Training Data

It is 1995. Edward Thornberg tilts back in his chair, frowning as he re-reads the letter in his hands. In his sixties, he still has a full head of hair and the trim body of a former college track star. He works in a spacious office with century-old furniture and a PC more powerful than he needs. The letter begins, “Dear President Thornberg,” but goes downhill from there. It is on university stationery, and he is sure that its author has sent copies to other members of the ad hoc committee Thornberg created precisely to avoid this confrontation. He tosses it back on his desk. On the one hand, Professor Peaslee is one of Miskatonic’s most eminent scholars, and has played an important (if somewhat murky) role in managing various scandals over the years. On the other, the world has moved on, and Miskatonic needs to move with it. Thornberg picks up his phone and presses 1. “Please show him in, Mrs. Marsh.” He had made a point of saying “please” and “thank you” to the administrative staff…