Friendship 101: Final Exam

by Sixes_And_Sevens

Chapter 3

“So!” Lemon beamed at Starlight. “You think you might take a post here at CMA?”

“Uh, yes. In research and development.”

“Oh, you’re experimental.” Lemon nodded. “Nice, me too.”

“Uh, sure? I don’t know what that means.”

“You do experiments to further the understanding of a field,” Lemon said breezily. “There are also researchers, like Moondancer, or teachers, like Twinkleshine. Most ponies aren’t purely one thing or another, like Lyra is an experimental researcher.”

“Shouldn’t everypony strive to be all three?”

Lemon burst out laughing. “She’s serious,” Lyra said.

That was enough to sober the yellow mare. “Really? Uh, wow.”

Starlight frowned. “Well, shouldn’t that be true? It’s how Twilight works.”

“Twilight is an alicorn and Celestia’s personal student,” Lyra pointed out. “She’s a polymath with degrees in five or six different fields and phenomenal cosmic power, and she’s still massively stressed basically all the time.”

“I--” Starlight closed her mouth. “Okay, point taken.”

“I mean, you could do all three if you really wanted,” Lemon said. “It just wouldn’t leave you much time to do anything else.”

“...I guess that makes sense,” Starlight admitted. “But I really do want to teach, you know? Make a difference for the students and everything.”

The other two mares stopped dead in their tracks. “Students?”Lemon echoed. “Starlight, this is a college. We’re professors. We don’t deal with… them.”

“But isn’t that your job?”

“Pfft! No. Trust me, you want to keep as far away from the students as you can,” Lemon said. “Let the post-grads handle the teaching. Or you could be like Twinkleshine and make sure none of your lectures can be attended by anypony who hasn’t learned to walk through higher dimensions.”

“I-- but--” Starlight trailed off, confused.

“Oh, look, we’re here already,” Lemon said cheerfully, gesturing to a large brick building. “Welcome to the social sciences!”

***

Across campus, a mare glanced over her shoulder before hurrying into a dark alleyway. She was reasonably sure that she hadn’t been followed, and she’d cast a notice-me-not spell over herself, followed by a second notice-me-not spell over the first. Out there, she was Professor Emeritus Mathematica, Common Divisor. Back here, she was just another anonymous buyer, just another bit of grist in that monstrous machine in which she’d become so terribly enmeshed.

The narrow brick alley smelled of vodka and stale urine, the stink of broken dreams and despair. She wrinkled her nose. An Equuish-Lit major had been here, with plenty of friends. The rest of the stink-- the coffee grounds, the fermenting apple cores, the deceit-- she had grown used to that some years ago, back when she herself had been but a student. She had been desperate back then. Was she so desperate now? Or had she become addicted, trading out one stress for another? Celestia, how long could she keep this addiction a secret.

“Hey.”

The voice was a low growl. Common spun around on the spot. There was a hooded figure, dark and androgynous, leaning against a doorframe.

Common took a step back. “Who are you?”

“A seller to interested parties,” the figure replied. “Might you be one such?”

“You’re not Lobachevsky.”

“Lobachevsky couldn’t make it.”

“What do I call you?”

There was a moment’s hesitation. “Oracle. Call me Oracle, if you call me anything.”

She considered this for a moment, then stepped forward. “Alright. I take it you have what I need?”

Instead of replying, Oracle fished inside their voluminous cloak and produced a thick ream of paper, holding it up so that Common could see the front page. It said ‘A Treatise on Topological Changes of State and Simplification: How to Fill All those Holes in One’s Life’.

Below, there was a byline, but it had been scribbled over with red ink. Common reached out for it. “Where did you get it?” she asked, then pulled back suddenly. “That is, if you can tell me.”

“A friend of a friend got it to me, I do not know where it is originally from.” Oracle took the bag of bits that Common proffered. “I am Oracle. I see the future, not the past.”

“Really? What does the future hold?”

“Your trial.” Oracle whipped back their hood to reveal--

“The Dean of Academic Honesty?”

“That’s right!” Dean Bean growled. “And not just me, either!” They lit their horn, and the illusion spell that had been cast over the alleyway dropped. The Lecturer in Pre-Diarchic Runes, Jenny Ruiz, shook her head disapprovingly. The Chair of Lower Mathematics, Arithmetic “Two-Chairs” Mean, glowered at her over his sub sandwich. The Bursar, Hop Frog, was apparently playing with sock puppets. Common looked around in horror. “But I-- I didn’t-- not--”

“Save it for the Chancellor’s Board,” Two-Chairs boomed. “You were caught red-hooved, and no mistake!”

“You’ll be drummed off campus,” Dr. Ruiz said. “You will find no sympathy here.”

“I like ferrets!” the Bursar said happily as one sock puppet knocked the other one over the head.

Common Divisor was speechless. There was no denying it. She had plagiarized her last. “However,” said the Dean.

Jenny’s eyebrow rose. “However?” she repeated, her voice as thin and cold as a perfect mathematical plane placed in a vacuum.

