her stomach plunged. Arthur's voice was flat, with neither warmth nor irritation. He removed his glasses and placed them upon the desk, as Helena stepped toward him with a hand raised placatingly.
"Arthur, I apologize, though I think you should continue the tour."
"She is neither seeking an internship with me, nor is she interested in the tour itself, if her attitude regarding absurdity is any indication," Arthur said quickly. Helena looked back at Claudia in bewilderment, as the latter felt a frantic pounding in her chest. This is not how it's supposed to go. Arthur addressed Claudia again.
"You've shown a remarkable capacity for acceptance with regard every notion I've proposed, lacking the mind or the compulsion to question how tactile contact with an object can cause bodily harm. You either have no genuine grasp of scientific inquiry itself, or you already understand what transpires here, in which case, you don't need a tour. You need something."
Claudia protested, "You invited people for an internship. I- I hadn't decided if I wanted it, I thought I should see your work first."
"I am required to offer internships and tours to maintain my tenure, offer being the key word, yet no student has been dumb enough to actually bring themself here despite my warnings," he replied.
"Arthur, stop," Helena snapped.
"No, see, they'll scramble over each other for even a whiff of units, credits, CV material, and so for an internship lacking all of those qualities, no right-minded person would show their face. Why her? I haven't given a tour in seven years, I don't advertise tours, I explicitly discourage tours, and here you are."
"You didn't stop me from coming in here," Claudia insisted, the blood draining from her face, "You agreed to let me in."
"I agreed because I have to agree," Arthur replied, suspicion fully apparent in his features, "Now, why are you really here? Which of my artifacts are you looking for?"
Claudia felt her eyes begin to water in frustration, and despite her resolution to see this through, to follow the clues, to shed light on that bizarre occurrence that upset her world the preceding night, she felt a weight descending upon her whole body. There was, she realized, very little evidence she could present to justify her being there, none of which sounded reasonable or rational. She was wasting this man's time, and her own time. She tilted her head back and looked up at hanging the office lights, to keep the water from spilling out beyond her eyes, as a growing resignation seeped away what little energy she had left. Arthur continued to stare fixedly at her, ignoring her apparent vulnerability, as Helena glared daggers at him in turn. Claudia stepped back from the other two, and made motions as if to leave.
"I don't need anything. I'm sorry for taking up so much of your time," she said, lips curling inward and eyebrows stitched in pain. "I should probably get back to my dorm, I have some reading to do." She turned the doorknob.
"I'd be more than happy to give you a tour myself," Helena insisted.
Claudia shook her head. "No, it's fine. He's right."
The professor's lips parted to reply, though she stopped short and her mouth hung open.
"I came here because I'm stupid," Claudia said, now standing in the open doorway. She exhaled sharply, with a kind of self-derisive amusement, and dabbed a fingertip at the corner of an eye. She examined the water drop with misplaced concentration, avoiding the confusion of the other two in the room. "I came here because I thought you were someone I met before, but it seems unlikely now." Claudia raised her eyes to find Helena and Arthur staring at her in transfixed silence.
"It was nice speaking with you, Professor. See you around."
She left before either could reply.