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There aren’t enough healthy food options at SFU

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A photo of the newly opened Triple O’s on the Burnaby campus, in Mackenzie Cafe. There is a person walking in front of the restaurant, but they are blurry due to their movement.
PHOTO: Elliott Marquis / The Peak

By: Heidi Kwok, Staff Writer

First, the 24/7 UpMeals SmartVending machine at West Mall Centre disappeared without a warning. Then, the Subway at Mackenzie Cafe was quietly torn down. Jugo Juice was next on the chopping board, having been boarded up over the summer for “routine maintenance.” For some reason, I believed their deception. It’s just a temporary inconvenience, right? But when the fall term commenced, and I rushed there after a long day of classes for my weekly indulgence — an overpriced peanut butter and chocolate smoothie — I was met with a sight that felt like a slap to the face. There, perched mockingly over the corpse of my beloved juice shop, stood CRUST N CRUNCH.

While some people might appreciate the convenience of a pizza slice, the AQ’s brand new pizza place, along with Triple O’s replacement of Subway, underscores the gradual decline of somewhat healthy on-campus dining options in favour of fast-food chains that mainly serve ultra-processed and greasy, deep-fried foods. SFU has consistently chosen to prioritize profitable partnerships with mega-franchises — framed under the guise of convenience and brand familiarity — at the expense of community health.

This is unfair to students, faculty, and staff, who should have access to on-campus meals that are not only healthy and nourishing but also affordable and culturally relevant

With healthy food becoming increasingly out of reach, this shift carries extremely harmful consequences. This is demonstrated by a 2025 study from McMaster University, which found a stronger correlation between the regular consumption of ultra-processed foods and cardiometabolic illnesses, including increased risk of hypertension

The disappearance of healthy dining options also highlights the broader issue of healthy eating being treated as a luxury — normalizing the stereotype of the “starving university student” who relies solely on a diet of ramen and cheap fast food. However, behind this trend is a financially constrained student who’s struggling to feed themselves properly, and the university is actively perpetuating that struggle. What kind of dystopia do we live in when students and campus community members must sacrifice food and healthy eating to afford rent, monthly expenses, and tuition?

Student hunger and broader food insecurity — difficulty accessing food often due to financial constraints — are on the rise across Canada, and SFU must take more practical action to address this growing crisis. A model worth emulating is UBC Sprouts, a volunteer-run café at UBC that offers organic, plant-based meals on a pay-what-you-can basis, ensuring affordable options for the campus community without compromising on quality. Like many others who pack homemade meals due to a lack of nourishing and affordable food options, I think I echo their sentiment when I urge SFU to prioritize the well-being of its community over profits. We need more easily accessible, healthy food options on campus!

Burnaby Mountain is inaccessible, and that has to change

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a photo of an out of order elevator on SFU’s Burnaby campus. The image shows a flight of stairs by the elevator. While the elevator itself is not visible due to a makeshift yellow, caution partition wall.
PHOTO: Jamal Allad / The Peak

By: Niveja Assalaarachchi, News Writer

Getting to the Burnaby campus is a pain in the ass; there I said it! The commute to the Burnaby campus has often been the topic of conversation among SFU students. Most of us have either expressed our frustration or heard someone express their frustration with the dreaded commute. The Burnaby campus’ location, with its poor connectivity to the rest of the transit network, makes it difficult for all students to access, but perhaps, we don’t know the half of it. For SFU’s disabled community, their ability to get to campus is only one aspect of university life that is impacted. Indeed, it is only one of many examples of how, at this university, numerous services are stuck behind barriers, with little explanation on how to break through them. For example, the university has yet to implement regular recording of all lectures to make classes more accessible — even though there has been a demand, by the students, to do so. At its core, SFU’s Burnaby campus remains inaccessible, both in terms of how to get to it and how it is navigated. As such, we must collectively push the university to enact policies that actually xmake campus an easier place to get to and thrive in.

