Matilda Enver was enjoying the privacy of her professorial solo office, squinting at an undergrad's very unclearly written reaction equations, when it happened. She always kept her door cracked open when she was available, and fool that she was, had imagined that any distraction from grading the final exams of Introduction to Organic Chemistry would be acceptable. What she got was her most unfortunate postgrad marching into her office and slamming the door shut with such force that the stack of exam papers tilted precariously and her reference books rattled in her bookshelf.
"What brings you here today?" Matilda asked as she gently righted the papers.
"The NMR has stopped working," Cora Lang said. "The techs say it'll be out of commission for at least a month."
Matilda ran through Cora's project in her head. "Did you get the species identification done before it broke?"
"What do you think? Of course not."
"And all the alternatives are also out of commission." Matilda clicked her pen in absent thought. "Well, you could-"
"Look, can I just fight the snake?" Cora asked.
Matilda's thoughts ground to a halt. "But ... you don't have a thesis."
"They said it's possible to actually skip the thesis and just fight a very big snake instead," Cora said. "Look, I've been fighting this damn thing for three years, all the equipment keeps breaking the moment I need it, the first twelve methods for nanocluster synthesis failed, and I think the lab techs want to ban me from ever entering the premises. I'd honestly rather die in single combat with a snake than deal with all this bullshit."
"You'll have to submit something," Matilda said, desperately casting about for a way to make Cora slow down and see sense. "After all, how can they evaluate your bibliography if you don't have one?"
Cora stared her hard in the eye. "Sure. I'll give you your bibliography." Then she stormed off.
Matilda removed her glasses and rubbed the bridge of her nose. Cora was a headstrong young woman, which had carried her this far in her car crash of a project, but now it seemed she'd hit her limit.
Matilda sighed. Maybe Cora would come to her senses after a good night's sleep.
Cora did not come to her senses and ask Matilda for advice. Instead, after a week of radio silence, Matilda received a neatly typeset monograph titled Unsuccessful Methods of Cellulose Nanocluster Synthesis. Scrolling through, it was quite impressive for something that could only have been written in a week. It was also obviously unpublishable in any journal of repute.
As a busy professor with multiple postgrads in her group, Matilda let the thesis sit for a few days, then went through the PDF with corrections before sending it back to Cora. Cora then replied a few days later, corrections done and figures improved.
A few rounds of corrections later, Cora darkened her doorstep again. "Can I fight a snake now?"
Matilda removed her glasses and rubbed her eyes. She could feel the headache coming in. "Do you really think the university will accept your thesis?"
"You yourself have said that science has a problem with no-one reporting negative results or boring ones," Cora said, jutting out her chin.
"And the counseling over your future career?"
Cora shrugged. "I have a Master's; I can go to industry to do that stuff. Or go into pro snake wrestling."
"You seem convinced you'll get a constrictor."
"My bibliography is impeccably formatted."
"That it is," Matilda sighed. "Now, if you insist on proceeding with this lunacy, there are several things to arrange-"
It was with a heavy heart that Matilda found herself at the door of the snake house. She'd delayed as long as she'd dared, but the university had regulations.
"A big snake, I take it?" the snake wrangler said after one look at her face.
"My postgrad's thesis is a monograph on all the things she's done that don't work."
The snake wrangler's eyebrows rose. "That bad, huh?"
"Her career ambitions include pro snake wrestling."
The snake wrangler cracked up. "Well. Do you have the printout?" he asked as he wiped tears from his eyes.
Matilda handed over the monograph, which Cora had very proactively had printed and bound already. It wasn't that thin, but-
"I see," the snake wrangler said, nodding to himself as he flicked through the thesis.
"It's bad, isn't it."
"Well... The bibilography is well formatted?" the snake wrangler offered. "Uh, what size is your student?"
"A meter seventy, muscular, does MMA and has a black belt in something."
The snake wrangler tilted his head. "It will be an interesting defense, I'll grant you that, but so far no students have died. Actually, I don't think anyone's died during their snake fight since John Vonn back in '52. We have safety regulations nowadays, you know."
"Thank you." Matilda didn't quite know what she was thanking him for, but perhaps it was the attempt at reassurance. She did not feel reassured.
Cora hadn't sent any further e-mails or turned up on her doorstep, but perhaps she'd answer her Teams messages. Matilda decided to try.
Matilda Enver: apparently, the last guy to die in his snake fight did so in the 1950s
Matilda Enver: DO NOT CLAIM THIS TITLE
Cora Lang: I am practising python wrestling. I have three weeks, please relax.
All further attempts were left on read. Matilda hoped Cora was being more successful in her snake wrestling preparation than she had in scientific research.
The day of Cora's thesis defense came. Matilda stood outside the auditorium in her full academic regalia and tried very hard not to panic. Most of the time the snakes were unobtrusive, but today's was being transported in a large and obvious container that was drawing even more of a crowd than had already come to boggle. They even had some humanities people.
Usually, the thesis defense's main draw was the science. Today, it would be Cora versus snake.
Matilda led the procession in and did her duties as the thesis advisor of the doctoral candidate as if from a great distance. Cora was answering the opponents' questions just fine, though, which was reassuring enough, except that-
A clack came from the back row. Everyone fell silent.
The snake was huge: over two meters long and extremely thick. It slithered down the steps half by gravity.
Matilda realized she had a literal front row seat to what was coming. She cringed and tried not to hyperventilate.
"The snake fight has begun," the snake wrangler pronounced.
"Bring it on!" Cora declared and whipped out a quarterstaff.
She stalked up to the snake, front of her staff held low and a look of concentration on her face. It was obvious like this that she'd had training: her weight was low and her strides even, despite the academic regalia she was kitted out in. Matilda couldn't help but visualize her tripping over the hems and falling into the snake's maw.
The snake coiled to strike. The moment it exploded out, Cora hit it with her staff to divert it, then tapped the top of its head.
The snake had fallen to the ground, unmoving. Cora poked at it. It didn't react.
"The snake has been defeated," the snake wrangler pronounced.
"Oh thank gods," Matilda said.
After this, she needed a very stiff drink. Maybe she'd be able to get Cora to buy it for her. The girl certainly owed her one.