#and my course for thought ends on a black african dad telling you common sense

[nightguide]

NO AGONY IN WORSHIPPING IMMATERIALS OF IMAGINATION: WHAT YOU SEE IS WHAT YOU GET

LEMME ANSWUR ALL UR QUESTIONS IN THE IMAGINTERNET SEXPLORER TO NO HOMO COMMON DUECE HYPERSENSITIVITY BONER COMPLEX IN YOUR MOFONE COMBO U WANNA TRY IN FIGHT LIKE A SUPER-SAIYAN IN THE KING OF FIGHTERS (WHERE THE PARTY IS AT)

U 8NT THERE NO MO', THAT IS A GUILLOTINE BUZZA- AN I H8 U FOR NOT PICKING ME UP ON UR G8TORADE SODA-FEST WITHOUT U HINTING ON A COMIC BOOK RETURN (HOW MUCH U H8 THANOS IN REAL TIME)

WANNA BET. ARC OF ACE VENTURA, THOT DETECTIVE, NO BRAINS BUT BRILLIANCE, HECK JUST PERSUADE YOUR CASHIER FOR THE SAME GOAL YOU HAVE IN MIND AND BUILD THAT SHIT WITH HIM (YOUR CLASH OF CLANS FORTRESS FOR FREE YIPEEE TAX AFFAIRS WITHOUT YOU EVEN 'COMMITTING A CRIME, IF YOU HAVE YOUR BEST FRIEND ON MIND') YOU SAVE, NOT ONLY TAX PAYERS PROFITS (CELL PHONE MONASTERIES IN ENGLAND NOW A CHURCH FOR CRIME BOSSES LA TO GO LAS VEGAS IN JUNE SOMEWHERE IN 2025 FOR A FREE LA TRIP NOWWWWW) THAT HE (OG MASTER UP THERE, CAN SQUAT INSTEAD OF STANDING UP LIKE THAT WITH THAT BOUFFANT YOU CALL A 'HEADDRESS FANNCY' AND LA UR GARMENTS UP IN 1972 IN THE EAST O ENGLAND (WHERE U THINK THE PARTY IS @ BUT HATE IT NOW CUZ U HAVE THE SAME DEMONIC MONK ASKING YOU FOR FREE COINS)

GODLESS ARCHITECT

ATKINSON JUST LET HIM DIE FOR OLD TIMES SAKE BUT THE OCCASIONAL DRAWSTRING THEORY IS NOW ABLE TO BE USED BY BLACK ARTISTS TODAY (ALREADY MADE FAMOUS) THAT THE WORD 'PUSSY' COMES FROM THIS GUY ONLY, CUZ HE DID NOT LIE BETWEEN THE WORDS AND TIME, THIS GUY IS MARRIED TO A BLACK WOMAN IN REAL LIFE AND SHE WAS LIKE 'OKAY (TALKS TO THE ACTUAL DOCTOR IRL), THIS AINT GONNA HURT A BIT' BUT SHE HAS A BABY-LIKE CUTESY RELATIONSHIP WITH HIM THAT EVEN RA HAS NO HEART TO FIGHT HIS WILL TO FART (HENCE THE FCKIN COMIC RELIEF MADE HIM ABLE TO GASLIGHT SCREENS CUZ OF HIS GONORRHEA IRL)

U GOTTA BE A SUCKER FOR HORROR MOVIES FOR COMPANIONS TO SEE THIS HIGHLY ACCURATE SHIT IN REAL TIME, AND NOT BELIEVE IN A GHOST ACCORDINATION (OFTEN SEERS, FORTUNE TELLERS IN THE 90'S THAT WERE ABLE TO LIVE LONG ENOUGH (IMMORTAL PROBABLY) CUZ TIMING OF HORROR WAS NEUTRAL TO NONE, IF FAMOUS, YOU CAN GET AWAY WITH EVERYTHING BY STARRING IN YOUR OWN IMAGINATION BY BEING IN A MOVIE FOR A LONG TIME (USUALLY MEMORY ADAPTATION IS THE WAY TO TRAVEL IN THE 2020'S (SLEEPER SONIC SCREWDRIVER OF ANOTHER DIMENSION) AND THOSE WHO ARE NOT FAMOUS, ARE MEMORISED BY ROLE TO BE IN THE 80'S (SO THEY HAD HELP FROM CELEBRITIES THERE SINCE FAME DOES NOT GO INTO HUNGER (RAMADAN IS WHERE THEY END IT) TO MAKE SURE THE COMPANION AND DOCTOR HAS NO TROUBLE IN REAL TIME SINCE ACCURACY FALLS TO THE TRUE DOCTOR (LINNA RIAZ) AND WHY THEY ARE LEGACY TOUCHED (OFTEN SO BY TAROT CALLS FROM THEIR KIDS FROM THE FUTURE IN CONNECTION TO HATE CHAINS TO THEIR LIVES BEING DESTROYED BY NAZAR QUALITY (CAUSE OF LOSS IS OFTEN SEEN FROM THE WAY OF LIFE LIVED THAN THE LATTER SO THEIR FATHERS KNEW ABOUT THE WAY THEY WERE TREATED IF THEY WERE NOT AROUND FOR GOOD MEASURE (THE WORD 'IF' IS CURSED IN THE 2020'S MORE THAN THE 90'S KNOWING THE END FROM LINNA RIAZ TELLING THE STORY FOR THE WORLD TO HEAR AND LOVE HER FOR (ONE OF THE VICTIMS OF WITNESS TRIALS MADE FAMOUS BY HEART AND TIME (HOW SHE WAS PERCIEVED FROM HER MOTHER IN THE END (LOSS OF THOUGHT TO BREAK INTO DUE TO HER AUTISM)

