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Another way he had changed since he immersed himself in this culture, now he adjusted his environment to suit him, rather than adjust to the environment. He stilled debated which philosophy was more valid. Sighing he cleared his capricious mind that without his discipline would be inclined to engage itself it that fruitless argument. However unappealing the exercise was, it allowed his mind and body a welcome respite. His exhausting work left him somewhat scatterbrained. His years of training made the activity second nature, and almost automatically he reached the trance-like state without the aid of the mantras he was taught as a child or the fascinating totems some of his peers constructed. He visualized the lakeside clearing where he had located the dragonfly community, appearing in his mind with vibrant greens blues and the red of the earth in this valley. The drugged vision threatened him with vertigo, but he calmed his displaced mind and recalled the constant objects he had. “He knows how many guys we’ve had up here.” She drank off half her beer. “How?” Cal began, but Ralph put his finger to his lips and started looking around the room’s ceiling. He checked the light fixture and then pried the louvered cover off a heat duct beside the door and there it was, a tiny camera and an even smaller microphone. Ralph yanked them out and turned to face the shocked girls, waving the parted cables. “The RA,” cried Cal. “That son-of-a-bitch. I’ve heard rumors.” “That damned snooping pervert,” Vixen agreed. Down the stairs the three of them hurried to the Resident Advisor’s first floor rooms. He was not home. Cal had to go to class and get some lunch so Vixen and Ralph sat on the front steps for an hour, ignoring their hunger as well as their desire for each other. And then the RA appeared, jaunty as usual, his white hair blowing about his ears. Ralph held up the camera by its dangling cable. The man looked at it, blinking, threw his notebook in the air and ran. Ralph.
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