Doctor Steven Chambers crossed the campus of Wayland University, dodging thrown frisbees and student questions. "My office hours are posted," was all that he would say. He was tired and angry. Summer session was about to start, with its smaller class sizes and more serious students. No one took summer course who was not serious about their studies. It should have been a good start to one of his favorite times of year to teach, but he had just had a fight with Dr. Wright, the head of the sociology department. He could not imagine a more disagreeable old man than Wright. The argument had been over his use of department funds to fund his latest research. He had the support of the university, but not that old busybody. Wright thought that he should have to qualify for a special grant, rather than using funds which had already been agreed upon in his contract.

Dr. Chambers, was a tall, slender fellow with long, lean muscles and wavy brown hair. He had a straight nose, a thin face and brown eyes. A pair of rounded spectacles threatened to fall down his nose, and he angrily shoved them back up. He was wearing a brown suit, with patches on the elbows and a pair of brown leather suits. 

He entered Andrews Hall, a red brick building, and walked down the hall to his first class, a class in the sociology of aging. It was a graduate class, and he was not in the mood to teach it, but time waited for no man. With a sigh, he tried to calm down, and forced a smile on his face. He walked through the door, and entered the tiny conference room where the class was to be held. There were six graduate students sitting around the table. He did not know them all, since some were transfers.