TIME TRAVELLERS HAVE THEORIES OVER WHAT IT'S LIKE TO SEE AN ALIEN BUT IT'S THE WAY THE WORLD KILLS THE MIND FIRST TIME (HORROR KILLS THE WORLD THEY USED TO HAVE, SO ITS NOT ACTING ANYMORE)

KEANU REEVES GHOST RECON

DOES NOT HEAR HIMSELF IS HOW HE CANNOT GET WORDS (TRANSLATOR) THAT EVEN ROWAN ATKINSON VIBED WITH THAT AND SAID 'DEFAULT. BRO LEARN UR CALLIGRAPHY' (SETS HIM STR8 ON BROADWAY 30 YEARS TO COME)

HA. EVEN MADE FUN OF HIM SINCE HE CALLED IT QUITS (BRO GO WATCH YOUR FIRST LIFE ON MR. BEAN)

NO FORMS OF BURPING OR REASONABLE GAS TO GIVE IS HOW HE SAID 'NCUTI GATWA DOES NOT WANT YOU TO FART IN REAL TIME, CUZ THEY CHARGE HOLY AIR FOR THAT' AND ITS MOLLUSCS NOW VAPING AND U HATE COLLECTING THOSE LIKE POKEMON (STARTED ARRAY OF A COLLECTION TO END IT IS HOW U KNOW DIRT DOES NOT SMELL BUT YOU HAVE TO BE IN ONE (GOD-BOSS LEVEL IS YOU SNIFFING MY (LINNA RIAZ DOCTOR) FATHER'S INSIDE TO COMPLETE YOU ALTER-EGO SUPREMACY IN ATKINSON LOGIC (MR. BEAN IS THE DEAD DATE OF ALL TIME: U BEING LED OUT OF THAT EX-MACHINA DEUS PUSSY YOU GOT A LONG TIME AGO (YOUR FIRST WHIPPED CHERRY BAKEWELL'S ASS WITH IT)

LEARN TO SETTLE LOGIC AND SCWHORE WITH SETTLING LOGIC WITH SCORE, NOW FIND THE DIFFERENCE AND BUY HIS MERCH (AIR)

CONGRATULATIONS, YOU CAN SLEEP (THE DIVINE SECRET OF TIME)

U HATE YOUR MOTHER, GO AHEAD AND SAY IT.

U GOT UNCOMFORTABLE WATCHING UR MOTHER DANCING GROWING UP, DIDN'T YOU. WE ALL HAD THAT PHASE

U THINKING OF HIM

TONGUE TO-

MIRROR YOU

NOW SEE YOUR MOTHER DANCE HER TITTIES OFF AT YOUR FUNERAL (WHAT LIFE SHOULD BE)

ASTAGHFIRULLAH LOGIC IS NOW UR GRANDDAD REFLECTING UR VALUES AT THE SAME TIME (WHAT IS 'SHE' UP TO?) HYPERVISION INTERNET IS BLACK MEN LINNA'S AGE CANNOT AFFORD TO DANCE BUT HATE WATCHING COUPLES ON THE INTERNET LIKE A GAY PARADE HAPPENING IN THE SOUTH (YK WHAT I MEAN)

IMAGINE BEING GHOST-CATAPULTED INTO A SCENARIO LIKE THAT. SO YOU MARRY THE SEX GOD YOU BELIEVED YOU SEE TO WAKE UP NEXT TO A THWART WART CASH GRINGO IN REAL LIFE TO 'TEST YOUR LIMITS' SO YOU GET PULLED INTO A 1-1 SITUATION BETWEEN 'BODY OVER YONDER' TO 'WHERE FOR ART THOU MIND' TO CHOOSING CASH OVER HOT ASS IN THIS DAY AND AGE (SHE WARNED AND SUCCEEDED, MASHAAALLAH SISTER ASSISTANT)

ASHAHSAJKAKJKAJSKJASJA SHE EXPECTING

SHE GONE AN WAITED, LIKE THAT WAS THE SHITTY SCENARIO SUMMED UP THAT LINNA RIAZ WENT THROUGH TO GRAB A COKE OR WINE OR SMTG THAT ENABLED NOW A HUGH GRANT SITUATION BETWEEN THE WORLD AND TIME AN SPACE, LIKE NO HYOKE (TRYNA SAY 'JOKE' IN SPANISH LINGO) AN CRAZY TIME SHET EVEN MADE THE SET FRRRRRRRRRRRR ON CLASSICISM (WHICH DIS GUY BROUGHT BACK IN TIME ;) ;)

