The Acts Of Julia Of Brixellum

[Loxuru]

History is full of warnings. But the future is shaped by people's short memory.

I finally convinced myself to post this story. I had started it over a year ago and then got bogged down. I recently pulled it out of the swamp again, realizing it would be now or waiting yet another year. I must confess that, by this moment, the last chapters are still under construction. Not my usual way of working, but I still have two weeks to solve it.

Whatever, putting the writing aside for a year has made it just darker, its setting more dystopic, its subject more controversial. Probably, because during the last year, many people's memory has shortened a little bit more, as events have shown.

The story plays my favorite theme : the struggle of the individual against the power of a world he or she does not want to live in. A struggle that is lost in advance, and which has, on CF, predictable consequences.

I hope you enjoy it and that you will not get lost in the storyline, jumping back and forth through times.



PART 1 : AD 2071.

A university in Western Europe, the Faculty of Ancient History. The office of Prof. Julia Bersel.

“Professor Bersel, the Board of Peers forbids the publication of this paper! It is entirely speculative, scientifically unfounded. Making this content public will harm our Institution and its reputation!”

“The Board has no authority to forbid its publication!”

“You know well, professor, that publishers always seek advice from the Board. Usually they follow that advice and refuse the paper without submitting it for external peer review!”

“Unless, I add a sound motivation! I am entitled to have the last word in such matters!”

“You are right, Professor, you have the right to reply, but remember that, once the verdict of the Board has been made, ignoring a negative advice from the Board of Peers to submit a publication, could have disciplinary consequences, as its content could be endangering the reputation of the University!”

“We are diverting from the subject! This discussion is not about my ideas, but about what is in the source documents.”

“The Board is convinced that this source document you refer to, is a forgery! A mock up! An invented story! There is no proof of its authenticity!”

“It is authentically Middle Aged!”

“Sure! But it is an invented story! Invented during the Middle Ages!”

“I am convinced it was based and largely copied from an older, authentic account!”

“Do not try to convince us, Professor, the Board has made up its decision already! It will advise not to publish! Based on sound considerations! The Board will report such to the Office of the Dean. We will furthermore add an advice to the Dean to prevent, or rather forbid you to do more research on this subject during the time you have to commit yourself to university work!”

“What about Academic Freedom?”

“Professor, Academic Freedom is an illusion!”

“In that case, I still can publish in a popularizing format. Without mentioning my affiliation to the University! My academic titles properly will make me sufficiently qualified to make it believable.”

“Professor Bersel, I am afraid I have to report that statement to the Office of the Dean too!”

(to be continued)

 

[windar]

Authentically Middle Aged-I can relate to that!

I'm guessing the Professor's contract has some small print...

 

[Barbaria1]

I'm guessing the Professor's contract has some small print...

If it has, you can be sure she hasn't read it!

Somehow I think Professor Bersel is getting in over her head. These guys seem pretty humorless to me. And I bet the Dean is even worse

 

[thehangingtree]

History is full of warnings. But the future is shaped by people's short memory.

I finally convinced myself to post this story. I had started it over a year ago and then got bogged down. I recently pulled it out of the swamp again, realizing it would be now or waiting yet another year. I must confess that, by this moment, the last chapters are still under construction. Not my usual way of working, but I still have two weeks to solve it.

Whatever, putting the writing aside for a year has made it just darker, its setting more dystopic, its subject more controversial. Probably, because during the last year, many people's memory has shortened a little bit more, as events have shown.

The story plays my favorite theme : the struggle of the individual against the power of a world he or she does not want to live in. A struggle that is lost in advance, and which has, on CF, predictable consequences.

I hope you enjoy it and that you will not get lost in the storyline, jumping back and forth through times.



PART 1 : AD 2071.

A university in Western Europe, the Faculty of Ancient History. The office of Prof. Julia Bersel.

“Professor Bersel, the Board of Peers forbids the publication of this paper! It is entirely speculative, scientifically unfounded. Making this content public will harm our Institution and its reputation!”

“The Board has no authority to forbid its publication!”

“You know well, professor, that publishers always seek advice from the Board. Usually they follow that advice and refuse the paper without submitting it for external peer review!”

“Unless, I add a sound motivation! I am entitled to have the last word in such matters!”

“You are right, Professor, you have the right to reply, but remember that, once the verdict of the Board has been made, ignoring a negative advice from the Board of Peers to submit a publication, could have disciplinary consequences, as its content could be endangering the reputation of the University!”

