CHAPTER 1
Ria’s POV:
People are particularly stupid today, it seems. My eyes narrow at the three guys sat a few seats below me in my cognitive psychology lecture hall, as one of them makes another one of their moronic quips, in a poor attempt to be the class clown.
Professor Langley seems to be struggling to restrain herself from smacking the hell out of them too. This wasn’t the first time these guys tried to get attention by asking dumb questions, or making dumb comments they thought would be hilarious.
However, a few girls sat diagonally from them, were bursting out laughing, like they’re the funniest people alive. And throughout the room there were some giggles and chuckles here and there. I could swear I saw Langley’s blue eyes twitch from anger behind those thin, round-rimmed glasses.
Poor woman. She’s simply here to teach us about the Stroop Effect and earn her paycheck for it, but they just have to test her limits. Professor Langley is actually a really tolerant, sweet and extremely intelligent women, though simply cause she’s older than most of our professors, guys like this think it’s okay to mess around in her class, because they know she won’t do anything about it.
They’re probably just mad that they failed her class again. Sometimes I forget certain people just have rich parents that paid for their kids’ way into Ivy University—The original Ivy League. Or at least, it used to be, until the other Ivy Leagues decided our methodolgy, rules, admission, etc, didn’t conform to theirs, and they threw Ivy University out of the Ivy League. Pricks.
Not that anyone truly cared, despite it not being an Ivy League anymore, it still was one of the best and most prestigious universities in the world. Our school was quite strict about academics. So even if you were here thanks to a hockey or football scholarship, you still had to have a good average and stable GPA, or you’d be thrown out of there quicker than you flunked your exams. So I’m sure you can imagine my surprise to still see the three morons sitting below me. Perhaps, they have a good average in other other classes. Professor Langley sighs and looks at her watch with a sad expression, seeing as it is time to finish up. “Class dismissed.”
I start packing up my stuff slowly, as everyone else rushes out. I hate how little comments like those boys made, upset professor Langley so much. I know what it’s like to have people walk all over you, simply because you don’t know how to defend yourself.
She always starts class with a smile and passionalety explains all these different experiments, mechanisms, theories,... And by the end of it she leaves with a sad look in her eyes. Like she’s given her whole life studying to become a cognitive psychology professor and no one seems to give a fuck about what she teaches, yet everyone seemed to love toying with the poor woman.
So I make my way down the stairs of the lecture hall as one of the last students inside, just as professor Langley is gathering her papers on her desk, and decide to go up to her and ask her a question about her lesson today, simply so she knows that there are students in this lecture hall that listen to her, and that her being here does mean something. That it matters.
“Professor Langley?” I make my way towards her. A small smile appearing on her face, as she sees me. “Miss Winters,” she puts her papers back on the desk and gives me her full attention.
“I was hoping you could help me understand something better. In today’s lecture, you mentioned how the Stroop Effect highlights the conflict between automatic and controlled processes. I get that reading is automatic and naming the ink color is controlled, but why does the automatic process of reading seem so overpowering? It feels like it’s more than just a competition for cognitive resources.”
Professor Langley’s eyes light up with a mix of appreciation and relief. “That’s a great question. The Stroop Effect indeed illustrates more than just a battle for cognitive resources. The key lies in the nature of automaticity and cognitive control. When we encounter a word, especially a frequent one, our brain has developed a highly efficient, automatic pathway for reading it. This process is so ingrained that it can override other tasks.”
A girl with curly black hair, I’m pretty sure is named Sophia, is standing next to me now, listening carefully to Langley’s response. Just at the same time a brunette guy from the rows in the back, also stands to listen to professor Langley explain. I can just see the way her eyes light up from seeing that there are students genuinely interested in the subject.
She pauses to ensure we’re following. “The conflict occurs because reading is not just a simple task—it’s a deeply ingrained habit that operates almost without conscious awareness. When you try to name the ink color, you’re engaging a controlled process that requires conscious effort. The automatic reading process interferes because it’s both fast and powerful, essentially ‘hijacking’ your attention.”
“So, it’s not just that both tasks are competing for attention but that the automatic reading process is so dominant and habitual that it becomes a significant obstacle?” The brunette guy asks.
“Precisely,” she says, nodding. “The automatic process of reading can overshadow the controlled task because it’s so well-practiced and efficient. It’s like having a loud noise in the background while you’re trying to focus on a quiet conversation—it’s hard to ignore. The Stroop Effect highlights how automatic processes can influence our cognitive performance and reveal the limits of our control over them.”
“That makes a lot more sense now. Thank you for clarifying.” I smile kindly at her.
Professor Langley’s smile broadens as she looks at the three of us. “I’m glad I could help. Feel free to ask if you have any more doubts.”
As I turn to leave, I notice her expression softening, the tension from earlier seeming to lift. I leave the lecture hall feeling a bit more connected to the material and hopeful that my small act of engagement might make a difference in her afternoon.
As I step foot outside I immediatley zip up my jacket, feeling the chilly early October weather starting to show. Cognitive psychology was my last class of the day, so I start to head back to my place, when my phone buzzes in my jacket pocket. When I look at the caller ID I see Gia’s name appear together with a picture of her looking absolutely disgusted. It was back when our quadruplet sister Liara was telling us about the ‘crazy sex’ she just had. I just had to take a picture of Giana’s face, and ever since that day it was her caller ID picture in my phone.
