One fine day in May at the Zief Law Library, a quite singular event took place. One might even call it unthinkable. To get right to it: a porpoise (and curiously enough, a harbor porpoise) slithered its way into the library; it quickly and brashly slid under the gate. But that’s not the most extraordinary thing about the whole affair; it shouted, “Habeas Corpus!” Of all the creatures to shout “Habeas Corpus”, it had to be a porpoise with a purpose. What are the odds?
At the circulation desk stood Randall drinking coffee from an L.L Bean coffee mug, Troy who was actually sitting not standing, Maddy wearing a cast on her arm, Steffi frowning a little bit, and Yuni waving her arms. In their offices, busily toiling away with their research was John, Tim, and Mike. Suzanne and Shannon were in their offices in the back. The porpoise interrupted the circ. staff debating the merits of a good toast rack; the sides were split on the benefits of this breakfast table necessity when the porpoise barged in.
“Habeas Corpus!” cried the porpoise.
“That’s Medieval Latin for to hold a body, I believe,” said Maddy who was a Classical Studies student.
“Do you have a student ID?” asked Randall to the purposeful porpoise.
The porpoise slid up to the circulation desk.
Steffi placed Suzanne’s card in its mouth and said, “Hello Mr. Porpoise. Please email our director about access to our library.”
The porpoise swallowed the card and repeated,” Habeas Corpus.”
“What’s he saying?” Yuni asked.
“Habeas Corpus,” stated Troy
“I don’t think he’s saying Habeas Corpus,” Randall said furrowing her brow. “I just hear clicking and creaking sounds.”
“He definitely is saying Habeas Corpus,” declared Troy.
“Let’s send him to the research desk,” suggested Yuni.
Steffi called the research desk and Tim, Mike and John emerged from their offices.
“What’s all the commotion?” asked John.
Tim smiled politely.
“Let’s all go into my office and figure this out,” suggested Mike.
So, Mike, Tim, and John led the porpoise into the office and closed the door; hushed voices and loud clicking and creaking could be heard.
The circ. staff waited and wondered.
When they returned with the porpoise trailing behind them, the research staff all were smiling.
“All is solved,” stated John.
“Yes,” said Mike, “The porpoise is simply lost.”
“Simply!?” said Steffi, flabbergasted. “Simply!?
“Yes,” said Mike, “It is lost and simply using echolocation to find its way back to, one might say, his school. Ha ha.”
“Echo locution?” asked Yuni. “Was he unconsciously adopting the jargon and vocal mannerisms of a law student?”
“No,” answered John, “Echolocation. The sonar-like system used by dolphins, bats and other critters to detect objects in order to safely negotiate their environment.”
“Is this common in California? I mean for porpoises to wander into libraries. They’ll never believe this back home in New England,” uttered Tim.
“Well,” answered Troy, “much like surfers, cetaceans such as dolphins, porpoises and whales operate in organized social groups kinda like subcultures.”
“I’ll bet the poor creature just misses his school pals,” Randall lamented.
Then the porpoise glided away under the gate and through the door; he was headed to the admissions office; he wanted a scholarship.