Mentor - Tape 5

(Beep. Music fades in.)

I do take some pleasure in your downfall. I shouldn’t, I know. That’s more than a bit cold and uncharitable of me. But in the face of so many horrible things in this world, at least this one went right

(Music fades out. Beep. Music fades in).

I remember when you tried to essentially rewrite one of my papers. Do you remember the one? I was invited to present at one of those small, mini conferences prestigious universities hold just to show off their undergraduate and graduate students. Well, select undergraduate students. We aren’t on the same job market as the grad students, but we could be some day, and our alma mater, in its generosity, decided to stack every hand of cards in our favor that it could.

It was still a great honor, though. So when I was selected over some of your other students, the students you had more carefully instructed and molded in your image… Well, you weren’t pleased. I swear I saw your lip twitch in utter disgust. So when you offered to look over the talk I drafted, the paper I would be presented, I knew the mindset you were in. 

But I still wanted to trust you, and if you hadn’t rewritten every single word, I might have gone with it, just to please you. Not that you even bothered to show up for my talk. All things considered, I had to go with my version. What choice did I have? I mean, the version you gave me literally wasn’t mine. But I didn’t want to tell you that. 

(Music fades out and new music fades in)

It started with a hug. And then you offered me the sort of maternal warmth that I had always wanted. But it was conditional, and that was familiar to me. Office hours when students are supposed to have a chance to exercise their own thoughts in a safe context were never like that between us. You would twist things. And I’m sure you would physically twist me if you could. Just twist the life right out of me.

I remember another time when you wanted me to rework one of my essays for submission into a journal. And I did--following your advice--and when I was rejected because of course I was rejected, there were many things wrong with the idea, you criticized me for having it. Not for going along with your plan but for having the idea outright Because apparently it was mine all along. 

Or when you did find out that I presented my version of the paper, you tried to make me believe that it was always your hope that I would do as much, and I was mislead by my own insecurities. Only to come to at the last possible moment because your wisdom had finally sunk in. It sounds so cartoonish. Your lies were so outlandish, so easy to spot, and your lies almost grew more credible from that. It seemed impossible to deny them to your face. Childish and ill-advised with the potential of costing me so much. 

Sure, seeds were sown. And I didn’t want them, but pulling them up seemed to risk the entire garden. And I was ready to swear that I needed that products of that field. Even if my own damnation was waiting in the soul. 

(Music fades out and new music fades in)

On the other hand, your graduate student was gentle and kind. She made me feel cared for and valued. She made me think there were reasons or merit to my existence. After all, she drew relief from my presence. I did her a service. Or I improved the world by making her happy. I didn’t care which one it was.

I couldn’t be with her back then. I wasn’t ready, but I could make her smile. I could brighten up her day, and there was a victory in that, however small. But i in theory I could do more, right? I could try to take you down.

(Music fades out and new music fades in)

I am haunted by the fact that I didn’t take you out right then. For the sake of everyone who might have come after me. I hadn’t been away from college for all that long, but it’s long enough, I guess, for you to have a couple more victims. Maybe only one. But one is too many. Far too many.

I didn’t know what to do at the time. I was young. Admittedly somewhat dumb. But I guess, clueless is a more generous interpretation. I couldn’t take you on directly. Even when I knew the lies were lies, even when the viper that you were had a grip around me, and it would have only saved my life to get away, I was frozen. I didn’t know what to do. I would rather suffocate, apparently. After all it was the path of least resist.

But it wasn’t going to end with me. It could never end with me. Unless I willed that end. Or at least laid the foundation for it.

So I turned to the internet. Planted the seeds of my discontent amongst the anonymous forums our students frequented, and they nourished by those who had always found you a bit off and until those who had also suffered in a lesser but still unjustified way at your hands could start to tend to these seedlings.

And it wasn’t much. But it broke through the facade you put forth as this unabashedly good figure for the students. It might have made some take pause before they signed up for a class or gave you any control over their lives. When it came time to select faculty advisors for those student programs, suddenly, you were out of the running. And did it come without warning? One day, a sure thing and the next one gone.

I can’t know why he did what he did. But maybe it was because I printed out all the forum threads and shoved them under his door. Who can say? Well, he would say. Do you want to ask him?

(Music fades out and new music fades in)

This student who you knew was starting to pry herself free from you, she was working on some important papers, building her career and laying work onto a promising subfield. And you wanted to be sure you could pin your name onto all of her articles, only as a co-author, of course. (Sarcastically) Because that would be the most generous thing you could do for her right? Give her a chance in the spotlight, but we would all know that as a senior faculty member, you had done most of the work, and you were just helping her get a headstart on the publishing front. Right? Of course that’s what happened. You were helping. You were always, always helping your students. Until you weren’t.

(Normally) You bullied her into accepting that arrangement before, but she had to sign onto this plan before she got an editor involved. Before anyone else knew about this paper. So you needed me to warn you. Because you knew that trying to get on that paper after the fact it was a huge risk to you. The things you would have to do to get your way at that point… Well, that would go so poorly for you. She wasn’t even on campus those weeks, so you couldn’t ask her in person or corner her I should say.

And I knew about that paper. Not because the dreams told me, but because she did. And I didn’t tell you. And your pride demand that you take the risk, send out those abusive emails to her that you made her swear to delete after the fact. And she gave you her word. But when you try to beat someone down to that point, well, they don’t have anything to give you. The idea of their word means next to nothing. She didn’t those emails. And even after all these years, your IT department was able to verify that you were the one to send them.

She just needed a bit of a nudge. That was all. Encouragement to do what she always wanted to do. What needed to be done. 

(Music fades out and new music fades in)

But I hope there are no hard feelings between the two of us. So hey, you know, I hope you do have fun with what comes next. You should get a hobby. Or two.

(Music fades out. Beep.)

The Oracle of Dusk is a Miscellany Media Studios Production. It is written, produced, performed, and edited by MJ Bailey with music licensed from the Sounds like an Earful Music Supply. If you like the show, please consider leaving a review, tipping through our Ko-Fi account, subscribing on Patreon, or telling your friends about it. And check out Aishi Online, the story of the voice you know all too well.