Below are the found records from that fateful day: March 25, 2019. These are meant to demonstrate the horrors of that time first-hand. They are organized in chronological order.
Diary of Alfie Rambert, Age 17, Kendrick: Second Floor
Date: 4/25/19: 12:01 pm
Today, like so many other days, I woke up with an uneasy feeling in my stomach. Usually, I could just write off such a feeling as the effects of another of the Dining Hall’s ‘meatless Mondays,’ but there was something different about it this time. For one, it was only Friday morning, and two, everything around me was eerily quiet. By this time of the morning, the dorm’s hallways should have already been filled with the sounds of Netflix bingeing and League of Legends aggression coming from every room. Today, everything was silent.
I had never before heard such an overwhelming absence of sound. The more awake I felt, returning to the world after a long and absurdly uninterrupted night of sleep, the more concerned I was by it. Everything seemed wrong, like the time my Intro to Chemistry class was accidentally scheduled to meet in the DAC instead of Fisher.
My heart pounded more every second that I sat on my bed, waiting to approach the door. I didn't want to look out into the hallway, but my next class started in ten minutes and I absolutely could not go without brushing my teeth another time. I grabbed my bathroom caddy and gathered my courage to step out.
I knew I shouldn't have approached the world, as I was shaken to my core by the sight: all my classmates wandered aimlessly, soul drained from their eyes, and not in the normal way! Their faces were pale, features sunken. “Heeyyy guys... Are you okay,” I said, shakily.
My words were the first sound I had heard that morning. They sent a sharp ripple through the air. However, none of them responded. That was until Marcus, a kid from my Spanish class, turned to look me in the eye. As he approached, I felt numb, dissolved. My weak voice was no match for the harrowing noise that Marcus then produced when he spoke to me, his hand reaching for my shoulder. “You don’t know, do you? You are still pure with hope.” Marcus stroked my face with his cold, blood-drained palm. “Yes. I can see it in your eyes. You aren’t like us. You aren’t ruined with the knowledge.”
I readily stepped away from him, dodging contact with his mutated flesh. “Marcus, what do you mean? What is wrong with your skin?”
“Eduroam is down. Wifi is gone. Our savior is perished!”
Failed Email of Joan Ast, Professor of Linguistics
Date: 4/25/19: 12:15 pm
I am not optimistic that this email will even send, but I had to try.
It has been a week since I have received a single student paper and I don’t know what to do. I, myself, am lost within the empty screen of my computer. This is the first time I have stopped playing the Google ‘Dinosaur Game’ in 12 hours. I forgot how to eat, but I couldn't even search for a “how-to” on the internet.
I would say that at least I have my classes to keep me going, but I haven’t had one since Monday, either. Monday was the last time I could log into my Google Calendar.
At this point, I don’t know what my purpose is anymore. The last time I reflected this much on myself was high school. I do not like the feeling. I do not like any of this.
I yearn to feel the warmth of my laptop on my lap again. I yearn for a time when I can drink wine while watching crime documentaries. Red wine no longer tastes the same to me. Surprisingly, I yearn for the orange glow of Moodle. And more than all, I yearn for the day when I can, once again, leave Redbrick. Ian, this is my final call of pity. After this, I fear I might lose all hope.
The Handwritten Letters of Yolanda Roxbury, Aged 19, Found: Posted Around Campus, Written: Unknown Location
4/25/19: 12:30 pm
Today, we will meet at midnight.
You know that your way of living now cannot continue. You know that the sleepless nights and lost thoughts are not what you are meant to be. You know deep down, that this is a call.
When the Eduroam left us, it was not just a misfortune, it was a symbol.
Eduroam was our savior. We mistreated it. Our savior got revenge, now we are left, without meaning and hope.
However, we can reclaim our former glory.
There is still hope.
We must call to our savior, we must praise it.
Tonight, we will do so.
We will gather to bring back what was once ours.
Verbal Report of Ant Lot, Aged 18, APC
4/25/19: 12:45 pm
Thank you for meeting here, brethren.
As special counsel, we must act tonight to take down Yolanda’s dictatorship. And I have finally found our answer. There is another network.
I know, brethren, it sounds faulty, but the rumors are true. There is a network beyond the supposed savior.
It is an underground warrior, by the name of SRDevices. We don’t currently know a lot about it, but our researchers have been sent out to fight for us. Right now, they are attempting to join this underground passage of hope.
If we can join, this will mark a new era. Order will finally be brought to our chaos!
Text Message of Netwon Jones, Aged 17, Crosby Lounge
4/25/19: 12:55 pm
Hey Mom, sorry!
The wifi has been superrrrr
weird and went down for
like an hour ughh
Some sus stuff happened ig
but its back now so whatever
I get this campus is literally in
the middle of a mountain
but like can someone
PLEEEASE fix the wifi here
Soooo glad it’s finals so I can
go home soon : )))
Winnie is the co-founder and President of The Weekly Cad.