“We are diverting from the subject! This discussion is not about my ideas, but about what is in the source documents.”

“The Board is convinced that this source document you refer to, is a forgery! A mock up! An invented story! There is no proof of its authenticity!”

“It is authentically Middle Aged!”

“Sure! But it is an invented story! Invented during the Middle Ages!”

“I am convinced it was based and largely copied from an older, authentic account!”

“Do not try to convince us, Professor, the Board has made up its decision already! It will advise not to publish! Based on sound considerations! The Board will report such to the Office of the Dean. We will furthermore add an advice to the Dean to prevent, or rather forbid you to do more research on this subject during the time you have to commit yourself to university work!”

“What about Academic Freedom?”

“Professor, Academic Freedom is an illusion!”

“In that case, I still can publish in a popularizing format. Without mentioning my affiliation to the University! My academic titles properly will make me sufficiently qualified to make it believable.”

“Professor Bersel, I am afraid I have to report that statement to the Office of the Dean too!”

(to be continued)

If it has, you can be sure she hasn't read it!

Somehow I think Professor Bersel is getting in over her head. These guys seem pretty humorless to me. And I bet the Dean is even worse

Professor Bersel seems to be the granddaughter of Barbara Moore!!!

 

[windar]

OK, I have to ask: Bersel back wards is Les Reb. Is that a co-incidence?

 

[Wragg]

History is full of warnings. But the future is shaped by people's short memory.

I finally convinced myself to post this story. I had started it over a year ago and then got bogged down. I recently pulled it out of the swamp again, realizing it would be now or waiting yet another year. I must confess that, by this moment, the last chapters are still under construction. Not my usual way of working, but I still have two weeks to solve it.

Whatever, putting the writing aside for a year has made it just darker, its setting more dystopic, its subject more controversial. Probably, because during the last year, many people's memory has shortened a little bit more, as events have shown.

The story plays my favorite theme : the struggle of the individual against the power of a world he or she does not want to live in. A struggle that is lost in advance, and which has, on CF, predictable consequences.

I hope you enjoy it and that you will not get lost in the storyline, jumping back and forth through times.



PART 1 : AD 2071.

A university in Western Europe, the Faculty of Ancient History. The office of Prof. Julia Bersel.

“Professor Bersel, the Board of Peers forbids the publication of this paper! It is entirely speculative, scientifically unfounded. Making this content public will harm our Institution and its reputation!”

“The Board has no authority to forbid its publication!”

“You know well, professor, that publishers always seek advice from the Board. Usually they follow that advice and refuse the paper without submitting it for external peer review!”

“Unless, I add a sound motivation! I am entitled to have the last word in such matters!”

“You are right, Professor, you have the right to reply, but remember that, once the verdict of the Board has been made, ignoring a negative advice from the Board of Peers to submit a publication, could have disciplinary consequences, as its content could be endangering the reputation of the University!”

“We are diverting from the subject! This discussion is not about my ideas, but about what is in the source documents.”

“The Board is convinced that this source document you refer to, is a forgery! A mock up! An invented story! There is no proof of its authenticity!”

“It is authentically Middle Aged!”

“Sure! But it is an invented story! Invented during the Middle Ages!”

“I am convinced it was based and largely copied from an older, authentic account!”

“Do not try to convince us, Professor, the Board has made up its decision already! It will advise not to publish! Based on sound considerations! The Board will report such to the Office of the Dean. We will furthermore add an advice to the Dean to prevent, or rather forbid you to do more research on this subject during the time you have to commit yourself to university work!”

“What about Academic Freedom?”

“Professor, Academic Freedom is an illusion!”

“In that case, I still can publish in a popularizing format. Without mentioning my affiliation to the University! My academic titles properly will make me sufficiently qualified to make it believable.”

“Professor Bersel, I am afraid I have to report that statement to the Office of the Dean too!”

(to be continued)

Well, well.... is this the Board?

 

[windar]

Well, well.... is this the Board?

View attachment 485931

They look bored...

 

[Loxuru]

PART 2 : AD 66

The Roman Empire, Rome, Nero’s circus.

Surreal!

Julia was hurried through the labyrinth of tunnels, together with tens of frightened people, anxious about what was about to happen to them. People shabbily dressed in the clothes they had been arrested in and which they had worn for days, some for two weeks. All the time they had been locked up in the dark dungeons down in the circus, without ever seeing open air.

“Run! Run!” the guards drove them to the exit, using their bullwhips.

