{"id":1156,"date":"2019-12-26T09:00:41","date_gmt":"2019-12-26T14:00:41","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/girlwriter.com\/?p=1156"},"modified":"2020-01-27T12:48:55","modified_gmt":"2020-01-27T17:48:55","slug":"modern-day-glitch","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/girlwriter.com\/?p=1156","title":{"rendered":"Modern Day Glitch"},"content":{"rendered":"\n

\u201cYeah, okay,\u00a0Wikihow<\/em>. Teach me \u2018How to Make Up Your Own Star Constellation\u2019.\u201d I lean forward in anticipation, waiting to be the next great astronomer of our time, right from the comfort of my Android. In the overcrowded cafeteria, the page loads and loads and loads, and while I plan my speech for when NASA inevitably names a planet after me, it hits me: Wikihow hates me. That\u2019s why the page isn\u2019t loading.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

In retaliation I hit the back button and click on the page again, thinking that I could outsmart it, that the page would load its content before it loaded its loathing of me. But, if anything, I think that made it worse. Instead of a loading circle that spins at the top of the page, this page is just blank now; it isn\u2019t even trying to load anything. I squint at the screen\u2014maybe the text is too small for me to see? Stupid<\/em>, I think. When has that ever happened in your life?<\/em> I open a new tab on my mobile Chrome browser and search in the URL bar: web page won\u2019t load help.<\/em> I hit enter and before I can even say \u201cCopernicus\u201d, the page gives up on itself. It\u2019s just a blank, white page. Right as I\u2019m about to turn my WiFi off and back on again, I get a little grey notification at the bottom <\/em>of the screen, a place reserved only for immediate system notifications: <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Network \u201cStudentWiFi\u201d has been disconnected. <\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI just lost WiFi. Did you?\u201d I look up across the table at my friend Elisabeth who is looking down at her phone, tapping occasionally to the rhythm of DoodleJump. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI guess<\/em> I\u2019ll check for you<\/em>,\u201d she cooes, closing the app and opening Chrome. \u201cNo, I still have WiFi, see?\u201d She turns her phone towards me so we can both watch as she loads our school\u2019s homepage. Only it doesn\u2019t load right away like usual. I place my phone next to hers and as our devices attempt to load different sites, we see the same side-by-side identical and incriminating document that proves we are both officially off the grid: <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\"\"\/<\/figure><\/div>\n\n\n\n

The implications are immediate. \u201cAh, God,\u201d Elisabeth moans, \u201cI have that paper to write tonight.\u201d She goes through the same steps I did to try and get the WiFi back. We both turn it off and back on, try only using 4G, try moving tables in the cafeteria, try holding our phones to the sky like Simba being offered to his new animal kingdom, but nothing works. Elisabeth takes out her laptop and tries to connect, but even that doesn\u2019t have internet. Elisabeth gently slams her head against the table and a few people glance over in concern. \u201cJust tell me it\u2019ll be okay.  I\u2019ve got a paper to write and no internet.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cOk, I mean, I know I love the internet as much as the next guy,\u201d I say, attempting to soothe her. \u201cBut maybe it\u2019s just bad reception in here? Wouldn\u2019t be the first time. Besides, you\u2019ve still got Word and the whole library at your disposal.\u201d I shrug and pick up our plates from the table, carrying them over to the dirty-plate dropoff. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Back at the table, Elisabeth scribbles in her daily planner. \u201cAt least I invested in a good old paper calendar here. You won\u2019t fail me, will you?\u201d she asks the inanimate object staring back up at her, pages wide with homework assignments and club meetings.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

As I sit back down, I continue to look around the cafeteria. I meet someone else\u2019s eyes by accident, some freshman filling their cup with a disgusting mixture of MountainDew and ice cream, and we both quickly look away. Immediately afterwards, I catch the eye of someone else and as they look away, I come to my third realization of the day:<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cElisabeth, no one else is on their phones right now. I think everyone\u2019s <\/em>WiFi is down.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She looks up and raises her hands in an almost prayer-like way. \u201cWe suffer together!\u201d she exclaims to the cafeteria. As she keeps her hands in the air, I see that some people still have their laptops out on their tables and are hunched-in close, hacker-like, desperately trying to reconnect to the elusive internet. But eventually they close their devices and put them back in their bags, too, silently defeated. \u201cWe\u2019ll all fail our papers together!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\"A<\/figure><\/div>\n\n\n\n