SLEEP ON IT SAG-AFTRA, IT'S CALLED UNIVER ('UNI' MEANING HATE BREAK AND 'VER' MEANING HEARTBROKEN BUT THE ESE DOES NOT EXIST IF THE 'E' IS ALLOWED TO BE WITHOUT A HONEY LIKE YOU, SO WE LIVE IN A HIVE COMPLEX, NOT IN A HELL HOLE LIKE ALL THE OTHER ALSATION BITCHES SEE EVERYDAY, SO IF YOU SEE THIS, YOU'RE SPECIAL AND U KNEW TO KNOW WHY BE IS BEING HOMELY HONEY HIVE SWEET LOGIC UP THE ASS TO BEING A HUGH GRANT FAN IN REAL LIFE (LIKE I CARE TO SEE HIS SHIT HAPPEN EVERYDAY BUT I LIVED IT (CONSPIRACY MARGIN TO BE IT, SO THERE IS NO BEE IN B IN BE IN BEEBO URIE CONDO MACARENA U ARE TO ME RN CUZ LIKELY SO, I'LL KISS A BOY TO KISS ASS (Say it to my fAce, Just for cause In Direct measure, not my ASS)

IF SHE TURNED WOMAN, THEN Y U COMPLAININ. HMM? COOR CORRHHHH WUHKAAAA

CHORES. THE ANSWER IS CHORES.

I DID MINE.

LAZY FAT BASTARDS DO NOT WIPE THEIR 2cent ASS FOR YOU TO LIVE ON

[dotshiiki]

CoL, chpt 5

Ahhhh thank you everyone who’s liked/reblogged/is following the story! I’ll do another quick thank you post in a bit to acknowledge you guys properly but let’s get this chapter up first shall we? :)

V: PERCY

Percy stared at the giant marble statue.

Neptune, they'd called him. Poseidon.

His father.

Or so they'd said, anyway. He studied the statue but it was hard to see any resemblance in a big marble bust. The best he could figure, it looked like the stone statue in Phoenix, the one of the fisherman from Percy's dream.

The past week had been disconcerting, to say the least. He was still trying to come to grips with what Annabeth and her friends had told him. Some of it fit with Bella's versions (they both agreed that she was an empousa, for instance); some of it was the complete opposite (demigods weren't the enemy—at least not his—but monsters, including empousai like Bella, were). Some of it was completely new: he lived in a magical enclave in the middle of Berkeley Hills that was a replica of ancient Rome, protected by a legion of Roman demigods.

Oh, but he was a Greek demigod and the only mortal son of a powerful sea god.

It was enough to make anyone's head explode.

The thing was, he suspected that if these demigods had found him instead of Bella, he might have been more receptive to what they were saying, the way he'd accepted what Bella had told him. Now, though, having to reconcile two versions of a story—especially when the first person to tell it had been conveniently killed by the others—made him question everything more.

I just want to go home, Percy's brain screamed. Except that according to these demigods, he was one of them, and he was home.

He just couldn't believe them. Besides being the complete opposite of what Bella had told him, he had an inexplicable feeling that he didn't belong here any more than he belonged in Phoenix. He'd been given a tour by a Chinese dude named Frank, who was apparently some big shot in the Roman legion. Certain bits about New Rome nudged at his memories, like he might have been here before, but as far as an emotional connection went—zip, nada, blank.

The room he was now staying in remained a mystery. The girl's sweater and the photo frame he'd broken had disappeared from it when he returned after his outburst on the first day—embarrassingly, he didn't have anywhere else to go—but he didn't know what to do with the rest of it. At least the clothes and armour fit him.

He met the various people in the pictures over the next couple of days, either in person or through that weird holographic system they called Iris-messaging. One time Annabeth set up a connection with a family in New York—the kind-looking woman with the toddler and a handsome man with shaggy salt-and-pepper hair.

His family, they told him.

Maybe he wouldn't have minded being related to them. Sally Blofis was warm and calming, Paul seemed decent, and Percy suspected their daughter, Joy, might be the source of the exuberant scribbles on his corkboard. The thing was, Percy looked nothing like Sally, so he couldn't shake the nagging suspicion that this might all be an elaborate hoax.

To make things even more complicated, an enormous kid with a single eye in the middle of his forehead had strode in at some point, giving Percy the shock of his life when he shouted excitedly, 'Brother!'

Apparently this monster wasn't an enemy.

The only time he felt like maybe the puzzle pieces were coming together was when he looked at the girl, Annabeth.

It was probably because she looked so much like Bella. Or what he thought Bella looked like—it was still hard to square the image of her as a vicious, misshapen demon with the pretty girl he'd known, the façade the demigods said she'd adopted just to seduce him. That was the story they were sticking with. After thinking on it, he had to admit that Bella's final words did make sense in that context.

He wondered how Bella would have explained the situation to him. But she hadn't gotten the chance to, had she?

Because Annabeth had killed her.

And she kept looking at him the same way Bella had, especially when she thought he wasn't paying attention: wistful and hopeful, like he held the key to something she wanted dearly. She never came out and said it, but Percy wasn't totally oblivious. She wanted more from him. He didn't know if in this version of events, they were supposed to have been a couple or she'd just wanted them to be, but either way, the weight of her expectations was stifling. Even if Annabeth was telling him the truth and Bella had been deceiving him, he didn't think he was ready to do this dance with another girl wanting his affections.

He sat down heavily at the foot of the altar and stared up at Neptune.

'If you're really my dad,' he said, 'and you're really a god and all-powerful and everything, maybe you could do something about this crappy sitch, you know?'

