Fenno sat in the OCS 2L forum staring at a bead of sweat forming on Mark Weber’s forehead. It was hard to focus on exactly what he was saying over the sound of students rambling about their summers and the start of the year. The women next to him were discussing a particularly disturbing misadventure.

“So then, after he put a quarter in his couch, he’s like, it vibrates for therapeutic reasons. I mean, I know he’s not rich, successful or hot, but he is one of the 50 most eligible bachelors in America, so he must know something about this type of stuff, right? Plus I think he was talking about me when he told Mariah he wants to get married …”

Fenno tried to focus these women out and listen to Mark Weber. He was shaking a bit as he spoke.

“Umm…there’s no need to panic yet. The legal market has indeed slowed a bit, but its looking like most firms are choosing layoffs over a salary cut, so hopefully this will only affect applicants from lesser law schools, and you should all still be able to pretty easily find a job that pays four times the median household income in America…”

Fenno sighed with relief. If Weber said it, and his voice was still confidently nasal, it was probably true. He decided to leave before the Powerpoint presentation began. On the way out he heard the distinct voice of Austin Bramwell III.

“When will the LIPP ceiling be raised to $150,000? If my firm represents a company like K mart or JC Penny can it be considered public interest …”

Fenno rushed out the meeting and headed for the Clerkship office. Maybe he needed something to pad his resume after all. If Weber really knew that much about securing top jobs would he really work in Pound Hall anyway?

A cheery looking woman greeted Fenno at the entrance to the clerkship office.

“Hi, I have a specific question about clerkships,” Fenno said.

“Oooh … a specific question? You’ll have to talk to Kristin about that. I only answer general questions!”

Fenno looked at the name placard on the woman’s desk. It read “Kirsten”.

“Okay, Kirsten, when will Kristin be in?” Fenno asked.

“Hmm … she’s out to lunch with our supervisor, Kiristine, but I can take down your question and I expect they’ll be back by two o’clock!”

Fenno was disgusted that someone with a very sick sense of humor had been given control of hiring at the law school. He turned to leave and yelled back “Tell her Fenno wants to know who the hell is on First!” Faintly he heard in the background, “Oooh … that’s gonna be a tough question to answer …”

Fenno needed fresh air, and decided to go for a walk along the Charles River. There were a lot of people out walking, enjoying the two weeks in the Harvard School before it turned permanently cold.

Fenno saw some people from last year’s living wage campaign walking along the river, too.

“Hey, Fenno!” one of them yelled out. “How was your summer?”

“I worked for a small boutique firm in hell run by the devi-“

“Cool! That sounds awesome. Hey, are you going to come to the rally this week? The Crimson is sponsoring it!”

“Sure. How was your summer spent?” Fenno asked.

“Oh, I split between L.A. and New York at two great firms. In New York, I got client contact with Nike! And in L.A., I actually wrote a brief for Kathy Lee Gifford in this action against her. It was amazing!”

Fenno started running away before the conversation ended and didn’t stop until he reached Griswold Hall. He ducked into the basement, suddenly feeling that he had experienced enough of the outside world. Fenno could hear voices behind a door which read “DO NOT ENTER- ASBESTOS CONTAMINATION!”. He cracked the door and took a whiff. Smelling none, he quietly creeped inside.

A wooden looking Robert Clark sat leaning forward in a chair. Behind him stood Jonathon Zittrain and Stephen Shavell. Shavell looked angry.

“Are you going to get this thing working before he has to greet the 1Ls?” Shavell asked.

“I’m doing my best,” said Zittrain. Zittrain poked a screwdriver at the open back of Dean Clark and then closed the lid on tangled circuitry. He pushed a button on the back of Clark’s suit.

“Clark, I want you to hum in agreement if you understand the directives we give you,” said Zittrain.

“B < PL," said Shavell.

The robotic Clark emitted a quiet hum. Fenno jumped in shock, knocking over some boxes. The sound made Zittrain bump into Clark, knocking him out of the chair. The machine hit the ground, and starting yelling.

“Welcome to Harvard Law School, Welcome to Harvard Law School, Welcome to Harvard Law School, Welcome to Harvard Law School…”

Shavell gave it a stiff kick. It stopped yelling.

“Repeat Directive five!” he yelled.

“Economics is the soul of a good legal education. I am a real boy.” Clark responded, smiling. Zittrain and Shavell turned to each other and shook hands.

Fenno crept out of the back of the room. It looked like the Harvard Law School was running efficiently.

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