It wasn\u2019t just a cafeteria anomaly. WiFi\u2019s down all over campus, every dorm, classroom, and office. So now, walking around campus is an entirely new experience. I can\u2019t tell if people are more or less connected than before. No one has their phone out, that\u2019s for sure?\u2014except for those select few hopeful Interactive Multimedia majors, still refreshing their pages in the hopes that anything<\/em> would load. Bless them, those whose majors rely on a network that weaves us so tightly together and yet is so delicate that one day it just up and disappears. The IT department is so swamped with calls about it that every caller now has to leave a message and there\u2019s a student worker sifting through all the WiFi-complaint ones. They\u2019re not sure how to fix it either.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Around campus, everyone else\u2019s eyes are up from phone-level, though not that much higher. Everyone still glances down, not meeting anyone else\u2019s gaze. It is as if the entire campus is going cold turkey from an addiction we are all ashamed of and no one has the guts to address it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Even 4G and ethernet are down; it\u2019s like we\u2019re in an entire deadzone just by being on campus, like Green Bank, West Virginia. We\u2019ve got no internet of any kind and the phone lines are down, too. It\u2019s a never ending cycle of trying to call geeksquad to fix the internet but the phones are down, so we try to email the phone company but the internet\u2019s down. I\u2019m tired just thinking about it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

And the school itself hasn\u2019t really addressed the issue yet either, because they would normally send out an email about something like this. Sure, the IT department is trying to deal with it, but there\u2019s been no public statement from the school. I\u2019ve also heard rumors that the WiFi is out off-campus too, and still no word from anyone about how or why it\u2019s happening. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

It\u2019s only been two days and people are already skipping class, because, what\u2019s the Professor going to say? Come all the way to campus only to find out whether or not class is happening? It\u2019s not like we can check our emails to see if class is cancelled or not, or even text each other since phone lines are down.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

So instead of my usual habits of checking my email and messaging my friends, I use the walk between classes for some self-reflection. What can I do without WiFi? I don\u2019t have any games downloaded because all I ever did on my phone was use social media and make phone calls and send texts. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

But then everyone, myself included, simultaneously realized there is one game we all have that never needs an update and never needs internet: the No-Internet-Dinosaur-Jumpy-Game. You know the one\u2014that game that opens if you tap the \u201cNo Internet\u201d screen on Chrome with the dinosaur. You end up playing a kind of jumping game, avoiding cacti, pterodactyls, and who-knows-what else. It\u2019s a game where you perpetually run towards the side of the screen with no end in sight, also known as an endless runner, and it\u2019s a grand old time, devoid of an internet connection. My high score is 1300. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Except now it\u2019s called Jumposaurus, a much more eloquent name. I found out about it when Elisabeth and I went to the student center cafe for lunch. My order, a burger; her\u2019s, sushi. We sat next to a packed bulletin board full of dances, giveaways, cars for sale, lost pet rocks, the whole shebang of a college campus collaged on corkboard. I was daydreaming, looking at the conglomerate of missed connections when I focused on a board across the room.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

One bulletin board was commandeered in the student center solely for game scores. Someone wrote in really big, 8-bit letters: JUMPOSAURUS. That\u2019s where I first saw the name. It had a lone piece of paper on it, a printed out screencap of someone\u2019s Jumposaurus game?\u2014they had 1500 points even. I guess that was something to be proud of, since I could never break 1300. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

The next day, I saw more posts about Jumposaurus. The scores were getting higher and higher, to outrageous amounts. 1600, 1700 points became the norm<\/em>. Is it really endless? People were so simultaneously proud and paranoid now that they were taking pictures of their high scores on their devices with another phone and then printing that<\/em> picture out to prove it wasn\u2019t a Photoshopped screenshot (because, surprisingly, Photoshop works offline. Thanks, Adobe). <\/p>\n\n\n\n

But whenever I get tired of no-internet-dinosaur-jumpy-game (Jumposaurus), I do homework. I\u2019ve been getting a lot of homework done. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\"A<\/figure><\/div>\n\n\n\n