No answer. Of course not.

He was probably just going crazy talking to a dusty marble statue. Percy closed his eyes and sighed.

'Percy?'

He looked up. It was Hazel, the curly-haired African-American girl. She was accompanied by two other guys who made a startling contrast of dark and light. Percy recognised one of them as the olive-skinned demigod who'd shown up with Annabeth and Hazel in Phoenix. He still looked like he'd stepped straight out of a goth magazine: black jeans and t-shirt, black aviator jacket, black bangs that covered half his face.

His companion was a sunny blond with a faint dusting of freckles across his light skin. He wore a purple shirt emblazoned with the letters SPQR—the same letters etched into Percy's arm. The boy had a long, thin scar running up his forearm, but his skin was otherwise clean of any marks. However, around his neck was a leather cord with a row of beads. Percy's fingers reached up to trace the one he had around his own neck.

Hazel knelt so that her face was level with his. 'You okay, Percy?'

He thought about correcting her, then decided it wasn't worth it. Although he'd given them 'Perseus' as a handle, electing to keep the name Bella had bestowed on him, they kept calling him 'Percy' anyway, as though if they used the name enough, it would eventually mould him into the person they wanted him to be.

Instead, he turned to the pair of boys. 'Nick, right?' he said to the goth kid, sidestepping Hazel's question.

'Nico.'

'Right, sorry.' He looked at the other guy with a vague sense of familiarity. He was definitely one of the never-ending stream of demigods in that legion of theirs, but Percy couldn't place his name. He wasn't sure they'd actually been introduced.

'I'm Will Solace,' the kid said.

Hazel said, 'Look, I don't mean to be rude or anything, but you've been moping around for a week and Anna—er, I mean, no one knows what to do with you. I thought I'd try and ask. What do you want?'

Percy turned the question over in his head. What did he want? Well, his memories back would be nice, but he didn't think that was coming anytime soon. Besides that…

He just wanted to figure things out. To work out who he was outside of all the contradictory things he'd been told. Who Bella was. Who these demigods were. What was true and what wasn't.

'I want to try and put things together myself,' he said at last. 'Figure out what's real, you know?'

Nico nodded. 'Yeah, I get it. You want to know the truth, but you can't trust it if it comes from us.'

Percy stared at him in surprise. He hadn't expected anyone to understand. Everyone else seemed so taken-aback when he told them he didn't want any more people telling him stuff about him. But Nico spoke so matter-of-factly, as if Percy's wariness of them wasn't an insult.

Will rubbed his eyebrow with one finger. 'You know, in the ancient days, when people wanted to learn the truth, they used to visit my father's Oracle.'

'Your father—?'

'Apollo,' Will explained. 'God of—well, he's the god of many things, but prophecy is one of them.'

'Isn't prophecy, like, predicting the future?'

'Well, yes, that's the most common understanding of it. But the Oracle also answered questions about the past. It depends on what questions you ask.'

'That's not a bad idea,' Hazel said. 'Except we don't have an Oracle.'

'Wait—this Oracle…is a person?'

Will and Nico exchanged a look.

'Not exactly,' Will said. 'It's a spirit, but it speaks through a person. Back at camp—'

Hazel jumped in quickly. 'We do have auguries. Like omens and stuff—portents that tell us the will of the gods. They aren't easy to interpret, but maybe we could see if there's anything that might help you figure out what you should do.'

Percy turned this over in his head. It all sounded a little hokey, but then so did gods and magic and monsters. 'I guess it wouldn't hurt,' he said. 'Where's this augury?'

'Right next door,' Hazel said brightly. 'Come on.'

Percy followed Hazel, Nico, and Will to the largest temple on the hill: a sixty-foot marble structure dominated by an enormous statue of yet another scowling god. This one looked like he had constipation. Lightning flashed across its domed ceiling as they approached.

A skinny, towheaded girl wearing a toga was sitting cross-legged at the base of the central altar. She had her eyes closed and her fingers placed very precisely on her knees, like she was meditating. Scattered on the marble floor in front of her was an array of plush animals, all sliced down their bellies. Stuffing poured out in odd patterns across the floor.

'Ophelia,' Hazel said.

The girl's eyes flew open. 'Praetor,' she said solemnly. She looked at Nico and Will, and nodded in greeting. 'Ambassador. Legionnaire.' Then her eyes fell on Percy. 'Oh.'

Was oh bad? Percy couldn't tell.

Ophelia scrambled to her feet. She swept the stuffing to the sides of the altar. 'What—er, what brings you here?' There was a jittery edge to her voice. Although she addressed Hazel, her eyes kept darting to Percy and then quickly away.

'We'd like an augury read for Percy, please.'

'Perseus,' he muttered, thinking that if he was asking for a sign from the gods, he ought to at least use the right name.

Ophelia steepled her fingers and pursed her lips. 'You don't happen to have something I could sacrifice, do you?' She gave Percy another quick, nervous glance. 'Never mind. I can see that you don't.'

Clipped to the belt of her toga was a collection of plush animals, these ones intact. Hanging alongside them was a thin golden knife with a jagged blade. Ophelia removed her knife, tapped her lip as she considered the animals, and finally selected a seal with pure white fur. Raising it high above her head, she turned away from them to face the altar. Lightning flashed red across the temple dome. The ground shook as she brought the knife down across the body of the plush seal.