“However,” the Dean repeated, “while there is no question that you are fired, effective as soon as the new Archchancellor arrives to finalize the paperwork, and that your work will be blacklisted from all reputable publishers…”

Common whimpered.

“We may be able to spin the story to the public a different way. Perhaps you came down with a bad case of Zero Stroke, or were attacked by an Ambiguous Puzuma. Perhaps you became trapped in a Mandelbrot fractal. However, before we do that, there is something we need from you, first.”

She hesitated. Her profession reputation was already in tatters, but perhaps she could salvage some small piece… “Name it.”

The Dean gave her a shark’s smile. “I’m given to understand that there is to be a high-profile deal occurring tomorrow night…”

***

The psychology building was a sprawling complex of clean white floors and walls that were an off-putting shade of puke green. “My office is this way,” Lemon said, nodding towards a corridor ahead. “We’ll go there later. I want to show you some of our latest research first.”

“Okay,” Starlight said. “I don't know much about psychology. All I know is that the brain is the most complex system known to pony.”

“Pah,” Lyra grumbled.

Starlight frowned. “Pah?” she repeated.

Lemon rolled her eyes. “Not this again…”

“What tells you that the brain is the most complex system?” Lyra demanded.

Starlight thought for a moment. “Um, research, science, neuroscience articles…”

“The brain,” Lyra continued as though Starlight hadn't spoken. “The brain tells you that it's the most complicated thing you can study. ‘Hi, I’m Jimmy Brain, and I'm sooo complicated. Science will never fully understand me. I'm the process of billions of years of evolution.’ It’s just so egocentric.”

There was silence for a moment. Then Lemon Hearts said, “From a technical viewpoint, the brain is the only thing that's ever named itself.”

“Whoa,” Starlight said, eyes widening. “Truly the most complex and beautiful thing.”

“I love brains.”

“My brain loves to think about brains!”

Lyra groaned and smacked her head against the wall. “You guys are doing this on purpose.”

“Yep,” Lemon said. “Your brain has worked out our brains’ plan to annoy you. Good job, Lyra’s brain!”

Lyra glared at them both, then blew a raspberry. “Fine, let's go see how you’re messing with ponies’ minds today,” she grumbled.

“Glad you agree!” Lemon said brightly. “First, to your left, we’re recreating the Stallionford Prison Experiment.”

Starlight nearly choked on her own spit. “You what?” she demanded. “Lemon, isn't that about the most unethical psychological experiment ever?”

“No, that dubious honor goes to the one where a psychiatrist gave babies phobias,” Lemon corrected. “Anyway, there were some unaccounted variables in the Stallionford experiment.”

“Like what?”

“Well, when they allowed a certain group of fratty students complete control over the punishments of another group of fratty students, they said they were examining the equine condition. Really, they were examining the condition of a bunch of crass fraternity stallions, most of whom were probably suffering sudden withdrawal from their drug of choice.”

“Oh,” said Starlight. “So here, you’re… what, what are you doing?”

Lemon motioned them both over to the window of one-way glass in the wall. Inside, they could see a group of ponies standing in taped-off “cells”, while others wandered through the areas between those cells. “We’ve made the trials open to a wider range of ages, genders, and social classes,” she said proudly. “We're getting much better results this time. For instance, the harshest punishments tend to come from upper class individuals in age range fifty to sixty-five.”

Starlight looked grey. “Lemon, I still don't think this is ethical,” she said.

“Probably not,” she admitted. “But it was approved by an ethics committee, and that's all they needed to go ahead. Anyway, let's go look at one of my projects instead.”

“So you aren’t part of…” Starlight waved a hoof at the room of 'prisoners'.

“Pff, nah. That stuff is messed up,” Lemon replied. “I’m more interested in more common erratic behavior.”

Starlight looked at her expectantly. “I mostly study lies,” Lemon expounded. “Why ponies lie, how often they do it, how well… and how to catch them at it.”

Lyra looked away from where she had been glaring at the wall. “It’s pretty cool stuff, I guess, but nopony in our friend group can get away with swiping the last fudge brownie without everypony knowing about it.”

Lemon ignored this. “Right now, I’m taking data from over a thousand liars of varying ages, genders, careers, races, and social classes rating their self-judged proficiency at lying; how often they do it and how well. Once I’ve finished getting all of that in a graph, I’m going to interview them to see how well they can actually lie.”

Starlight nodded. “Alright then. What do you hope to find out?”

“Whether the ability to lie correlates to age at all,” Lemon explained. “My hypothesis is that the older you get, the more practice you have at lying, so the more believable your lies are. But, as you get older, your brain tends to not work as well, and younger individuals tend to have more imagination, so maybe it varies inversely with age.”

“That sounds really interesting! One question, though.”

“Shoot.”

“How do you know that your subjects aren’t lying to you constantly?”

There was a long, dreadful silence. “Aaaanyway,” Lyra said, “Lemon, why don’t we show Starlight the beer room?”

