The Collegeworld

Thomas was not having a good day. It had started like they always did: wake up after not enough hours of sleep, shuffle to the shower, jerk off, worry about cum clogging the drain, get dressed in the clothes that should be replaced, gravitate toward the cafeteria for quick, unhealthy breakfast, and go to the class.

Since it was Tuesday, afternoon would be dedicated for laboratory work. That's where the trouble started. See, Thomas had a crush. On his lab partner. And today, this fine Tuesday, he had decided it was time to finally ask Christine out.

She didn't say no to his face, but her not-yes amounted to the same thing.

"Thomas, I don't think that's a good idea since we're lab buddies," she'd said.

Thomas hated himself for trying. It would have been better to resign to do nothing. That's exactly what he vowed to do. Disregard females; acquire currency. Thus, he was furiously doing his math homework. He'd need to ace those classes to get into one of the big tech firms. Besides, the math TA was hot, and it would be cool to impress her... Not that it mattered any more, since his vow of scholarly pursuits prohibited any such thoughts.

He was sitting in a dusty, obscure room in the library, as far away from everyone as possible. He was facing the corridor so he could see anyone approaching, and bail out before they got close. In addition to the corridor, there was just one other entrance, an old steel door that had never been opened as far as he knew. It wasn't a fire escape, so it must have been some maintenance tunnel.

His frustration grew as he realized that he was stuck on a math problem. And the deadline for submission was less than three hours away. Nothing he tried worked. Was it an impossible task, there to see who was smart enough to just disregard it? Angered, Thomas decided to do something he would never, under normal circumstances, even consider. Now, his pencil moved with determination, with a laser focus of someone who had nothing to lose.

He divided by zero.

As soon as "x / 0" appeared on the paper, Thomas heard an audible click. He looked, and saw bright white light shine from the crack of the slightly open mystery door.

"What the heck?" he uttered to himself. Forgetting his homework, he walked to the door and looked insider. The corridor was metallic white, brightly lit. Nothing like the cobweb-covered dirt-colored door. Something was off here. He walked in, his unfinished homework forgotten on the table.

The corridor went on and on, which made no sense. If his sense of direction was correct, he was now approximately thirty yards outside the walls, on the third floor. And there sure as heck wasn't a tunnel floating in the air. Finally, there was a door to the right. "Control Room 8", the sign said. Maybe he could get some answers there.

The room was empty of people, but Thomas barely noticed, since it was full of screens. The room was wide, running alongside the wall for some twenty feet. The long side was completely covered in monitors, hundreds of them packed tightly in a neat matrix. There was only a single chair, mounted on some sort of a rail that ran in front of the screens.

He glanced back at the door. He probably shouldn't be here. If it was something to do with campus security, he could get in real trouble for looking at security cameras. Unfortunately, his curiosity wouldn't let him leave, not now. Fortunately, there was a white, official-looking suit hanging next to the door. It wasn't what he thought campus security wore, but if it hung here, it meant it must be what they did. He took the suit, and only then realized it was a full-body suit. Kind of like those hazmat suits. It even had a headcover, complete with a facemask. There was also a white canvas bag on the floor near the suit, and he made a note to check it out later.

The good thing about it was that should someone peek in, it would be impossible to see who was inside the suit. The bad thing about it was that it was creepy as hell. Why would a control room have a suit like that?

Pushing apocalyptic scenarios out of his head Thomas sat on the chair. Every monitor seemed to have something going on. One showed a professor writing on the blackboard, another a student sitting in a class. Third showed someone sleeping in a dorm bed, in her underwear, blanket in a pile on the floor. What the...? Cameras in the dorm rooms? This was some dark stuff.

It got even worse when he noticed that every screen, under the screen number, had smaller text that displayed the name of each person on the screen. "Cain, Deckard" said the one with the professor. "Cajun, Rodrigo", said the one with the student, who was now walking on a corridor, the camera following him.

Okay. It was theoretically possible that the campus was peppered with hidden cameras. But a camera that followed you when you were walking on a corridor? Something wasn't right here.

Despite being thoroughly creeped out, he was intrigued. Cameras watching people? For an introvert such as him that had always been a secret dream of some sort. He was an observer by nature. Looking at everyday people doing everyday things could be entertaining. Sometimes he went to coffee shops and just listened to people talk about their daily nonsense, while he pretended to work on something.

