Ask Not For Whom The Panther Prowls by Astor James Monroe Page A

chance that a student would take it
into his mind to create a vacancy in the physics department was
remote. It was a fair swap, especially since Laura Brown and I had
hooked up. Having a reason to stay alive changes your outlook on
life. During summer, class breaks, and on the occasional evening, I
still worked with Arthur Ellis, the head and sole full-time
detective for Argus detectives. If I kept at it, I'd have my two
years employment as a private detective and could become a
certified private investigator. Given the status of funding and the
way this university ran, that was looking more and more attractive
each day. I'd drawn the short straw in the class assignment lottery
for spring semester and was teaching PHYS 1101, non-calculus
physics. Or as we liked to call it 'physics for poets'. It allowed
the non-mathematical types to satisfy a science requirement for
graduation, but far more importantly than that it brought credit
hours and the tuition dollars that came with them to the department
budget.
    I'd finished
lecturing a class of 50 freshmen and sophomores in Classroom South.
They mostly sat there slumping in their seats almost as responsive
as lumps of mud. Today's lot looked suitably glazed over, with
their brains well cooked and at the limit of their endurance. While
occasionally one would realize that this science stuff was
interesting and worth the effort to learn it, there would be no
such revelations today. One student in particular looked a bit more
thoroughly glazed over than the rest. I told the class, “See you
next time, and don't forget to at least try the homework.” which
was followed by the bulk of them rising and running for the door.
They were 'free at last'. The student who was particularly glazed
over lifelessly dropped to the floor when he was jostled by the
others. I ran to him, while someone screamed in the background. I
shouted, “Call 911”, and watched as several students complied.
Another student ran up, “I know first aid, CPR. Can I
help?”
    “ You bet.
Start on CPR while I go and get the AED from the hall.”
    I dashed out
into the hall, then down it towards the center of the building
where there were AED's mounted on the wall. The alarm on the AED
holder was already screaming, with its blue flashing light
indicating the EMT's were on their way. Someone had just removed
the device. Two heart attacks at the same time on the same day was
not an event the building's planners foresaw.
    Racing back
to the room, I found the student pumping away as hard as he could.
He shouted at me, “Where is it?”
    “ Already in
use. When you're ready I'll spell you.” For the next few minutes we
alternated for a minute each at pumping on the student's chest. CPR
is exhausting work and the two of us were nearly shot when the
EMT's finally arrived. We'd been doing our best to match the beat
of 'Stayin Alive' which happens to have the right tempo for CPR.
Unfortunately it was more a case of 'Another One Bites the Dust'
which also has the correct tempo.
    EMT's aren't
allowed to declare a patient as dead, but it was pretty clear that
after a few minutes of their hard work, there wasn't much hope for
the student. As they were leaving I heard one say to the others,
“Funny, that's the tenth one this week.” His friend replied,
“Wonder what they're taking?”
    It had been
a while since GSU had a serious drug problem. Most of the students
worked part-time to pay for college and didn't have the time or
inclination to spend it high. Those that had the time tended to
favor beer. It was cheaper.
    2
    That night
at dinner Laura noticed I was distant. Ms. Laura Brown, former
assistant DA for the city of Atlanta and now a rising star among
the state prosecutors and I, decided to get married. As she now had
full custody of her son, I was going to be an acting stepfather. It
seemed wise to move in a bit ahead of time and let her six year old
son Daniel get used to me. “Will, what happened?”
    “ Lost