Now, other things are popping up on the boards: comics, jokes, and even screencaps of tweets people had saved on their phones. The good ones are getting stolen, photocopied, and, for lack of a better term, spammed <\/em>all over campus. Although the campus employees have tried to take everything down, since technically<\/em> none of them are approved postings, there are more copies than employees and the people putting them up are far more determined than the people taking them down (since those taking them down are mainly students making barely minimum wage. And one time I saw an employee pocket one of the tweet pics). <\/p>\n\n\n\n

We\u2019re also back to passing notes. It\u2019s middle school all over again?\u2014<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cAren\u2019t you in class with Jack? Here, give him this note.\u201d And then you\u2019d pass it to your friend like the most valuable drug deal in history, pocket-to-pocket, no eye-contact.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Professors have obviously started noticing and requested all post-it notes to be left in backpacks. Naturally, we\u2019ve already found ways around this, writing on the top or the margins of notes to get our messages around. We\u2019ve even made a language that the Professors have yet to catch on to, because we\u2019ve adapted normal classroom-talk into a code. A normal conversation might go something like this: <\/p>\n\n\n\n

YOU: Did you get that last thing the Professor said? I think it might be different than what I got.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

TRANSLATION: I wrote you a message, look at where I\u2019m tapping my notes with my pen.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

THEM: Oh, yeah, that is<\/em> different than what I got. Here, look what I\u2019ve got.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

TRANSLATION: Here\u2019s your reply. <\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

It hasn\u2019t even been a week.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\"A<\/figure><\/div>\n\n\n\n

\u201cSo, as I assume you\u2019ve all figured out by now, the school\u2019s WiFi is down,\u201d Professor Johnson says. We all sigh in unison. Some people also laugh quietly, others mumble their regrets about not downloading their docs and necessary journal articles from the cloud. I lean back and whisper to Elisabeth, sitting at the desk behind me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cMaybe she\u2019ll move the paper?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Elisabeth leans forwards. \u201cWhat else can she do? I can\u2019t email her my submission WiFi. What\u2019s she gonna make us do, etch it into stone?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cAs such, I\u2019ve extended the paper,\u201d Professor Johnson says. And as we all collectively take in our breath and hold it, she continues, \u201cand am now requiring a hard copy <\/em>of the paper. Printed or handwritten, either is fine, but it is still a 10-page minimum. Due next Friday<\/em>, not Monday.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThat\u2019s not nearly<\/em> enough time to finish the paper!\u201d Elisabeth hisses to me. Before our revolt can start Professor Johnson closes her laptop, puts it in her bag, and looks back up at us: \u201cClass dismissed.\u201d We let out one last, collective sigh. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cShe wants me to write by hand<\/em>?\u201d Elisabeth says as we pack our bags. \u201cNot in script, right? I don\u2019t remember how to write in script! Why\u2019d we even learn script?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI think print\u2019s just fine. And anyway she said we could type it, we just have to be able to print it out without WiFi. You know, there are other ways to print besides just WiFi.\u201d I put my binder back in my bag. \u201cI\u2019ve got a printer with a USB, remember? We might just have to steal some paper. I wasn\u2019t planning on printing anything else for the rest of the semester.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou brought a printer with no paper?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cDo you want <\/em>to etch your paper into stone?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Elisabeth and I walk back towards our dorm, stopping at the library cafe for coffee. Though usually empty, the cafe was full of students who had nowhere better to be these days. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cJames said he got a bar of 4G standing on the roof of the physics building,\u201d someone says in one of the larger groups. His friends respond with dismissive grumbles.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI heard Steve\u2019s got a router in his dorm.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cRouters don\u2019t work without a connection, stupid.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\"A<\/figure><\/div>\n\n\n\n

In all this chaos, Elisabeth and I had taken to spending more time in our dorm. With everywhere else packed with people, the best place turns out to be our shared dorm. Who knew?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cHey, are you going to see Melissa today?\u201d Elisabeth asks, scribbling something down on a post-it and folding it in half, sticky-side hiding the message. That\u2019s customary now, to make sure your message wasn\u2019t opened by anyone else on the way. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNo, I\u2019ll be here all day. No class until 5,\u201d I shrug, planning out my paper that\u2019s still due in a few days. I roll my wrists and grab a pencil, drafting the introduction. I figure I might as well improve my handwriting in these trying times.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI wish there was a way to get my post-it across campus without having to walk<\/em>,\u201d Elisabeth sighs dramatically, falling back on her bed, staring up at the ceiling. \u201cI don\u2019t want to walk all the way<\/em> to the Social Sciences building.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I look over at her, then to my planner on my bed, then back to her. \u201cMeagan\u2019s on the track team, right?\u201d I ask, reaching for my phone out of habit to text her, but realizing I can\u2019t.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYeah.\u201d Elisabeth turns to look at me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cAnd she\u2019s practicing today in the gym?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cAnd we could get her to run our messages?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWe could get her team<\/em> to run everyone\u2019s<\/em> messages.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\"A<\/figure><\/div>\n\n\n\n