At the end of the tunnel, there was light. Fresh air! At last, after days of living in the basements of the arena, in the humid smell of sweat and human excretions, in the stench of wild animals. The never ending stress of a crowded dungeon, where the distinction between days and nights had faded away, where disturbing noise was around all the time. But from the end of the tunnel, an even more disturbing and frightening noise was rolling in.

At the end of the tunnel, lay a pile of clothing. Guards ordered Julia to take off her tunic. Quickly! Instinctively she obeyed. She already had received two lashes underway in the tunnel. She pulled her filthy tunic over her head and dropped it on the pile. Then, only wearing a loincloth, she was rudely pushed into the open.

At the end of the tunnel was death!

The circus was fully crowded. The air was filled with the shouting of thousands of people. Thousands of people enjoying and cheering a gruesome spectacle.

Once outside, Julia felt as if the whole circus was falling upon her head. The crowded stands looked immensely high. Caligula’s statue and the obelisk towered threateningly above her head.

Julia looked around. Endless rows of wooden crosses stood in the blood saturated sand. People were dragged to the crosses and nailed to them by rude hands. More were already hanging, writhing in their pain. Others were waiting their fate. Some apathetically, their feelings already killed by the gruesome scene around them. Others raised threatening hands. Cursing. Imprecating. Everywhere in the circus, lamentations rose above the overall noise. Elder with hollow eyes, strong men in the prime of their life, women with looks at the verge of erupting frenzy. More people were brought in, and the number of erected crosses rapidly increased, under the capable hand of the executioners. More condemned were rudely drawn over the ground, taking away man from wife, father from son.

Julia was completely overwhelmed, crushed by the scene of horror around her. Barefoot in the warm sand, she dwelled around through the forest of death. There were tens of people around her. Soldiers, guards, executioners, condemned. But they all seemed to ignore her. She went around the spina of the circus. Behind the spina, more crossed were being erected. In the distance, she saw people being nailed. Their cries of pain were muffled by the overall noise. She went back to the other side, she felt safer there as if she would be able to hide in the wood of crosses, crosses cynically decorated with strings of colorful flowers. Julia did not dare to look up. Above her head, the numerous crucified hung writhing in their agony. Above her head, the blood-thirsty crowd kept roaring. She realized that she was nearly naked, exposed to the looks of thousands of people and she tried to ignore her feelings of shame.

It was surreal. Although in the arena, the condemned most probably outnumbered their guards and executioners, there was no sign of resistance. Apathetically, the condemned awaited their turn. Condemned men were calmly sitting on the ground, or standing next to a cross, talking to each other. They were discussing things, as if it still would matter. Women also gathered in groups, seeking an illusion of protection by each other. Other women dwelled aimlessly around, lonely, some completely naked, often in tears, until a soldier asked them, calmly, to go back to the others, what they obeyed immediately. Couples, man and wife, told each other the last that was to be said. A few, only a few condemned, sought spiritual comfort from an elderly priest, or sat praying together. Executioners and condemned moved among each other. Soldiers guarded the scene, preventing condemned to leave the arena. The executioners carried out their duties, grabbing one condemned after another, often picking out at random, or gathering a group to a row of crosses. Even then, most of the condemned followed them obediently to their grim fate.

Julia had witnessed numerous crucifixions in her life.

She had become used to witness the pain and the agony of the condemned. But this spectacle was far beyond the scale of what she had been used to attend. And even more frightening : on this occasion, she was not a spectator. She was on the wrong side this time. Her own crucifixion was only a matter of time.

(to be continued)

 

[Wragg]

PART 2 : AD 66

The Roman Empire, Rome, Nero’s circus.

Surreal!

Julia was hurried through the labyrinth of tunnels, together with tens of frightened people, anxious about what was about to happen to them. People shabbily dressed in the clothes they had been arrested in and which they had worn for days, some for two weeks. All the time they had been locked up in the dark dungeons down in the circus, without ever seeing open air.

“Run! Run!” the guards drove them to the exit, using their bullwhips.

At the end of the tunnel, there was light. Fresh air! At last, after days of living in the basements of the arena, in the humid smell of sweat and human excretions, in the stench of wild animals. The never ending stress of a crowded dungeon, where the distinction between days and nights had faded away, where disturbing noise was around all the time. But from the end of the tunnel, an even more disturbing and frightening noise was rolling in.

At the end of the tunnel, lay a pile of clothing. Guards ordered Julia to take off her tunic. Quickly! Instinctively she obeyed. She already had received two lashes underway in the tunnel. She pulled her filthy tunic over her head and dropped it on the pile. Then, only wearing a loincloth, she was rudely pushed into the open.