Lemon brightened immediately. “Oh, yeah, that’ll be good for a laugh. C’mon, let’s go!” She took off at a quick trot, leaving the other two in the dust.

Lyra grinned. “You shouldn’t ask her stuff like that, Glim. She’s smart, but she tends to think herself into a corner. Lucky for you, I know how to distract her.”

***

The new archchancellor had arrived with little pomp or circumstance. She had walked straight up to the gates of the school, answered a porter’s question about whether she had any business there with a smack from her walking stick, and stomped in with all the self-confidence of a queen and all the grace of a mountain troll with its toe cut off.

The faculty didn’t even quite realize their new head had arrived until she called a general meeting to introduce herself, some half an hour after her arrival. When they first set eyes on her, none could fail to be pleased. She had a hat that didn’t point so much as it stabbed. Her deep green robes swirled around her like a thick potion of some mysterious origin. She was stout and brown with piercing amber eyes. She carried her knobbly old walking stick like a favored weapon, which it may well have been, And her beard-- sweet Celestia, where to begin with it? It was curly and white, with the barest hints of orange and red clinging on from her youth. It wound over her face and barely brushed the ground when she walked, wrapping itself around her legs and barrel like a climbing ivy. Professor Occam Occult of the Dead Philosopher’s Society turned green with envy at the very sight of it. Dr. Camera Obscura swore her own beard reached out as though yearning to entangle with its fellow and superior. More than a few thought that even the bust of Starswirl looked a little jealous.

They were in absolute awe of her. Then she opened her mouth. “Right,” she boomed. “Let’s get on with it. Names, departments, one interesting fact about yourself. I shall begin. I am Phosphor Foxfire. Until about six hours ago, I was the local witch of Bayard Moor, a position which has thankfully now been filled by my apprentice. Before that, I was the professor of transmogrification and alteration and head of the duelling association and now I appear to be running this monkey show. One interesting fact about me is that I once got drunk and summoned up Death themself for a bet. You next, going around widdershins-wise.”

There was a moment of silence before Professor Hobby-Horse could summon up the wherewithal to reply. Or, well, not quite silence-- the echoes from Archchancellor Foxfire’s proclamations had yet to fade. She may have carried a big stick, but she certainly didn’t speak softly. Just as unnervingly, her bright eyes fixed unblinkingly on whoever was speaking. It made the assembled feel as though they were actually being listened to. It was a new, rather uncomfortable feeling for many of them.

When the last of the professors present had finished speaking, Foxfire nodded once. “Right. Jolly good. Now, is there any old business that needs covered?”

Absolute silence. One creaky old professor rose up, a thin, sinister smile on his face. “Actually, there is one thing… Regarding the admittance of earth ponies, pegasi, and other non-unicorns to this school…”

“What, again?” Foxfire demanded. “You’ve been trying to push them out since before I retired the first time, Fractal Path. Before I was hired the first time, come to that, and if what I remember of my first meeting on this board is correct, probably before I was enrolled as a student.”

“Good work requires… perseverance,” Fractal hissed. “Now, to the first point--”

“No need for that,” Foxfire said shortly. “I’m sure we’re all familiar with the arguments. It’s been twenty years since I last sat here, and I can remember them all word-perfect.”

Fractal was taken aback for a moment, then scowled. “Proper protocol must be observed!”

Foxfire nodded. “True enough. All right then, I move that we skip the bloody lecture about ‘lesser beings’ and whatnot and move straight on to the vote.”

“Seconded!” somepony quickly said.
“All in favor, say aye!”

A vast shout of ‘AYE!’ swept the room and took some moments to die away.

“Right, and against?”

“Neigh!”

“Neigh.”

“Motion carries, fourteen for and two against, the two being Fractal Path and Nocan Neighsay.”

Neighsay looked rather embarrassed. Fractal just looked outraged. “This is a travesty--”

“All in favor of casting out all non-unicorns from this august institution, say aye.”

“Aye!” Fractal retorted.

“All in favor of not doing that and instead casting this bloody stupid debate into some forlorn black hole some several light years away, say neigh.”

The “NEIGH” that followed was enough to shake the windows in their frames. Nocan Neighsay looked rather relieved.

“Right, that’s settled. No more talk of that, or you’ll get a censure.” She smiled. “Jolly good thing, too, else you’d be looking for a new Archchancellor.”

As everypony stared at her in alarm, she swept off her hat. She had no horn.

Author's Note:

Disclaimer: I am not a psychologist, nor am I even studying psychology. My research on the Stanford Prison Experiment was based mainly on bad jokes and non-professional sources. All other experiments outlined in this chapter were based on previous Ig Nobel prizewinners, and I couldn't read the reports because they cost money. If you are currently or have ever studied psychology, and I've gotten something badly wrong, corrections are welcomed.

If you want to read the abstracts regarding the lying study, or the one about alcohol that comes up next chapter, here are the links.
Lying
Alcohol

Comments

[Linksta]

This is an entirely silly take on academics and I love every second of it. And TBH when you start looking behind all the bullshit and fancy words thrown around, it can get very silly IRL.