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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Ironmaster" data-source="post: 2615735" data-attributes="member: 36274">Wednesday, Sept. 2, 1931 - 10amHarold Douglass, tenured professor of Archaeology at M.U., had heard a disturbing rumor.  Disturbing, if one understood the nature of academia and scientific inquiry, that is.  Rumor had found it's way to his desk in the person of A.E. Carlisle, an annoyingly predatory new hire who happened to prowl about the walnut panelled corridors of learning sponging about for gossip.  This morning, early as it was, he was smirking, perched on the corner of Douglass' office desk.  The clock read 8am, and Harold's only duties that day were an afternoon class, and a meeting regarding funding after that.  Carlisle had confided that Tibor Gliere, that dotty old fool, had gotten himself in some sort of legal entanglement in Athens, and that the new adjunct, the Italian fellow Solari, had been informed directly, instead of Gliere doing the responsible thing, and contacting his department.  Gliere's work with ancient artifacts was delicate, and anything that could embarrass the department and interfere with funding should be handled by those concerned, instead of a math professor.After heavy hinting and shuffling of papers, Carlisle realized he had done his duty to Discordia, and flown off looking for more bodies to hover about, and Douglass had made up his mind to inform Solari that archaeology business needed to be handled by archeologists.  He had his number about.  Yes, there it was, Solari's home telephone number...</blockquote>

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