Skip to main content

52. As Professor Sherman delved deeper into the lesson

As Professor Sherman delved deeper into the lesson, he moved seamlessly between topics—explaining the neutral plane, pinpoint deflection, and the behavior of cantilever beams. He even touched on the design of aircraft wings, connecting the intricate forces at play in engineering with the broader concepts of material strength and stability. The lecture flowed like a current, carrying Ted and the rest of the class through a web of technical details.

But as the lesson wound to a close, Sherman paused. The classroom, filled with the quiet hum of pens scribbling notes, seemed to quieten in anticipation. Ted’s attention, still partly tethered to the earlier thoughts about the two Shermans, suddenly snapped back to the present as he caught Sherman’s eye.

Sherman looked at him with an almost knowing smile, the words that followed carrying an odd weight. "Know thyself, Ted," he said softly, his tone shifting from the mechanical precision of the lecture to something more introspective. "Know your mind. A part of us never dies. You live after death. And shear force travels with you there."

Ted blinked, the words sinking in like a slow, distant echo. For a moment, the classroom seemed to fade away, and all he could hear was the hum of those strange, profound words. Shear force, traveling with you after death? The thought was as bizarre as it was captivating, and Ted couldn’t help but wonder what Sherman truly meant by it.

The professor’s smile lingered for a moment before he turned back to the board, continuing with the practical aspects of the lecture as if nothing had happened. But Ted, his mind still racing, couldn’t shake the sensation that those words were more than just an abstract metaphor. They seemed to carry something deeper—something that transcended the rigid world of engineering principles.

As the class wrapped up, Ted gathered his things, feeling the weight of the books in his bag again, as if they were now part of something larger—something he couldn’t quite define. The day’s lesson, both in the classroom and in his own mind, left him with more questions than answers, and the strange connection between his two Shermans only grew stronger.


Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

64. Ted’s trip to Kingston was a turning point in his budding engineering journey.

Ted’s trip to Kingston was a turning point in his budding engineering journey. It had been an event he had looked forward to for weeks—a gathering of the brightest minds in design and innovation at Kingston University. The annual engineering design exhibition was known for its competitive atmosphere and the prestige it offered to students who could showcase their talent. Ted’s entry was a structural design project that combined theoretical rigor with practical ingenuity. His model of a modular suspension bridge, designed to adapt to varying terrain and load conditions, was the result of countless sleepless nights, meticulous calculations, and a steady stream of trial-and-error experimentation. The day at Kingston had started with nerves. As Ted set up his display, he felt the weight of expectation. Students and professors from across the region had gathered, their projects equally impressive. Some featured sleek robotics, others intricate fluid dynamics simulations. But Ted’s bridge st...
Post a Comment
Read more

69. Ted’s Night at Egg 27

Ted’s Night at Egg 27 Ted pushed open the heavy front door of the student house, his shoulders weighed down by the exhaustion of another relentless day. The hinges groaned in protest, an eerie whisper against the night’s stillness. As the door shut behind him with a soft thud, familiar scents wrapped around him—the stale aroma of old books from Room 1 on the ground floor, the sharp tang of instant noodles, and the damp musk wafting from the upstairs kitchen. It was the unchanging symphony of student survival. He paused for a moment behind the closed door, bracing himself for whatever chaos the kitchen held tonight. The air above seemed charged, a silent storm brewing. The stairs loomed ahead, each step a reminder of the ever-present minefield of Egg 27’s communal life. Taking a deep breath, he ran his fingers through his disheveled hair, trying to untangle both his locks and his thoughts. The day had drained him—lectures that stretched into eternity, group projects built on forced enth...
Post a Comment
Read more