HEAR YE, HEAR YE!
SFU storm bringers, we have gone on too long walking immeasurable distances from class to class. We are made to feel like hobbits trekking to Mount Doom when we should be trekking towards stable careers (unless you’re an English major . . . SIKE! English majors rule! Screw the haters). We cannot continue to operate under the control of our inhumanly planned architecture. It’s time to wake up and leave your NPC lives behind, sheeple!
I’m not the first free-thinker to awaken to the misery under our noses. A fringe, anti-traditionalist, anti-walking society has been scheming behind the scenes for generations. Now, they’re coming out of the shadows for their greatest heist yet, and we must join them. The plan? Implement moving sidewalks in blusson hall.
We need a hallway that works for us, not a hallway we have to work to get out of! The time we spend wandering around campus could be cut in half with a speedy track that sends us where we need to be, like groceries sliding towards the cashier. Do we not deserve to be treated equally, nay, better, than the Takis bags scooting oh so lavishly to their destination?
Like you, I once thought this walk from the AQ to the upper bus loop was merely a mild inconvenience. During that dark time, my silly, ignorant mind couldn’t even comprehend the possible alternatives. Then, I escaped the matrix (took the summer semester off), and the unnoticed detriments to my well-being came to light. Let me tell you, the truth shines brighter than Edward Cullen’s sparkly jawline, except this time, instead of being hungry for blood, it’s hungry for justice.
Back when I braved the harshness of the Burnaby campus daily, I was forced to put my gains aside and skip leg day. I couldn’t risk getting injured from my alpha male workout routine. I feared that if my legs were too sore, I would collapse in that hall and never make it home. Now, all I have is eight–pack abs with too much mass for my noodle legs to hold. I still skip leg day — I need a rest day from these memories.
Even though I sacrificed any possibility of buff calves, my efforts did not protect me from the unstoppable pain that hall wreaks upon innocent students. Coming out of those three-hour psychology lectures in the Images Theatre, legs numb, about to crash out, blusson hall became a final test of worthiness where I did not want to be worthy.
So, SFU nation, after sharing my story, I ask you to think of all the ways this tunnel of despair has wronged you. Once you find the rage within, you will be ready to join us at dusk on the first half moon after exam season. Together, we will figure out how airports make those moving sidewalks. We will control the means of production! After that, we will be unstoppable!
