Two beady black eyes stared back. The rat wore a monocle—a real, tiny brass monocle—strapped to its face with twisted copper wire. Next to it, a second rat was taking notes on a shred of parchment using a chewed quill dipped in ink made from crushed berries.
Sor Juana raised a paw. “Too crude. We are academics, not vandals. I propose we leak his expense reports .” RATOS-A- DE ACADEMIA -
Not mice. Mice were timid, scatterbrained, and easily caught. Rats were survivors. Rats remembered. Rats held grudges. Two beady black eyes stared back
Alba became their reluctant collaborator. She brought them cheese rinds and, in return, they alerted her to grade inflation scandals, falsified data, and one memorable occasion when a visiting scholar tried to pass off a Wikipedia article as his own research. (The rats ate his laptop cable at 3 AM, then gnawed the word “FRAUD” into his leather briefcase.) Sor Juana raised a paw
“Comrades,” he squeaked. “They are erasing us. Without Philology, there are no footnotes. Without footnotes, there is no accountability. Without accountability… we are just vermin .”
The rats went silent.