At the end of the tunnel was death!

The circus was fully crowded. The air was filled with the shouting of thousands of people. Thousands of people enjoying and cheering a gruesome spectacle.

Once outside, Julia felt as if the whole circus was falling upon her head. The crowded stands looked immensely high. Caligula’s statue and the obelisk towered threateningly above her head.

Julia looked around. Endless rows of wooden crosses stood in the blood saturated sand. People were dragged to the crosses and nailed to them by rude hands. More were already hanging, writhing in their pain. Others were waiting their fate. Some apathetically, their feelings already killed by the gruesome scene around them. Others raised threatening hands. Cursing. Imprecating. Everywhere in the circus, lamentations rose above the overall noise. Elder with hollow eyes, strong men in the prime of their life, women with looks at the verge of erupting frenzy. More people were brought in, and the number of erected crosses rapidly increased, under the capable hand of the executioners. More condemned were rudely drawn over the ground, taking away man from wife, father from son.

Julia was completely overwhelmed, crushed by the scene of horror around her. Barefoot in the warm sand, she dwelled around through the forest of death. There were tens of people around her. Soldiers, guards, executioners, condemned. But they all seemed to ignore her. She went around the spina of the circus. Behind the spina, more crossed were being erected. In the distance, she saw people being nailed. Their cries of pain were muffled by the overall noise. She went back to the other side, she felt safer there as if she would be able to hide in the wood of crosses, crosses cynically decorated with strings of colorful flowers. Julia did not dare to look up. Above her head, the numerous crucified hung writhing in their agony. Above her head, the blood-thirsty crowd kept roaring. She realized that she was nearly naked, exposed to the looks of thousands of people and she tried to ignore her feelings of shame.

It was surreal. Although in the arena, the condemned most probably outnumbered their guards and executioners, there was no sign of resistance. Apathetically, the condemned awaited their turn. Condemned men were calmly sitting on the ground, or standing next to a cross, talking to each other. They were discussing things, as if it still would matter. Women also gathered in groups, seeking an illusion of protection by each other. Other women dwelled aimlessly around, lonely, some completely naked, often in tears, until a soldier asked them, calmly, to go back to the others, what they obeyed immediately. Couples, man and wife, told each other the last that was to be said. A few, only a few condemned, sought spiritual comfort from an elderly priest, or sat praying together. Executioners and condemned moved among each other. Soldiers guarded the scene, preventing condemned to leave the arena. The executioners carried out their duties, grabbing one condemned after another, often picking out at random, or gathering a group to a row of crosses. Even then, most of the condemned followed them obediently to their grim fate.

Julia had witnessed numerous crucifixions in her life.

She had become used to witness the pain and the agony of the condemned. But this spectacle was far beyond the scale of what she had been used to attend. And even more frightening : on this occasion, she was not a spectator. She was on the wrong side this time. Her own crucifixion was only a matter of time.

(to be continued)

The Graf von Kreuzigung is living up to his name!

 

[Barbaria1]

PART 2 : AD 66

The Roman Empire, Rome, Nero’s circus.

Surreal!

Julia was hurried through the labyrinth of tunnels, together with tens of frightened people, anxious about what was about to happen to them. People shabbily dressed in the clothes they had been arrested in and which they had worn for days, some for two weeks. All the time they had been locked up in the dark dungeons down in the circus, without ever seeing open air.

“Run! Run!” the guards drove them to the exit, using their bullwhips.

At the end of the tunnel, there was light. Fresh air! At last, after days of living in the basements of the arena, in the humid smell of sweat and human excretions, in the stench of wild animals. The never ending stress of a crowded dungeon, where the distinction between days and nights had faded away, where disturbing noise was around all the time. But from the end of the tunnel, an even more disturbing and frightening noise was rolling in.

At the end of the tunnel, lay a pile of clothing. Guards ordered Julia to take off her tunic. Quickly! Instinctively she obeyed. She already had received two lashes underway in the tunnel. She pulled her filthy tunic over her head and dropped it on the pile. Then, only wearing a loincloth, she was rudely pushed into the open.

At the end of the tunnel was death!

The circus was fully crowded. The air was filled with the shouting of thousands of people. Thousands of people enjoying and cheering a gruesome spectacle.

Once outside, Julia felt as if the whole circus was falling upon her head. The crowded stands looked immensely high. Caligula’s statue and the obelisk towered threateningly above her head.

