I am sitting in a small classroom and watching over some twenty students who are sweating over an exam. The entire Palmer Building, where I delivered my inaugural lecture more than a year ago, is unnaturally quiet: all the classrooms are packed with students overseen by my colleagues, the invigilators. We report to the Chief Invigilator, who administers all the examinations for the university. A highly centralized, efficient, and impersonal system: I do not recognize a single student in front of me. But there is more than one abyss between us. The last time I was in their position was so long ago that I cannot even imagine how they perceive me, their guardian angel. In fact, it was so long ago that I am not sure how I perceive them, my fickle subjects.