There was something on her mind, brain, or whatever. It was black ooze and it slowly invaded the space, the matter, and she just watched. Did nothing. Not anything. And it engulfed her whole, no chewing, like Moby . 

And when the ooze swallowed it all, she felt something tug at the waist of her shirt. She looked down and noticed she was floating in the ooze, resigning herself to the waves wherever they flowed. Follow the flow, baby. 

She must be high or something. Whatever it was, some type of drug was in her system. A depressant probably with the way the ooze just made her *chill*. She was chill, like an ice pack. Don’t know why she needed some like drugs in her body, but there it was. Not going to go back in time to change the past. Got to live in the now, the screaming in your face type of time. Was it screaming in her face, though? No, it was some sort of mumbling. Like rappers these days. That was how the present was, it mumbled and she had no idea what was going on cause people didn’t tell her straight. 

Then, Seulgi woke up and her brain shifted back in place, back to the *right* place. The ooze wasn’t there and by god, she was normal again. Hallelujah. Something about Fairchild, she didn’t know, but it did something to her. Brain was talking to itself, having arguments and philosophical debates. Hell, it was even talking to her! Cursing more like it. 

She woke three minutes before seven, her alarm, and with respect to Sooyoung, who was sleeping for a good sixteen hours now, she turned it off before it blared. 

(Are you sure she isn’t dead? Your conversation with her probably killed her. We both know how terribly boring you are. Like waiting in the DMV or junk mail.) 

This voice sounded awfully like Austin Powers, like some groovy 70s disco-powered radio voice. Seulgi felt funky just hearing it. 

“What about spam?” She mumbled. 

(Spam isn’t so bad. Like a treasure trove full of ! We both know how much you enjoy things going to .)

“Yeah, I do. Don’t I? Who are you again?”

(I’m your temporal lobe, baby. First in its class. Ace student. Valedictorian. The ing Magnum Opus in this for a brain. I’m the one keeping you together! Well, keeping the other parts from killing each other.)

“Well thanks for your work. Don’t really have anything to give you.”

(Eat your vegetables. Love me some vegetables. Good for thought. Like . Have more of that too. Releases dopamine. Y’know, the good stuff.)

“Not having . Look at everyone. They’re so busy with everything. Not like the schools in the city.”

(But that Irene girl. You’ve got her under your thumb. She practically already has your legs spread for you! Just stick it in. Her moans power you.)

“Like some sort of moan generator?”

(Yeah, baby. Electricity doesn’t mean when you’ve got Irene in your ear.) 

“That sounds nice.”

(It does, doesn't it.)

“Are you talking to yourself?” Sooyoung asked. What Seulgi didn’t notice in her time talking to herself was that Sooyoung’s own alarm set off. It was a punk rock song Seulgi didn’t know the name of. Maybe that was why she really didn’t notice it. 

“Oh, you know. Just mumbling to myself. First day of school, you know? Nervous. Real nervous.”

“Who do you have?” Sooyoung asked. 

“Mr. Choi,” Seulgi replied as she rose from her bed. When her feet touched the wood floor, a tingling shot up from her and in her mind, they started talking again.

(Oi! Wear socks next time! Neurons are firing up!) 

“Got it,” she whispered, which Sooyoung didn’t take notice of.

“If you have Choi then you better get there quick, good seats would be taken up.”

“Yeah, .” Seulgi rushed to the bathroom after she grabbed her uniform. “I’d like to get to know my roommate. Are you free today?” Seulgi yelled from the bathroom while she dressed.

“Free, as in…”

“Maybe you could show me around. Clubs, especially. Any extracurriculars?”

“Sure, I think. How’s debate club sound?”

Seulgi hummed in approval. “Sounds like my cup of tea.”

(Oh yeah you’d like that, wouldn’t you? Exert your dominance over *lesser* minds. Some things are just born lesser.)

“Huh?” Seulgi frowned.