He was about to start tapping his fingers on the armrest of the chair when he noticed it wasn't just an armrest. There was a small touchscreen and nothing else.

The screen said "Name?", an empty box, and a keyboard under the box. Could it be what he thought it was?

There was only one right choice to try at first.

"Lee, Christine". Enter.

The screen in front of him changed, and there she was, his Christine. She was sitting in her dorm room, working on something. Probably the same math homework he couldn't finish. The camera showed her from a forty-five degree front angle, slightly upward. If there was a camera there, she would have to notice. Gosh, she was beautiful. She was dressed in a casual t-shirt, what seemed like pajama pants, and her black hair was in a no-nonsense ponytail. Thomas was hypnotized just looking at her face, looking at her working.

He didn't know how much time had passed when she put down her pencil, stretched her arms, and got up. The camera turned to show her from behind as she took a towel, checked herself on the mirror, and walked out the door.

The camera floated about three feet behind her, around the same height as the top of her head. It wasn't possible, but Thomas didn't really care. Christine lived in an all-girl dorm so he had never seen her in very casual clothing. Thomas gulped audibly when she opened the door to the showers, and the camera followed. There was another girl in the room, doing some sort of skincare or makeup or whatever it is girls did at the bathroom mirrors. Christine chose the nearest stall, walked in, and closed the door. The lock clicked, and the text on the door turned to say "OCCUPIED". And the camera, after a moment of hesitation, followed her in.

Her shirt was already coming off. Her back was bare, skin smooth as silk. She didn't have a bra. Too bad the camera was still behind her, giving him only the faintest of glimpses of the curve of her breast. When she bent down to take off her pants, Thomas saw her left breast from the side, just before his attention locked in on her ass. It was glorious, round and firm. Oh, if only he could touch it. If only he hadn't messed up everything by asking her out in an inappropriate setting.

His stomach turned. At least before he'd been able to look at her bright eyes and her pretty smile, joke with her, discuss future med school plans, complain about the professor. Now, all that was in jeopardy.

Thomas realized he had zoned out for a moment, and cursed. Christine was showering. He saw her turn to face the camera, but it was pointless. The stall was full of steam, making everything very blurry. So these guys can design flying, invisible cameras, but can't see through fog? Still, he enjoyed seeing her face, eyes closed as water ran down her skin, dripping to the rest of her body that was hidden from his view. She looked relaxed, massaging her scalp with her fingers, and Thomas thought it was more intimate than any amount of skin she could show.

His trance was broken when the door to the control room opened, and someone stepped in.

"Hey, you."

His heart jumped, and he turned to face the newcomer, who was dressed in an identical white suit, his face hidden behind the full-face visor.

"Y-yes?"

"Is something wrong with that agent? The log says you've been looking at it for an hour now."

"Uh... I'm...not sure?"

"Okay. Well, what are you waiting for? Flag it for maintenance and go check it out."

"Oh yeah. Right. Thanks."

"Anything else to report? Anyone missing?"

"Missing? No, I don't think so."

"You don't think so? Well, when did you run the scan the last time?"

"Erm. An hour ago. I ran it an hour ago before I started tracking the behavior of this...agent."

"Oh. Okay, that's good. Just run it again before you leave."

"Sure thing. Thanks again. Anything else?"

"Nope. Sorry for barging in like that. I didn't realize anyone was supposed to be here today, with the holidays and the flu going around. I thought I'd come check everything is fine. Thanks for making it today."

"You got it, chief."

###

Phew. Okay. Breathe deep. Again. A few more times, like fifty or so.

After the fiftieth exhalation he was pretty sure he wouldn't be sent to a CIA prison to rot until the end of his days. Just to be sure he should probably do what the guy told him to do. It might look suspicious if the logs, whatever they were, didn't show anything about that, and this guy might start to ask questions about who was here today.

First, maintenance. The touchscreen had a menu for action items, and "MAINTENANCE" was easy to find from the applicable sub-menu. The text on the screen changed to say "Lee, Christine, flagged for maintenance on 11/11. Assigned to technician 2077." She had dried herself and was dressing up in her room, all of the interesting body parts already covered.