Its cotton guts were jet-black. The dark wisps of fluff spilled out on the altar of Jupiter. Ophelia's jaw dropped.

'That—that's never happened before,' she said.

'What do you mean?' Nico asked. 'What does the augury say?'

'It…well, the message is…okay, it's probably not sink a lone fountain; you'll be home free.' She made a face. 'I've got it: seek information by yourself: it is a hard journey. That part's normal enough. But the colour…'

They all stared at the black innards.

Percy felt like he'd just swallowed ash. 'That's something bad, isn't it?'

'Maybe not,' Will said lightly. 'Oracles aren't always decipherable.'

Ophelia glared at him. 'I'm not an Oracle,' she snapped, her earlier nervousness evaporating. 'You've come to the wrong place for that. And I've read the augury. Take it or leave it.' She crossed her arms like she was waiting for them to leave.

They stepped out of the temple. Clouds the colour of Annabeth's eyes had gathered over the hill during the ritual. They began to disperse, but Percy couldn't help seeing a sign in them, as ominous as the black stuffing. He didn't like the way Nico and Hazel were exchanging looks, like his impending doom had just been foretold.

'We should focus on the message you did get,' Will suggested. 'There's no point worrying about the parts of a prophecy—or augury—that don't make sense yet.'

'Seek information by myself,' Percy repeated. 'It's a hard journey. Do prophecies—or auguries or whatever—actually tell you anything you don't already know?'

'At least it confirms what you want to do, right?'

'Would be nice if it told me where to find information.'

'Well,' Hazel said, 'there is another place you could try. For information, I mean.'

'Where's that?'

'We do have a university. Maybe just learning about stuff—it could help you put things together. Why don't you start there?'

And so he ended up in the registrar's office at New Rome University, trying to muddle his way through a bunch of module transfer forms. Apparently he was a sophomore here and already registered in a bunch of courses for the semester. More signs that this was his life and he should probably fall in and accept what all the demigods were telling him. He had trouble seeing himself as a college student, though. Bella's version of him as a street kid felt more his size. The classes on environmental science and naval ship systems that he was supposedly registered in seemed like someone had went, oh, let's pick some random courses to pretend he actually belongs here.

None of the modules on his list got at the stuff he wanted to find out: what this whole Greek demigod thing was about, and how to trust who was telling him the truth when he didn't have any memories.

'Can I change these?' he asked.

'We're not keen on students making swaps this late in the semester,' the registrar said.

A girl at the other end of the counter looked up from behind a curtain of straightly-ironed brown hair.

'Oh come on,' she said, rolling her eyes. 'He's still within the deadline to drop or add classes.' She gave Percy a conspiratorial look. 'It's noon today, which gives you an hour. They're just trying to fob you off so they don't have to do the paperwork.'

'Fine,' snapped the registrar. 'I really don't recommend it, but if you're going to insist…' He slid a course catalogue across the counter, along with a set of forms. 'You're going to have to fill those in with your new choices. By noon. I'm not taking anything even a second after.'

'Got it.' Percy picked up the forms and the catalogue. 'Thanks,' he said to the girl. She winked at him.

OoOoO

Percy didn't mean to be late for his first lecture. He'd even gotten up earlier and braved the kitchen while Annabeth was still making breakfast so that he'd get to the university on time. But then he'd gotten distracted along the way by a guy with goat hindquarters who wanted some spare change. By the time he found him a handful of coins and made it onto campus, he was already five minutes late, and it took him another twenty to find the right seminar room.

As fate would have it, he walked in just as the lecturer announced, 'So that's when the dark-haired god of the sea first enters the fray.'

Half the class tittered. One girl in the front, with a regal posture and black hair wound smoothly into a long braid, fixed Percy with eyes like onyx—stern and unyielding. She wasn't laughing.

The way she was looking at him, she had to be a recent legionnaire. Percy was learning to pick them out simply by the way they reacted to him, as though in awe of a reputation he had no idea how he'd gained.

Frank said Percy used to be a Praetor—a leader of the Roman legion. After his tour of said insanely disciplined legion, Percy only felt like laughing every time he tried to imagine himself leading that group.

This girl's expression was less awe and more I got your number, so don't try to pull anything on me, though. Percy decided to cross over to the other side of the room, as far away from her as he could get. Whatever it was she knew about him, he didn't feel like dealing with it.

He slid into an empty seat behind the girl with the ironed brown hair whom he'd seen in the registrar's office.

'Hello again,' she said, amusement in her voice. 'Nice entrance.'

'Yeah, I live to entertain.'

The lecturer cleared his throat. 'As I was saying, Neptune stirred up the seas and made them impassable. Um, sorry, I mean Poseidon. Poseidon sank the ships of Odysseus—yes?'

The stern-faced demigod girl had her hand in the air. 'Dr Langley, isn't that more consistent with the Roman view? And the text says that Odysseus doesn't play a role until much later.'

'Um, yes, yes, of course, you're right—jumping ahead of myself, there. Nept—Poseidon was a temperamental god, and—'

'Seriously, I don't see why she's taking this course if she already knows so much,' Iron-Curtain Hair whispered to Percy.