It starts with the track team just running messages around campus, for a measly fee of $0.25. But that\u2019s $0.25 per message<\/em>, every time<\/em>, as I\u2019ve orchestrated it. Suddenly we\u2019re making $0.25 every time some Joe-Schmoe wants to talk to Whoever-Wallace in the next building but doesn\u2019t want to get up. And Runners can easily take more than one message at a time, often running across campus for hours. That\u2019s an easy $20\/hr for every runner, and coaches have come to consider it as practice. Everyone knows to wait by the front doors of the building and to write the name and location of their recipient on the front if they want their message taken when the next available runner arrives. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

I get the Calligraphy club on board too, and they start a homework-writing business?\u2014English major with no printer? No problem! Speech-to-Text, right from the comfort of your own English building. They charge differing rates, depending on how long the paper is and how fast or slow you speak and you can pick whether it\u2019s handwritten or typed. They even got out the typewriters, but that\u2019s an extra fee. Your standard 5-page paper goes for about $10. And yes, before you ask anything, they\u2019ve all signed NDAs. You won\u2019t get plagiarized (and if you do, you can take it up with the school?\u2014we\u2019ve got a pretty solid contract, drafted by my friend who\u2019s studying for the LSATs). I also think they upcharge you if they don\u2019t like you, but I have no evidence for that yet. Either way, I\u2019m an entrepreneur now.   <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Those are the two businesses I manage, since my friend Melissa is on the exec board of Calligraphy club and Meagan is only a Junior but everyone knows she\u2019ll be team captain of track and field by next semester. So I basically I was just in the right place at the right time.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

On other parts of campus, students are taking advantage of their major\u2019s resources, things I had less connections with and less experience in. One such example is the extraordinary work the Computer Science majors have done to monetize use of their USBs for file transfers. If you need to hand in a paper, some Professors are requiring the use of a USB, and guess who\u2019s renting them for $15\/day? They\u2019ve even got CDs and DVD drives for rent or purchase, all under the table, all cash-only.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Other majors have other skills too, and considering that no one really downloads<\/em> porn in this day and age, well, there are a lot of art students profiting off the void that created. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

And if you were lost off campus before, now there\u2019s absolutely no<\/em> GPS. So another group of students, the hiking club mainly, established a system where there\u2019s always someone in the front building on campus to answer any of your directional needs. I overheard someone asking for directions to the ShopRite the other day. Poor freshmen.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

In conjunction with the Directioners, as they\u2019re called, there\u2019s also an impromptu taxi service; commuters and students with cars are ferrying people back and forth from campus to practically anywhere within a 10 mile radius, a kind of offline-Uber, for a nominal fee. Make sure you ask your driver how much it\u2019s going to cost to get from point A to point B, lest they screw you out of more money than you have, because even Venmo is down. Again, cash only. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Other students are coordinating stamp collections for free, public use so students can contact their parents. And along with stamps, other students can get you a flight home if you\u2019re out-of-state pretty easily. Not sure how that one works, but I hear they\u2019re making a boatload\u2014or I guess, in their case, a planeload. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

The school so far has seemingly not made any interventions on any of these business transactions. Neither of my networks, the Runners and Calligraphy club, have been shut down in any way, even though all the money is moving under the table. I guess they\u2019re just turning a blind eye to the natural progression of society. That\u2019s probably their safest option. And what else are they going to do, email us about it?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I heard rumors about an underground network, though. Even more<\/em> underground than anything I\u2019m doing. One where you can get messages to your friends during class<\/em>, even during a lecture, during a test. They say there are Hands, as they\u2019ve come to be known as ready, willing, and able to take your message whenever, wherever, to whomever, within minutes on campus. My Runners take generally 30 minutes to get a message where it needs to go. I\u2019ve never used this underground system and I don\u2019t know anyone who uses it either?\u2014but then again, I also heard that if you\u2019re in it, you\u2019re not supposed to say anything. Something like a Fight Club rule. I don\u2019t run that business, but I\u2019m sure they\u2019re making a killing. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

