First Hand Observers

The waiting room wasn't as cramped as the faculty lounge, but it lacked the soft padded chairs that the university generously provided for their staff. Much to Miss Chenille’s discomfort, it also lacked the ventilation necessary to disperse the heavy odor of Professor Ashly's pipe. She really didn't begrudge her colleague, of smoking. She just didn't like his chauvinistic attitude of using the heavy aroma as an expression of manly dominance.

To Professor Ashley, the smoke screen he set up every time she entered the room was his quiet way of rebutting her feminist antagonism, which she carried around like the blade of Excalibar. Neither attitude kept them together too long for a real battle to take hold.

She had just about reached her limit this time when Professor Nash entered through the outer office of the waiting room.

"Has the Time Coordinator showed up yet?" He asked in his usual quiet tone of voice.

"No," she replied, slightly relieved that someone else was with them now. "Neither has Professor Dean, Dr. Michael’s or Professor Masters appeared."

Ashley looked up from his book and pipe and waved hello by darting his finger in the air. He then returned to his reading. He was a man of few words.

Professor Nash sat down in the nearest chair. He was use to the hurry up and wait of administration and faculty meetings, so this particular delay didn't bother him that much. Right now he was happy he had to wait, so he could sit awhile and gather his thoughts.

He knew it might be some time before the technicians could bridge the proper time coordinates together, this much he had learned from previous experiences.

Miss Chenille was at a loss for things to do while waiting. She didn’t anticipate having to sit in this small room for such a long time. It was evident by the look in her eyes she was tired of the long wait and the discomfort caused by the heavy smoke in the room.

The stack of year old technical magazines hanging haphazardly in the rack didn’t invite her interest either. Opposite her, a square framed world map indicated the time, as a thin black line slowly crossed the meridians, leaving parts of it in darkness. Across its top, tiny clocks indicated local time of major cities.

Professor Ashley," she said to him, not trying to be neither too polite nor too hostile. "Would you please extinguish your pipe. The ventilation is very poor here, and I am stifled by that horrible smell."

He looked at her, almost happy that he had finally gotten the better of her without having to say a word; and in front of the department chairman, too.

"Does it offend you? I find the aroma to be quite pleasant, you know." He said coyly.

Nash glanced at the two in a noncommittal manner; he had heard of their personal differences before, but had never witnessed a clash until now. Besides, he made it a policy not to interfere with faculty differences, other than matters that related to academic and policy decisions.

"Very well, Miss Chenille," he said in a condescending manner. "I shall do as you say. After all, I wouldn't be much of a gentleman I didn't yield to a woman's wishes, would I?"

With that, he emptied the tobacco into the nearby ash stand.

The smug look of victory died on Chinly’s face when she caught the double innuendo of Ashly’s remark. The victory wasn't quite total, though.