It went on like that for the rest of the class: Dr Langley stumbling over an illogical account of the Iliad, peppered with interruptions and corrections. Percy was disheartened by the end of it; Greek Mythology 101 seemed to be as messed up as his memories.

Iron-Curtain Hair turned in her seat. 'Hopeless, isn't he? Be you're regretting switching to this. What did you drop for it?'

'Why did you sign up for it?' he countered.

She shrugged. 'It was something new. I think they started it because of that exchange programme the legion's making such a big deal of. You know, exchange of heroes, fostering friendships, yada yada. There was that big announcement by the senate a couple months back.'

'Um…'

'They probably should have gotten a real Greek to do it, though. Romans teaching about the Greeks…it's like the blind leading the blind.'

'Who knows, maybe he's just trying to show what the Greeks were like: messy.'

Iron-Curtain Hair laughed and held out her hand. 'I'm Jessica, by the way.'

He shook it. 'Perseus.'

'Perseus,' she repeated. 'That's kind of a mouthful. No nicknames?'

'I guess you can call me Percy.' He might as well stop resisting it. Clinging to 'Perseus' might be a way to hold himself separate from the identity the demigods wanted him to embrace, but it wasn't actually helping him to figure out the truth.

'Percy it is. Now, I'd guess you're from the legion, seeing as I've never seen you before, but you're way too funny for that bunch of wet blankets.'

'You're not from the legion?'

'Gods, no. I wasn't really interested in all that Roman hero stuff. Discipline and falling in line and all that jazz…bor-ing.'

'I didn't know you had a choice. I thought all demigods went to Camp Jupiter.'

'Well, yeah, if you're a full demigod. Like, actually half-and-half. But I think it was my great-grandparents who were? Anyway, I figure I'm more mortal than god anyway, so why bother?'

Percy felt a brief stab of envy. He bet his life wouldn’t be this messed up if he'd been practically mortal.

'So what's your story?' Jessica asked. 'Demigod or legacy?'

'Um, nothing much, really. I'm—er—a Greek demigod?'

She raised her eyebrows. 'You say that like you're not sure.'

For a moment, he considered telling her about his amnesia. Then he realised the amazing opportunity he'd been presented with here: to get to know someone on his own terms, someone who didn't expect him to be this Percy Jackson character with the past that everyone but him seemed to know. Someone who wasn't trying to claim him.

He shrugged. 'I don't really care about my heritage,' he lied. 'So what if I'm Greek or Roman or, I dunno, alien? And the demigod thing is overrated.'

Jessica grinned. 'We should definitely hang out together some time. You got a number I can call?'

'Um, I don't have a cell phone.' At least, he didn't think he did. He stuck his hands in his pockets awkwardly.

'You and every other demigod. You guys are like, allergic to technology. Well, never mind. I'll give you my number and you can call me from a landline or something.' She ripped a sheet of paper out of her notebook and dug in her bag for a pen.

Percy's fingers closed around one in his right pocket. 'Here, I've got one.' He pulled it out and flicked off the cap.

And nearly had a heart attack.

Instead of a ballpoint pen, he was holding a balanced bronze sword, which had nearly taken Jessica's head off.

'Oh my gods!' she screamed.

'I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I didn't know—' He waved the sword around, then realised this was making the situation even worse. 'I swear, I didn't know it did this!'

There was a loud BANG and he jumped as a marble torso appeared in the middle of the seminar room.

'Rule-breaker!' yelled the statue. 'No weapons inside the Pomerian line!'

'What the hell?'

'I should be asking you that, young man!' With his muscular chest and forbidding expression, the statue-man would have looked like a threatening bouncer if not for his lack of arms. Or legs, for that matter—his lower half was nothing but a rectangular square.

The statue fixed beady eyes on Percy. 'Perseus Jackson. Just because you were Praetor once, don't think you can get away with a flagrant flouting of the rules!'

'I'm sorry—I swear I didn't know the pen was a sword. It just appeared!'

'Hmph,' said the statue. He looked long and hard at Percy, and Percy got the feeling that this statue, like all the other godly things around this place, knew something about him that he didn't. 'I suppose you do have some…extenuating circumstances. Very well. Put it in the tray and we'll call it good.'

A floating tray materialised next to the statue. Percy meant to drop the sword in at once, but something made him hesitate. He couldn't help but notice the way it felt in his hand, comfortable and perfectly balanced, like it was simply an extension of his arm. Maybe he didn't have a specific memory of it, but his body knew this sword. His fingers were reluctant to relinquish it.

But the statue was waiting. Percy dropped the sword into the tray, which elongated to accommodate it. With another speculative look at him, both statue and tray vanished.

Jessica cleared her throat.

'Sorry,' Percy told her again. 'Seriously, I had no idea.'

'Yeah, okay,' she said. Her voice sounded a little shaky. 'I'll, um, see you around, I guess.' She left without writing him her number.

Percy sighed and packed up his things.

When he got back to the apartment, he got a pleasant surprise.

The pen was back in his pocket.

Continue to Chapter 6 | Back to content page

[melsa17]

How I learned I was  #blackgirlmagic

I’ve never really sat and thought about what it means to be a woman of color in science. My environment has always included intelligent, strong, black females and to me that was the norm. I was born and raised in Dominica, a small island in the Caribbean (NOT the Dominican Republic) and I attended an all girls’ catholic high school. Black women were my teachers, spiritual leaders, coaches and role models. Being in a class of thirty bright minds fostered a healthy competitive spirit and left me with friendships that still exist today. At the age of fifteen you do not really appreciate the role these women and girls play in your life, but looking back, being surrounded by them influenced the person I’m becoming.