(Temporal Lobe: Sorry about the parietal cortex. Read Mein Kampf and now he’s a facist. Don’t mind him and go back to talking to Sooyoung.)

“I’m one of the officers of the debate club. I’ll introduce you. What should I call you?” Sooyoung asked. 

(Temporal Lobe: Go with Giga-brain, baby. Chicks dig that.)

“Gig-ahem-just call me Seulgi.”  

Seulgi finally finished dressing up and presented herself to Sooyoung. “How do I look?”

“Like you have a stick up your ,” Sooyoung barked. When she saw the surprised look on Seulgi’s face she said, “ the top button and you’ll be good.”

Seulgi followed the advice and did exactly that. She grabbed her backpack filled with her new books and said, “Thanks Sooyoung. I’ll see you after class.”

“See you,” Sooyoung replied back, but Seulgi didn’t even hear it because she was already out of there. 

Professor Choi’s classroom was on the third floor, or rather, it was on the ‘two flights of hellish stairs before you get there’ floor. Seriously, her legs ached and pulsed from the amount of steps there were separating the two. They could have fit two more floors in between but no, it was a giant staircase and it .

When she arrived, the lecture hall was dark, and Professor Choi was nowhere to be seen. Only a lone body, head down on the table, snoring, was seen and heard inside. 

Seulgi inched closer and found the girl really was sleeping, head in arms and all. And so, Seulgi created a space between them, a whole two chairs worth of space, in the front row. So now whoever arrived had to deal with *that* problem.

(Wow, you’re a . A selfish, self-serving . That’s what we taught you. And you listened. Good girl.)

Seulgi started to recognize the voices. This one was her cerebral cortex. And it just complimented her. It was rough, and it grated against her ears. Like they had something stuck in their throat and they were always trying to cough it out. Seulgi could picture the face behind the voice: a forty something man that looked fifty from the scars and on his face. An unkempt beard. Nose red from the frigid cold. Gaunt looking, his eyes just lost in the wind. That was the face. And by god, he looked ugly.

What a strange little fantasy she conjured up in her head. Oh well, fantasy was all she had left. That and calluses on her hands from guitar playing.  

(Cerebral cortex: you think this girl took a molly last night? Look at her. Looks like you, sometimes. The way she screams *ed up*.)

Seulgi looked closer at the girl, and it was right, the girl looked like all sorts of ed up. Hair was a mess. Drool dripped down the side of to the table. There were marks on her face, like she drew warpaint or something. What kind of party had them draw warpaint on themselves?

(Why do you think it was a party? Maybe this girl just did it to herself for no reason?)

“Who are you?” 

(Your frontal lobe. The logic box. The one that decides whether or not you’d slap this poor girl in the face for no reason. I am the alpha and the omega.)

This one’s voice sounded awfully serious. Seulgi didn’t like it. It felt like it wore some million dollar suit and folded their hands over the table like they were conducting a business deal. Sounded condescending.

“What else, then? Look at her. There must be a reason she’s like this. It must be a party. It has to be.”

(Frontal lobe: Perhaps. But you have to look at it from all sides. Don’t look at it one-dimensionally. Think for a second. And think *hard*.

Temporal Lobe: Or don’t think at all, baby! Let it go! Who cares why she’s like that? The real question is: where do we get the drugs?)

Seulgi shrugged. “I’ll have to side with this Austin Powers sounding guy. Who cares why she’s like that? Why should I care?”

(Cerebral cortex: Cause you’re pathetic and pathetic people always try to worm their way into something when it’s none of their business. Go on, be pathetic then. Why is she like that?)

Seulgi huffed and she did as her frontal lobe asked and looked *hard*. And there it was.

There, on the girl’s neck, was a necklace. On the chain was a logo she’d seen before back in the city. A logo she didn’t expect to see here at all. A bottle of wine with the cork at its base. 

There was a story behind that logo, or