Bella attends her classes with faultless punctuality, every time. She sits in the second or third row on an aisle in the middle section of seats, in the classes that take place in big auditorium lecture halls like the main section of Bio; she's willing to put herself closer to the professors in smaller classes like OS and of course her flute chair (third; she hasn't been quite ridiculously showoffy enough to climb beyond yet) is assigned. But right now, she is in Bio, learning tidbits about auxin and tropisms that the textbook didn't cover fully. She's running at about one and a half speed, just enough that she can trivially listen to and process the lecture against her memory of the text while also permitting some mind-wandering. She liiiiiikes her cognitive speedup power.
"That's probably why there are so lamentably few replication studies done," says Bella. "It's a real problem, actually - the people qualified to redo studies aren't interested, so they don't, so we go by old results that one study got one time, and for standard p-values that means that one in twenty results we're relying on is just wrong. Coincidence." She looks at their lab experiment with a small sigh. "One thing I can say for this kind of silly make-work is that if it turned out these dialysis membranes didn't consistently work as advertised? Some undergrad class would've noticed by now."
"If I had a particle accelerator of my very own," she says, smiling slightly, "I'd be more likely to check my own work before other people's."
"Sure, but then the idiosyncrasies of your particular accelerator could still throw you off. If you're, I don't know, too far north or there's a little scratch in one bit of the machine or you're using different software to run it or it's too sunny out. You want someone in Switzerland or wherever to help you."
"And if I had a particle accelerator of my very own, I'm sure I'd take that into consideration. Why, do you know where I can find one for sale?"
"Nah, I have no idea how you'd go about getting one. Don't they have to be built onsite from near-scratch anyway? I think they're big. Can't put them in a shipping container readily."
"Yes, they're not exactly portable. But then, neither is a house." She cracks a grin. "Now, find me a house with a particle accelerator in the basement, and I'm there."
"Anything else I should be on the lookout for? Giant Tesla coils, islands full of subtly diverse finches, Leaning Towers of Pisa off of which you might drop objects?"
"Didn't we just go over how I prefer not to replicate other people's results before finding out new ones of my own? Giant Tesla coils sound like fun on a recreational basis, though. I wouldn't mind one of those."
"I was just listing minimally portable scientific items," Bella says, shrugging and noting the required notes in her lab notebook. "Not filtering beyond that."
Lab lab lab. "Do you have any non-science-related interests?"
"Not particularly so!" Bella says. "Fold anything cool lately?"
Bella grins, self-satisfied. "I actually know nothing about how origami designs are made."
"Guesswork and math," says Bridget. "In my case, heavy on the guesswork, light on the math."
"Would have expected a physicist to go the other way around. Doesn't physics have lots of math in it?"
"Yes. I just happen to think origami design is more fun if it involves a lot of crumpling up paper and throwing it at the walls."
Bella giggles helplessly. This affects her handwriting, but she recovers after a minute.