Julia looked around. Endless rows of wooden crosses stood in the blood saturated sand. People were dragged to the crosses and nailed to them by rude hands. More were already hanging, writhing in their pain. Others were waiting their fate. Some apathetically, their feelings already killed by the gruesome scene around them. Others raised threatening hands. Cursing. Imprecating. Everywhere in the circus, lamentations rose above the overall noise. Elder with hollow eyes, strong men in the prime of their life, women with looks at the verge of erupting frenzy. More people were brought in, and the number of erected crosses rapidly increased, under the capable hand of the executioners. More condemned were rudely drawn over the ground, taking away man from wife, father from son.

Julia was completely overwhelmed, crushed by the scene of horror around her. Barefoot in the warm sand, she dwelled around through the forest of death. There were tens of people around her. Soldiers, guards, executioners, condemned. But they all seemed to ignore her. She went around the spina of the circus. Behind the spina, more crossed were being erected. In the distance, she saw people being nailed. Their cries of pain were muffled by the overall noise. She went back to the other side, she felt safer there as if she would be able to hide in the wood of crosses, crosses cynically decorated with strings of colorful flowers. Julia did not dare to look up. Above her head, the numerous crucified hung writhing in their agony. Above her head, the blood-thirsty crowd kept roaring. She realized that she was nearly naked, exposed to the looks of thousands of people and she tried to ignore her feelings of shame.

It was surreal. Although in the arena, the condemned most probably outnumbered their guards and executioners, there was no sign of resistance. Apathetically, the condemned awaited their turn. Condemned men were calmly sitting on the ground, or standing next to a cross, talking to each other. They were discussing things, as if it still would matter. Women also gathered in groups, seeking an illusion of protection by each other. Other women dwelled aimlessly around, lonely, some completely naked, often in tears, until a soldier asked them, calmly, to go back to the others, what they obeyed immediately. Couples, man and wife, told each other the last that was to be said. A few, only a few condemned, sought spiritual comfort from an elderly priest, or sat praying together. Executioners and condemned moved among each other. Soldiers guarded the scene, preventing condemned to leave the arena. The executioners carried out their duties, grabbing one condemned after another, often picking out at random, or gathering a group to a row of crosses. Even then, most of the condemned followed them obediently to their grim fate.

Julia had witnessed numerous crucifixions in her life.

She had become used to witness the pain and the agony of the condemned. But this spectacle was far beyond the scale of what she had been used to attend. And even more frightening : on this occasion, she was not a spectator. She was on the wrong side this time. Her own crucifixion was only a matter of time.

(to be continued)

very well written ... breathless reading ... great description ... more please

 

[thehangingtree]

Well, well.... is this the Board?

View attachment 485931

It looks like your father and uncles...

 

[Barbaria1]

Well, well.... is this the Board?

View attachment 485931

It looks like your father and uncles...

I have seen that pic before ... isn't that from a Disney movie?

 

[Loxuru]

I have seen that pic before ... isn't that from a Disney movie?

Mary Poppins (1964)?

 

[Barbaria1]

Mary Poppins (1964)?

That's it!!! Tuppence in the bank, right?

 

[Loxuru]

very well written ... breathless reading ... great description ... more please

The Graf von Kreuzigung is living up to his name!

Thanks! I got my inspiration from looking at Jan Styka's famous Panorama “The martyrdom of Christians in Nero’ circus”

http://www.cruxforums.com/xf/threads/the-lost-panorama.5069/page-2

Now, before the Board of Peers and the Office of the Dean will frown upon me about my sources, in the thread, you will find a translation from a description of the panorama in 1902 (posted by Zephyros). I borrowed one paragraph from it and slightly altered it. In a later episode, there will be another one.

The next episode will be coming soon.

 

[Barbaria1]

Thanks! I got my inspiration from looking at Jan Styka's famous Panorama “The martyrdom of Christians in Nero’ circus”

http://www.cruxforums.com/xf/threads/the-lost-panorama.5069/page-2

Now, before the Board of Peers and the Office of the Dean will frown upon me about my sources, in the thread, you will find a translation from a description of the panorama in 1902 (posted by Zephyros). I borrowed one paragraph from it and slightly altered it. In a later episode, there will be another one.

The next episode will be coming soon.

Breathlessly waiting

 

[Loxuru]

PART 3 : AD 2071

The Faculty of Ancient History, the Dean’s Office.

