Hi! You don’t know me, but we’ve met before. Countless times, actually. I call myself Omni, but in a few minutes my name will be Amanda, a cute little blonde from down the hall.
Oh, don’t bother calling campus security. Your phone has turned into a banana. No, it’s real! Eat it. See? Pretty good, right?
I’m in your room to tell you what’s about to happen. I just love to watch your expression while I tell you about the true nature of reality. It just never gets old! Sit down. Yes, there on your bed, if you please. There you go.
Bobby sat idly at his keyboard. It was hour six of a last minute sprint to complete his term paper on “The Making of the Atomic Bomb.” To tell the truth, it had been pretty easy since he had copied much of it nearly verbatim from the book of the same name, but he knew his history teacher was pretty lazy and he was unlikely to get caught. Now all he had to do was construct a believable bibliography.
Meet Jill, a twenty-something woman of considerable intellect. A tireless researcher of theoretical mathematics at her University, she’s been working away at a proof for a single conjecture for three months now. She’s barely able to take a shower every week. Her diet: noodles every day. Alternating between chicken and beef to stave off boredom from the bland pasta. Sometimes when feeling like splurging, there’ll be takeout pizza.
You wake up next morning, into the momentary unpleasant state in which you cannot remember the events of yesterday. But as you slowly open your eyes and see that you were sleeping on a king-sized bed in a poshly decorated room, you remember.