Thomas got up from the chair and went to open the white bag next to the door. It said "2077" in large letters on the side, and "Maintenance" on smaller letters underneath. Okay, so this would likely be the maintenance equipment for tech 2077, i.e. him.

Next, the other guy had said something about missing people? Thomas went back to the chair, fiddled with the menus a little bit, and finally found "MISSING PEOPLE SCAN" there and pressed it. He gave Christine another glance, but she had already dressed up and was now drying her hair. A missed opportunity, but as long as he didn't get thrown in a jail, there could be other opportunities. Other people to observe. Other activities, other non-steamy environments.

His daydreaming was interrupted by a chime from the chair's screen.

"ONE (1) MISSING PEOPLE FOUND!"

Thomas clicked, and lo and behold, there it was. "Anderson, Thomas, last seen 2 hour(s) 16 minute(s) ago."

That was him. It made sense that since he was here, wherever "here" was, he would be missing. He confirmed by looking himself up on another screen, leaving Christine on the neighboring screen, and he saw a view of the library table with his homework, and a red text "Anderson, Thomas, MISSING!".

Shit. It seemed like he couldn't just hang out here all day every day, like he had considered, watching people go about their business, especially their private business.

His mood was lifted when he found a button "IGNORE FOR 24 HOURS!" in his sub-menu. The warning went away, and he re-ran the missing people list just to be sure. Zero missing people found.

There was a very pressing matter, though. His homework was due in thirty minutes.

###

At nine fifty eight Thomas submitted his homework scans via the on-line system. He had skipped the tough question, and he felt like he got most of the rest somewhat right. The library was quiet, even in the main room where he now was. At his feet were his own bag, as well as a large, white duffel bag, with the suit stuffed inside. He died to know what actually was in the bag, but he didn't want to go to his dorm room where his well-meaning but nosy roommate would ask questions. Instead, he skulked to a remote corner cubicle in the main room, one with a good view of anyone approaching.

There, he started unpacking the bag. Some of the tools were familiar to him. Screwdrivers, a crowbar, duct tape, a knife. Next were what seemed like medical equipment. Syringes, plastic funnels, and plenty of other items he couldn't identify, all in single-wrapped plastic containers. Among the more curious items were two of what could only be described as headbands from the future. They were made out of some sort of chrome-colored elastic material, and Thomas could feel wires inside. He wasn't about to put one on himself before knowing what, exactly, they were. Finally, there was a sort of a hand-held device, similar to a tablet computer.

The tablet was already on. "Technician 2077: One incomplete task. Due to start in twenty two (22) minutes."

Oh, so there was a time limit. Shit.

There were two buttons below. "Inform supervisor of a delay" and "Mark job as started". He wasn't going to inform anyone of anything, so he clicked the other button.

"Error: Not in proximity of the target agent: Lee, Christine. Please move closer and try again. Start navigation?"

Crap. He would, somehow, have to get close to Christine to stop the timer. How was he going to do that? She lived in all-girl dorm. In fact, he didn't even know if she was there. At least the computer offered to take care of that with some sort of a navigation. Resigning to a life in a CIA prison, he clicked the navigate button. The screen changed to a map of the campus, and draw a line for him to follow. "Estimated time to destination: Fifteen (15) minutes."

Not much of a margin, so he'd better get going. He knew where the dorm was, luckily.

###

After twelve minutes of rapid jogging while carrying the maintenance bag, Thomas found himself at the front entrance of the dorm. At least he'd had the foresight to leave his own bag in the lockers in the library. The computer wasn't interested in the front entrance and told him to go around the back. He would have no change through the entrance either way, so he just followed the navigation instructions. Behind the building was a obscure door, partially hidden behind some bushes, and colored very similar to the wall. It looked like it hadn't been opened in the past hundred or so years.

As Thomas approached, he heard the door click open. The hinges looked like there was more rust than metal left, but still, the door opened without a sound, revealing another surgical white corridor behind. He closed the door behind him and started to make way toward where the arrow was pointing. He was pretty sure Christine's room was on the second floor. He may or may not have had stalked her window a little bit in the past.

So, he was very confused, when the computer claimed he was at his destination, without him ever stepping on stairs or an elevator. The corridor had been a maze of twists and turns, but he was positive there had been no change of elevation.

