Aleksandra burrowed deeper in the dusty tome in front of her, furiously typing notes to herself on a well used typewriter as she puzzled over its contents. The room was… small, compared to her usual accomodations back in Russia. She’d had mild difficulty in finding space to store her various accoutrements, and whatever flighting fancy had persuaded her that she might finalize any metallurgical research of consequence unless she gained access to a proper laboratory she would never know.

However, the manor had a wealth of knowledge on psychic phenomena, as well as various scholarly theories on their origin, mechanism of action, and potential reproduction of such phenomena in the laboratory and then the real world. The vast majority was metaphysical poppycock unfortunately, written by raving lunatics or opportunists looking for their fifteen minutes of fame and some money to boot. This book however, this one had value. Genuine experimental documentation, rigorous application of the scientific method, and plausible hypotheses aimed at actually decoding these logic defying anomalies. 

She had conducted some minor experiments on herself, but had been unable to find anything conclusive, likely due to her own ability’s nature as opposed to a more active one. However, willing test subjects were a rare commodity, and even more so when one wasn’t a man. Even money was of comparatively little use there, and she had been stuck with nothing to do but sort through the meaningless drivel to find the gold nuggets. 

She reached the last page in the chapter, quickly scanning the page and jotting down the relevant information. In the Society she might finally get the chance to do some real tests, noninvasive of course, on active psychic manifestations. She was comfortable with the idea that they might not be explainable with current knowledge, and in fact the thought of expanding the field of knowledge further in such an area was an enticing thought indeed. See them laugh then. 

Finishing the page she hastily threw a bookmark in and closed the tome with an audible thump. She hadn’t slept in over seventy two hours, and while she was accustomed to even longer stretches, they often involved actual motion, calibrating measurements, adjusting containers. She had sat on the hard wooden chair for the full stretch, pausing a few times to relieve herself a-...

A familiar pressure prompted her to sprint to the nearest lavatory, barely making it in time as… well… she emerged several minutes later, and immediately felt the parch of thirst and an aching pain in her gut that forced her to descend from her little nest-like area in search of food and water. The pitcher she’d taken with her had run dry a day ago. She made a mental note to ask one of the maids to check on her if she didn’t appear for more than two days so she didn’t run herself on an empty stomach again. Sleep could wait, she needed something to eat.

Walking through the halls, she poked her head into various rooms in search of someone to ask where she might find a bit of that wonderful fuel of the metabolic fire. Eventually the doors of the dining hall itself reared their heads, surely someone would be in there.

Pushing through the doors she halted immediately, a lock of unkempt snowy hair falling in her eye as she took notice of the little meeting in progress, and perhaps more importantly though not as likely, the food on the table they sat around. “Sorry.” She managed to croak out in the smidgen of Czech she knew, about to attempt actual communication before accepting defeat and asking in English, “I was searching for some, eh, food…” she trailed off, not sure whether to flee or try and grab some of the eggs on the table and make a run for it.