I found out about it when a letter landed on my desk from a quiet kid I never spoke to before. I think his name was Jonathan, but I wasn\u2019t even sure about that. What I was<\/em> sure about was that he wasn\u2019t a Runner. He dropped the note on my desk as he walked by and I was about to ask him if it\u2019s actually for me when I saw my name, tiny and fine on the envelope. My first thought was Calligraphy club, but then I realized no one there had the purple ink that I saw on the note in front of me. I held it; a heavy paperweight, 32 lb. bond. The good stuff, like for a capstone paper or dissertation. I opened it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

BIS 007 0938<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

I looked back over a John, Jonathan?, and he was already seated as his desk, making his usual moves to avoid eye contact with everyone else in the room. I slipped the note into my backpack for future concerns. There was yet another piece of paper in front of me, this time a test. For now, I had bigger fish to fry.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\"A<\/figure><\/div>\n\n\n\n

As an English Liberal Arts major, I had no good reason to be in the Business building. But if I\u2019ve learned anything during my time in college, no one really cares where you go. Like, ever. Some people say act natural<\/em>, or pretend you\u2019re supposed to be there and no one will bother you<\/em>, but in reality, you could act confused and people will still<\/em> not bother you. Actually, you could be legitimately lost<\/em> and people will still avoid you like the plague. People just don\u2019t want to talk to each other, whatever it takes. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

So it\u2019s 9:33 the next day, I\u2019m pretty sure I passed my test, and I\u2019m headed across campus from my dorm to Business 003. I guess that\u2019s in the basement, since most of the other buildings follow standard room numerating protocol, with the floor being the first number of the room.  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

I walk into the Business building with confidence, but also going out of my mind, because what\u2019s going on here? Why\u2019s this like some kind of mafia movie? They even picked room double-oh-seven. Classic.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I stand in the lobby of the Business building, and although all these students are studying how to work with people and make business transactions, not one of them offers me any help. All the doors look identical and the only way I determine where the stairs are is by the \u2018FIRE EXTINGUISHER\u2019 sign. Those extinguishers are usually in the emergency stairways for easy access. I head in, find the industrial-style stairs where the interior designers obviously gave up, and head downstairs. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

If you thought the designers gave up on the emergency staircase, they definitely did not know what to do with the basement. The drop-down ceilings are half-done, half-filled. The tiles that are<\/em> up there are practically dissolved from water damage and wires weave in the darkness above them. The lights flicker so much I\u2019m surprised there isn\u2019t a seizure warning somewhere.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I stand my ground until I identify the room I\u2019m headed for, unsure how much time I really want to spend in the dingiest location on campus. I guess it makes sense why there\u2019d be some kind of underground society here. No professional offices, no professors, not even a water fountain.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I knock on room 007\u2019s door before letting myself in, as if it\u2019s some kind of office. But it\u2019s not; it\u2019s an abandoned classroom, clearly overtaken by the roots of an underground movement. The walls are tacked with memos and plans and a huge map of campus covers almost the entirety of the back wall. To get something like that printed means they are either absolutely rolling in it<\/em>, or they know someone with unlimited access to the Print Room. At this point, it could really go either way.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

There are clusters of desks all over the room, some set up conference style, some loner ones in the corners, some haphazardly jumbled up. I guess they move the desks when necessary. There are some people at the desks, some I\u2019ve never seen before, and some I recognize but can\u2019t really place their names. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