The door that was supposed to lead to his destination came, CIA bless, with a peep hole, like those on most apartment doors. Only this was designed to be viewed toward inside of the apartment. He looked through and saw a well-lit dorm room with Christine and her roommate, a pretty, tall girl who may had been called Lara, chatting. Uh, he couldn't just barge in with the two of them awake, could he?

"Technician 2077: One incomplete task. Due to start in three (3) minutes," the screen said. It didn't seem like the girls would be asleep in three minutes, and he still didn't have any clue what the maintenance would even entail.

Frantically, Thomas started to go through the menus on the computer. In fourty six seconds, he found the help menu. In further thirteen he had found the summary about maintenance protocols. In thirty two more, he had dressed in the white space-hazmat-whatever-suit again. When the countdown showed nineteen seconds he opened the door and stepped into the dorm room, closing the door behind him.

###

The girls continued talking, and Thomas heard what they were talking about. It was something about some TV series that he didn't know about. He wasn't interested, either. His brain was trying to process what had just happened. He'd stepped in through a closet door into the dorm room. He was in a clear view of both of the girls, and neither paid him any notice.

"Warning! Automatic supervisor call initiated in five (5) seconds. Four..."

Crap. With all the speed he could muster in the suit he managed to tap to activate the maintenance call, the proximity sensor finally happy. "Two (2) hours left in the maintenance window," the screen now said.

Phew.

In theory he knew how to proceed now, thought the idea of actually doing it terrified him. He would have to take the headbands and put them on the girls' heads. The manual said it very nonchalantly, with the same tone that discussed walking in front of people with the suit. Somehow, he was invisible. Presumably this would somehow extend to also him putting stuff on the girls' heads.

They were talking about guys now. Lara was talking about some Jason and their date last weekend. Thomas very much didn't want to hear Christine say anything about him asking her out, so he swallowed his fear and took out two headbands from the bag. He approached Lara, who was now describing Jason trying to kiss him after the movie, which she found distasteful and against her Catholic faith. He was standing directly between Lara and Christine, but the girl just kept looking at him, or rather, through him, like it was nothing. Cold sweat rising through his skin, Thomas put the band on Lara's head, gently stretching it to fit around her forehead.

As soon as it snapped in place, she quieted down.

"Christine, I'm going to bed. Can you turn off the light?"

"Sure, yeah. Is everything okay? Did Jason do something bad?"

"Nothing like that, I just got suddenly very sleepy."

Christine rose, turned off the light, sat down on her own bed, and received a headband of her own. There was no reaction even though his hand surely touched her forehead as he was fumbling with the band.

Without saying anything she lied down, closed her eyes, and fell asleep.

###

Okay, now he had no idea what to actually do here. He'd quickly skimmed through the logistics of how to get to the maintenance site, but the actual maintenance checklist was apparently custom-tailored to each case. So, with hands shaking equally from nervousness and adrenaline, and more than a little aroused, he tapped at the tablet to show the maintenance steps.

"Maintenance" was not a good word in this case, really. It was more like a check-up. Thomas swallowed, and got to work. He turned the lights back on, praying that the girls would stay fast asleep.

As the first step, he had to undress Christine. She was lying on her back, arms on the side. The shape of her breasts was clearly visible through the t-shirt, and Thomas couldn't resist touching them. He started very lightly, afraid she would wake up at any second. His finger brushed against the fabric, feeling the mound beneath. She didn't flinch. Her breathing was the same as before, deep and regular. Thomas touched again, this time with more determination. Christine's breast was soft and round. Her nipple, clearly visible, was hardening between his fingers. He felt his own manhood harden to match.

Trying to keep his mind somewhat focused, he pushed his most explicit thoughts away and started rolling up Christine's shirt. He barely managed to get the hem above her breasts, and stopped to admire the view. She was petite and fairly slim. Her breasts were a good match to her build, youthful and perky. Swallowing the desire to behave utterly dishonorably, he finished pulling off her shirt, tossing it to the bed. Undressing a functionally unconscious person graciously is not easy, even if said person is not heavy. Thomas sat down next to her, taking deep breaths. His eyes wandered to Lara. She was wearing track shorts and a loose top with no bra underneath.