“Professor Bersel, we have received the advice of the Board of Peers about the paper you intended to submit and we have examined it. I shall first inform you that the Office of the Dean considers this advice as a final verdict. If you will ever try to enforce the publication of this paper, the University will take disciplinary measures against you for harming its reputation. Am I clear!?”

“Yes, Sir!”

“And about your plans to submit the paper outside the current curriculum of scientific media and publish it in a popularized version, we will take the same position, even if you should not mention your affiliation to the University!”

“But…!”

“Do not be naïve, professor, even if you publish under your own name, the public will inevitably make a connection between you and our University. Your position here makes you…!”

“Now, I think that this goes too far, Sir!”

“Professor Bersel! The Board of Peers has come to the well-founded conclusion that this so called authentic texts, at least according to your opinion, are probably a forgery not older than the Thirteenth Century. Perhaps they are even younger. Right! This is an old document, but nothing more than that. No more value or significance should be added to it than being the fruit of the –be it rich - imagination of a Thirteenth or Fourteenth Century clerk. An invented text, a story, without relevance to the historical facts it describes, nothing more than that!”

“I protest, Sir! The Board is biased!”

“Biased!? I am very sorry, professor Bersel, but aren’t you biased yourself, incidentally?”

“Biased!? Me!? I beg your pardon Sir!? I have always kept up neutrality in my research!?”

“Professor, we all know your discussions in which you have expressed your displeasure on how female scientists have been dismissed in the past by the men dominated scientific communities.”

“That is true, but what does it have to do with…?”

“Professor Bersel, we think you are biased, because your source document is supposed to have been edited by a woman. An alledged female scholar from the Antiquity! Ridiculous! We think, professor, that you had got yourself carried away by some wishful thinking.”

“I protest, Sir! My personal opinion has nothing to do with the content of my scientific work! I always kept those strictly separated!”

“I am afraid, professor Bersel, that you are not able at all to separate those! You always tend to mix them up, but you cannot admit it to yourself!”

(to be continued)

 

[windar]

I have a real fondness for a Dean who takes a firm stance against misbehaving staff. I wonder what those "disciplinary measures" will involve?

 

[Wragg]

I have a real fondness for a Dean who takes a firm stance against misbehaving staff. I wonder what those "disciplinary measures" will involve?

 

[Barbaria1]

PART 3 : AD 2071

The Faculty of Ancient History, the Dean’s Office.

“Professor Bersel, we have received the advice of the Board of Peers about the paper you intended to submit and we have examined it. I shall first inform you that the Office of the Dean considers this advice as a final verdict. If you will ever try to enforce the publication of this paper, the University will take disciplinary measures against you for harming its reputation. Am I clear!?”

“Yes, Sir!”

“And about your plans to submit the paper outside the current curriculum of scientific media and publish it in a popularized version, we will take the same position, even if you should not mention your affiliation to the University!”

“But…!”

“Do not be naïve, professor, even if you publish under your own name, the public will inevitably make a connection between you and our University. Your position here makes you…!”

“Now, I think that this goes too far, Sir!”

“Professor Bersel! The Board of Peers has come to the well-founded conclusion that this so called authentic texts, at least according to your opinion, are probably a forgery not older than the Thirteenth Century. Perhaps they are even younger. Right! This is an old document, but nothing more than that. No more value or significance should be added to it than being the fruit of the –be it rich - imagination of a Thirteenth or Fourteenth Century clerk. An invented text, a story, without relevance to the historical facts it describes, nothing more than that!”

“I protest, Sir! The Board is biased!”

“Biased!? I am very sorry, professor Bersel, but aren’t you biased yourself, incidentally?”

“Biased!? Me!? I beg your pardon Sir!? I have always kept up neutrality in my research!?”

“Professor, we all know your discussions in which you have expressed your displeasure on how female scientists have been dismissed in the past by the men dominated scientific communities.”

“That is true, but what does it have to do with…?”

“Professor Bersel, we think you are biased, because your source document is supposed to have been edited by a woman. An alledged female scholar from the Antiquity! Ridiculous! We think, professor, that you had got yourself carried away by some wishful thinking.”

“I protest, Sir! My personal opinion has nothing to do with the content of my scientific work! I always kept those strictly separated!”

“I am afraid, professor Bersel, that you are not able at all to separate those! You always tend to mix them up, but you cannot admit it to yourself!”

(to be continued)

I have a real fondness for a Dean who takes a firm stance against misbehaving staff. I wonder what those "disciplinary measures" will involve?

View attachment 486288

Men!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!