I check my watch, 09:38, right on time.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Then it hits me: These are all the people in the back of the class. The underground system has been right in front of our faces the whole time. The introverts have made their own network, and are profiting off it. \u201cGlad you could make it,\u201d one of them said, getting up and offering me a chair. \u201cI understand you are running two of the most profitable systems on campus.\u201d They motion to a table next to me, near the door; it\u2019s full of refreshments and hot water and coffee and water. \u201cGrab something, take a seat. We\u2019d like to make a deal.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I take a styrofoam cup and fill it with hot water, then grab a tea bag to steep before sitting down. \u201cWhat\u2019re my businesses to you?\u201d I narrow my eyes, looking over my new host. I think his name is Anthony, but just like the rest of these people, I know their faces, not their names. \u201cAnd aren\u2019t you going to introduce yourself?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He laughs, sitting back down in his seat across the desk from me. \u201cYou don\u2019t need to know my name,\u201d he smiles, \u201cand even if you think<\/em> you know it, I assure you, you don\u2019t.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I pause. So that\u2019s why I don\u2019t know who\u2019s working with the Hands, who\u2019s running this underground system. They\u2019ve purposefully recruited wallflowers so as to stay anonymous, even when they\u2019re out in the open. \u201cAll right, fine then. Let\u2019s get down to it: what do you want my businesses for? What do I possibly have that you don\u2019t?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cA public image,\u201d he says. He opens a file on the desk in front of us and looks through the papers. \u201cYou\u2019ve got a 3.65 GPA, connections with the track team and<\/em> the Calligraphy club, and are known as the first person on campus to establish one of the under-the-table businesses. You practically wrote the book on how to start a company off-the-grid.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cAnd what\u2019s that got to do with you?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI want to offer you more,\u201d he says, holding out his hands as if displaying all the riches in the world. I look around the room, one of the dingiest I\u2019ve ever seen on this campus. At the same time, these guys somehow got a hold of a huge campus print-out and<\/em> refreshments. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cMore of what?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cMoney, mainly.\u201d He closes the file on the table and I notice it has my name on it. I glance behind him to see a pile of similar files, a whole range of different colors. \u201cI want to consolidate.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou mean like horizontal integration? Like a monopoly?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cPrecisely,\u201d he says. \u201cI don\u2019t believe this whole thing\u2019s just a technical difficulty. I know something bigger is going on, and I figured we should profit off it. I can tell you for sure this isn\u2019t going to last much longer. So, what do you say?\u201d He then sits there, patiently waiting for my response, his face completely blank from any kind of emotion or reaction.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\"A<\/figure><\/div>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThey tried to make it like some kind of scene from Godfather<\/em>, like there\u2019s some kind of bigger conspiracy going on,\u201d I tell Elisabeth back in our cafeteria as I stab some broccoli with my fork. A few potatoes launch off my plate as the recently underboiled broccoli doesn\u2019t give way to the tongs. \u201cAnd the revolution is still in motion, I guess. I\u2019m not really sure what they\u2019re getting at. They want to consolidate our companies to put pressure on the school or something.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhat, they think the college is in on this whole thing?\u201d Elisabeth squints, trying to understand such a massive undertaking by an institution that has yet to figure out how to shorten the sandwich line. \u201cWouldn\u2019t they want<\/em> internet and all that jazz? Doesn\u2019t that make it easier to run a school?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThey said it\u2019s all a publicity stunt or something. I wouldn\u2019t put it past this place.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Elisabeth stays quiet, pushing some rice around her plate and making faces in her beans. \u201cAgain, how could they even profit off this?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIt\u2019d make a pretty good TV show,\u201d I say. \u201cAs if we\u2019re all stuck back in 19-whatever, some year that doesn\u2019t have internet or anything like that. Like an experiment about millennials surviving in that time.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cFirst of all, aren\u2019t we Gen Z? And second of all, they couldn\u2019t possibly do that. They\u2019d need our permission.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWell, actually<\/em>, they do<\/em> have our permission. By signing your student handbook, among other documents, you give them explicit rights to use images and video of you, that they take, for school purposes, whether that be ads or anything, in perpetuity. Forever. We\u2019ve already given them the rights to do something like a TV show, if they wanted them.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Elisabeth stays silent. I look out at the sea of students shuffling around to get their lunches, looking for some kind of hidden camera, unsure who to trust anymore.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\"A<\/figure><\/div>\n\n\n\n