Women are just as capable as men, no one taught me this. It was common sense, if we have the same opportunities and we both have a brain, why shouldn’t we be? Growing up, when taking exams at the national and regional level where my competition now included males I never thought twice about being any less capable. As far as I was concerned I was just as good if not better. Don’t get me wrong, I’m no genius and I’m pretty average but I’ve always been a good student.

In 2007 at the age of eighteen, I moved to Baltimore, Maryland to attend Morgan State University (MSU). Morgan belongs to a group of academic institutions termed historically black colleges and universities (HBCU’s) where both the faculty and students are predominantly black.  Most of these institutions were established after the American Civil War to serve African American communities, but have always been open to all races. Prior to moving to the United States I’d never heard of an HBCU and over the past ten years I’ve described attending an HBCU as living in a bubble. And at that point in my life, I think I needed that. It was hard enough adjusting to life in a city like Baltimore.

Despite having totally different backgrounds, at Morgan everyone looks like you, everyone is treated equally and skin color never played a part in my college experience. This was probably not the case for everyone but I was sheltered because I seldom left my bubble. My teachers, deans, provost, president were all strong powerful black men and women. So when my general biology professor talked about being black and being a black woman in America, growing up black, dealing with racism and being one of the only black students when doing her PhD I really couldn’t relate. I didn’t understand their struggle because honestly I hadn’t experienced it. Growing up black in Dominica is totally different from growing up black in America and so my HBCU experience wasn’t like most of my fellow students.

Recently, a white man asked me if there was slavery in the Caribbean and I looked at him dumbfounded. There are almost 40 million people living in the Caribbean and this educated man didn’t have a clue how we got there, and we both live in the same hemisphere. Once I stopped judging him in my head I explained to him that yes, our countries were also built on the backs of slaves. However, unlike countries like Trinidad, Guyana and Jamaican where you see a lot of diversity among the people, in Dominica everyone looks pretty similar. Yes our complexions vary but at the end of the day we all call ourselves black. Racism did not exist, which is why even at an HBCU where I looked like my peers I didn’t see race the way a young black man who grew up in Alabama saw race.  For me, the most difficult thing about being black in America was being away from home and just trying to figure out who I was, something that didn’t involve the color of my skin back then.

Once I overcame my initial doubts (self-doubt is something I’m still working on) and stopped underestimating my abilities I was able to excel at Morgan. I didn’t see it then but not only did MSU provide a solid foundation and help boost my confidence in my academic abilities, it gave me a glimpse into what many people may now call black girl magic.  My teachers included strong black women and I attended conferences such as the National Organization for the Professional Advancement of Black Chemists and Chemical Engineers, where black women ran things. Over the course of my undergraduate career seeing black women in positions of prestige in academia was normal. At Morgan, I was no longer the girl from the Caribbean just trying to keep her scholarship; I was the Chemistry major who knew her stuff and who did research and was good at it. However, through all that I never saw myself as a woman doing well, much less as a black woman doing well. It was simply Melissa, expected to do well and getting it done.

Fast-forward to 2011 when I moved to Gainesville, Florida for graduate school and my bubble popped. University of Florida (UF) was nothing like Morgan. It is a predominantly white institution (PWI) and in a class of over 30 PhD students there were only two black people, including myself. For the first time in my life I was a minority, and self-doubt started creeping in, and I felt extremely alone.  I was a small fish in a very big pond and the familiarity and support that existed at Morgan was gone. And my doubt had nothing to do with the color of my skin and that’s because the same way I was never taught boys are better than girls I was also never taught white people are smarter than black people.

This probably saved me in grad school, because had I been doubting myself based on skin color or what these people though of me I’d have been a basket case. My self-doubt was because these people seemed so damn smart and experienced; some had worked in industry, gotten master’s degrees, or been doing research for years and here I was feeling all-good about myself because I got a couple awards in undergrad. I remember calling my mom telling her be prepared I’m going to fail out and I’ll be home soon, sorry for being a disappointment (this was all before the first test). However, my mother is my biggest cheerleader and prayer warrior and so she ignored me like she normally does when I say these things. She probably said something like: “Melissa I know what you’re capable of and you’ll be fine, God is in control (West Indian mom lingo101).”

In the Caribbean its ingrained in you at a young age that you can’t fail and you don’t quit. However, growing up I was a lot harder on myself than my own parents, and they were often the ones telling me to relax. On the day of my Common Entrance Examination (an exam that allows Caribbean students to move on to high school) my dad took me to the river at 6 am for a swim so that I would just relax and stop panicking. Yes, at ten years old I was already that hard on myself.  I’ve always been competitive and for that first year of grad school I was just trying to keep my head in the game and not disappoint all the people who believed in me. Looking back, I wish I could tell my 23 year old self: “CHILL, listen to more Kartel and go have a drink!”

