This assignment, as has been said, was split into two parts. the first part can be found here:
The second part, is here:
Have You Seen My Notes?
There is a choice to make and both of the mature undergraduate students, standing at the front desk of their second year biology laboratory class, knew what it should be. Paul Godden and Richard Butler stood listening to the introduction of the practical session, but their attention was most definitely elsewhere. Professor Bradley’s teaching assistant was a nice guy, but obviously not that sharp when it came to unscrupulous undergraduates. There at the end of the laboratory bench, lay the pristine word-processed copy of his old student notes for the lab’ practical he was currently helping the old academic to supervise. He hadn’t noticed his notes were missing, but Paul and Richard had seen them the moment they took their places, and the photocopier was just outside the lab’s rear door. Necessity as the saying had it, was a mother, thought Godden, or something like that; and it was a necessity that after three solid hours in the student bar, he and Butler were going to need some solid help with this practical. As the mixed class of zoologists and ecologists-to-be began to disperse, collecting their apparatus for the afternoon ahead, Paul and Richard quietly slipped the sheaf of papers into a folding clipboard and sidled, surreptitiously, out of the lab’.
The key to doing something illicit, as most psychopaths will tell you, is confidence; instead of standing around the photocopier like a couple of nervous cats waiting for the floor to be electrified, both students stood nonchalantly holding books at the ready. Their demeanor was that of diligent hardworking undergrad’s about to copy the text of the day. Most certainly not about to photocopy twenty pages of energy budget calculations for a handful of maggots, and their detailed analysis and discussion, in order to replicate the numbers—with a margin of error of course—and paraphrase the text. Nope, certainly not. Butler swayed and grinned like a Cheshire cat that had just drunk eight pints of Guinness, since Godden had only had six pints (and two large scotches, but who’s counting?), he figured he wasn’t swaying quite as much. He was wrong. Several tense minutes later, after suffering palpitations of the heart when the photocopier jammed; after Paul had opened it up to see what was taking so long, both returned to the lab’ and slipped the original notes onto the floor behind the professor’s desk. Smelling like a distillery on four legs, neither Bradley nor his teaching assistant noticed anything out of the ordinary with either student.
Godden and Butler had hardly moved more than a step or two back to their bench when a surprised yell rang out, “Here they are!” In unison the guilty pair leapt about six inches off the floor, turning in mid-air with an agility that would make electrified cats green with envy. Fortunately it seemed, the aging Professor Bradley had managed to find his assistant’s notes and was waving them in the air, as the younger man dashed across the laboratory. “That’s odd.” Muttered Bradley’s assistant to nobody in particular. “I looked all round there… they must’ve slipped off the desk.” Even odder still he thought, sniffing the air, he didn’t remember anybody needing to use alcohol this session.