There was a sudden incline in activities hosted by the Student Activities Department ever since everything went down. SAD, as we call it on campus, always had a sad <\/em>turn out to their events. But now, without WiFi or any kind of wide-spread communication, us students need new, more innovative ways to procrastinate besides just staring at a wall or watching water boil (which it does eventually). And that\u2019s how SAD\u2019s budget became un-sad. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Elisabeth packs for one such attempt for SAD to provide so-called \u201csafe-spaces\u201d for students?\u2014in reality, they\u2019re just the school\u2019s attempt to get us not to drink on the weekends. This one\u2019s got a cool theme though, Stargazing on the Quad. Elisabeth manages to stuff a blanket into her backpack, along with some water and snacks. \u201cYou still don\u2019t think the college orchestrated this whole no-WiFi thing, do you?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I shrug. \u201cI don\u2019t know. The only thing I do know is that they haven\u2019t fixed it yet and it\u2019s been what, two weeks? I wouldn\u2019t put it past them to have done it all along. And besides, consolidating with the Hands has been marginally more profitable. I barely have to do any work any more, since they\u2019ve got so many people working for they manage it, I profit.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThe school never fixes anything. Our faucet still doesn\u2019t turn off all the way and we\u2019ve already been here for a semester and a half,\u201d Elisabeth says. \u201cBut you don\u2019t see me going around offering to fix people\u2019s sinks for a profit.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou don\u2019t know how to fix a sink,\u201d I frown.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYeah, but if I did, I wouldn\u2019t be charging people.\u201d We don\u2019t talk for the rest of the way to the event. I can tell she\u2019s steaming, but as we walk, she gradually calms down. I can\u2019t remember the last time we fought like this, but I know we\u2019ll be fine. We have been since we met in freshman year. After three years, there\u2019s no way this is what takes us down.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

On the quad, it seems like everyone and all their fraternity brothers are out here. I stick close to Elisabeth since she brought her picnic blanket to protect us from the already-forming dew on the grassy quad. We find a spot between a group of freshmen and the improv comedy troupe, lay on the blanket, and get comfortable.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Spread out, I rest my hands on my chest, my head on my backpack. \u201cWelcome to Stargazing on the Quad!\u201d some student worker booms from a microphone somewhere not too far away. I wonder how he can be so happy and yet part of SAD. His broadcast falters with feedback for a second before he regains control. \u201cAll right, there we go!\u201d he says, regaining control of the system. Awkward laughter. \u201cThis is your captain speaking?\u2014your captain of the cosmos, that is!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

And I\u2019m not sure whatever else he\u2019s saying because I tune him out at this point.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThe International Space Station,\u201d Elisabeth whispers, \u201cis that little light, holding the world\u2019s bravest people.\u201d She points past the bell tower to a little pinprick in the black construction paper of the night sky. \u201cThey go up in a little rocket, propulsed by explosions, only to be left alone, thousands of miles away.\u201d I squint, following her finger. The ISS doesn\u2019t blink like an airplane and doesn\u2019t change direction like one, either. But it moves quickly, unlike a star. It\u2019s an outlier in the universe.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I say nothing, and neither does Elisabeth, and I don\u2019t even think the student worker is talking any more. It is just me and the ISS, a blip among the thousands of stars I take for granted every single night. I wonder how I could have missed something so bright every night for my whole life. I think about the entire conspiracy of this school, and I glance at Elisabeth, the only one I\u2019ve trusted this whole time. I reach into my backpack behind my head to grab my phone as a light, and just as I\u2019m about to write a note on a PostIt to the Hands, I get a little grey notification. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Connected to network \u201cStudentWiFi.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

I stare at it, unsure what to make of it. I check around the quad to see if anyone else has noticed, and I see a sea of students staring up instead. They\u2019re all looking at the darkness looming above us, and instead of ruin it, I lock my phone screen, put it back in my bag, and lay back down. I blink up at the astronauts who are hundreds of thousands of miles away, and yet probably one of the closest things to Earth in space, and I swear they\u2019re blinking right back.
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\u201cYeah, okay,\u00a0Wikihow. Teach me \u2018How to Make Up Your Own Star Constellation\u2019.\u201d I lean forward in anticipation, waiting to be the next great astronomer of our time, right from the comfort of my Android. In the overcrowded cafeteria, the page loads and loads and loads, and while I plan my speech for when NASA inevitably […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":4,"featured_media":1161,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[7],"tags":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/girlwriter.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1156"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/girlwriter.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/girlwriter.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/girlwriter.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/4"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/girlwriter.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=1156"}],"version-history":[{"count":7,"href":"https:\/\/girlwriter.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1156\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":1199,"href":"https:\/\/girlwriter.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1156\/revisions\/1199"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/girlwriter.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/1161"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/girlwriter.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=1156"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/girlwriter.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=1156"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/girlwriter.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=1156"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}