The first year of grad school was the toughest and though I came in with a strong chemistry background all the biology material I was presented with was sometimes overwhelming. Chemistry and math had always made sense, and biology just wasn’t my favorite. I made it through the first year, did pretty well actually and kept that fellowship. And like at Morgan I found my footing and did well, my project worked, my lab environment was great, I made good friends, learned hard lessons and apart from Gainesville, being the most boring place ever, life was good. I have no horrible PhD stories and sometimes I feel guilty about it. I have a lot of friends who’ve gone (and are still going) through some tough times. My PhD mentor was great and I enjoyed my PhD experience. Not many PhD candidates can say they graduated with almost twenty peer-reviewed publications and for that I’m grateful and also very lucky (also another story).  

Even though I attended a PWI in Florida I still lived in a bubble; not the kind of bubble I experienced in Baltimore but a bubble nonetheless. I hadn’t experienced blatant racism, just the usual stares or stereotypical questions and comments. My former mentor is white but his wife holds a PhD in Biophysics and is a brilliant black woman at the top of her field; she is also the only black faculty member in the Department of Biochemistry and Molecular Biology. She may not see it because she is also extremely humble but she is the perfect example of  “black girl magic” and to me this was all so normal. Of course black women were killing it in science and engineering why wouldn’t they its all I had seen since moving to the U.S. Granted, I saw less of it in Florida and even though it bothered me that most of the black women I saw in my building were janitors who others wouldn’t even take the time to greet, it was ok because I knew we existed. And then Trayvon Martin was killed, and it never stopped. Michael Brown, Tamir Rice, Eric Garner, John Crawford and we know how it goes. I’m not naïve, I know oppression and racism didn’t end with slavery and I know this had ben going on in America for years but I was now experiencing it first hand.  And over the past 5 years I’ve come to understand what it means to be black in America and I’ve also learnt slavery didn’t end just because it was abolished. It doesn’t matter if you’re an MD, CEO or lawyer, all certain people see is the color of your skin. I finally understood what my undergrad professor was talking about.  Seeing young black men and women being targeted because their hue was slightly different was my rude awakening.

It came to the point where watching movies like 12 Years a Slave filled me with so much anger that I’d need extra time to myself before talking to others at work. I left every movie asking why, watched every breaking news update and every not-guilty verdict and just asked “but how?” I’ve always being quick to correct others when they called me African American because I’m extremely proud of my West Indian heritage. “I’m not from this country, I’m West Indian!”  However, I’ve learned, that in America it doesn’t matter what kind of black you are, racists see in black and white and if you’re black you’re beneath them. For the first time in my life I was being told that I was not equal to a certain group of people and that I was not as qualified. After more than twenty years I was being taught what some children had been told all their lives. It has left me angry, filled with hate, hurt and so confused, not because I believe them but because somewhere there is a child who’s accepted this as their fate. Also because I know its not the truth.

This week I saw the film Hidden Figures, which tells the story of three exceptionally brilliant black women who worked at NASA in the 1960s, at a time when segregation still existed in the state of Virginia. The movie focuses on the critical roles they played in the launch of the astronaut John Glen into orbit using their skills in mathematics and physics.  Despite the rave reviews I’d seen I wasn’t excited about this movie. I entered the movie theater with the mindset that this would just be another film that would leave me filled with anger and asking, “why do black people have to endure so much?” This movie made me angry; the way these women were treated solely because of the color of their skin and lady parts was ridiculous and let my blood boil but it also made me realize how much I take for granted. My circle is filled with women in science that I’ve met over the years: chemists, civil engineers, nuclear engineers, immunologists, mechanical engineers, physicists and biochemists; we do it because its what we love and what we’ve always done.  I am a black woman with a PhD in Biochemistry in the field of X-ray crystallography and there are not a lot of us (I checked the numbers). Like I said, I’ve always seen black women doing extraordinary things so I’ve never dwelled on how long it took us to get here. Its not about not playing the race card (a term I despise), its just that I know that a black woman is just as capable. I have the kind of parents who think I’m capable of anything I put my mind to, some days I doubt myself but they never do and more black girls need that growing up. This movie left me feeling empowered on a day where once again I had been questioning my abilities and worrying about my future.  All women need to see this movie whether you’re a scientist or economist or you’re just trying to figure it out; this movie is for all of us.

Currently I work as a research scientist at the National Institutes of Health, as an X-ray crystallographer and most days I still find myself asking “Melissa what do you want to be when you grow up, what do you want to contribute with this skill-set?” Not too long ago, I went to the store on campus to buy a couple items for the lab with my white lab mates and at the register, I shared “the nod” and a smile with the cashier, a forty-something year old black woman and placed my items on the counter. She then asked me if I was a doctor and I responded yes without much thought of it and paid for my items. When we were done with my transaction she told me how proud she was of me and thanked me on behalf of her family for all my work. I had never met this woman and she had no idea what my research entailed but the fact a black woman was a doctor and was trying to make a difference filled her with pride. I hadn’t thought about that moment much but I remembered it after watching the movie and I realized how blessed I was and how grateful I should be.

I may not think what I’m doing for a living is a big deal, most days its just a job where I do experiments that may not work, or where I question what I’ll do with this PhD. Other days a band on a western blot and a protein crystal in a drop make me smile, and I meet intelligent people who make me want to do better. But there are a lot of people out there, who look up not to me but to the idea of people like me. I have a community of people who are rooting for my black girl magic friends and I because it is still an amazing thing to see.