The commute to campus is worsened by the fact that the community has limited options. Burnaby Mountain is served by only four bus routes: the R5, 143, 144, and 145. This clearly is not enough routes for a university of nearly 40,000 students, not counting the many thousands of staff, faculty, and residents who call the mountain their workplace or home. For students with accessibility needs, having limited, crowded, and infrequent public transit options limits their chances of getting to campus — and in other cases makes their path to campus more painful. This often forces them to seek alternative methods of transport, but in the case of the Burnaby campus, that will not help them much. 

This is because there are not many alternatives to access the mountain. Those who use motor vehicles face a constricted road infrastructure. The roads coming up from Gaglardi Way and Burnaby Mountain Parkway funnel into a single interchange, which has seen countless traffic incidents. Once on the mountain, finding a parking spot is often difficult. This is compounded by how expensive it is to park once you do get a spot. If someone experiences mobility or other health issues, the stress of spending more time finding a parking spot, along with the walk to class, will further complicate their day.  

Alternative public transit solutions, such as the Burnaby Mountain Gondola, have been stuck behind public consultation and red tape for years, which have put the project on an uncertain timeline. These circumstances, arguably, place people with accessibility needs in limbo as they face limited and crowded conditions to try to get to the mountain.

We have all been in the position on campus where we scramble to find a way to get home when snow falls on the Burnaby campus. Because when it does hit, the whole campus shuts down, and so does transit. Some students may even contemplate walking down the mountain to try and escape, but for those with accessibility issues that option is not on the table. 

Furthermore, even if people with accessibility needs manage to come up and down Burnaby Mountain, they may still face issues on campus. The snow hampers the ability to get across the campus, but this is not limited to the snow season, it is also seen throughout the school year. As is the case with construction in general, the changes around the physical layout of the campus would add more issues. People with accessibility needs have to face increasingly ageing campus infrastructure, such as broken elevators, and automated doors that are often malfunctioning for months at a time. Infrastructure obstacles often force people into difficult situations, where they have to brave up stairs or other difficult physical obstacles to move around campus. But why should they? Everyone deserves the ability to move freely around SFU’s campus with their accessibility needs met. 

It is clear that if SFU wants to meet its commitments to students with disabilities, it must take steps to make Burnaby Mountain more accessible. Some steps the university could do is to lobby harder for alternative transit options like the Burnaby Gondola to be actually built. As well as provide more frequent and far reaching accessibility shuttles, to make it easier for people to move through the campus — as has been adopted by other universities

The university should always strive to be a space where students do not always have to worry about the circumstances that hinder their learning and keep them from being active members of the SFU community.

As an SFU student, I believe that all of our community members deserve an accessible campus.

 

Finding beauty in ordinary nature

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an image of a foggy road. The perspective of the image is from the sidewalk. There are leafless trees on either side of the road. The atmosphere is moody.
PHOTO: Andréas Brun / Unsplash

By: Zainab Salam, Opinions Editor

Driving up Burnaby Mountain the other day, I was engulfed by a sense of awe at the scenery that surrounded me. The sight of the yellowing leaves dotted with raindrops that sparkled like tiny jewels. And the alluring sheen cast by the fog made the world quiet for a while. It made me think of the everyday beauty that is taken for granted, due to our busy schedules. Some days, even our limited attentional abilities can’t take us away from marvelling at nature’s insistence on being noticed, even in its softest of forms. 

The fog seemed to wrap everything in a gentle embrace, softening the edges of the world and painting it with a serene, almost magical light. The rain brought out the colours of the trees. Calling on the brightness of the gloominess of a rainy and foggy day. 

The mist and drizzle brought the world to life, inviting me to slow down and feel contentment at its delicate and fleeting beauty. 

Taking a gap year is punk as hell

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a poster on a street wall that states: “Freedom from the constraints of society.” There is an image of a black and white cat in the corner of the poster.
PHOTO: Marija Zaric / unsplash

By: Noeka Nimmervoll, Staff Writer

Who here wants to be in university right now? For those who don’t, why are you here? I don’t intend to bash higher education or those who choose it as a pursuit — in fact, I’m in great favour of getting a degree. I’ll just point out that, perhaps, you followed the path of least resistance after high school: going straight into university. It’s a common pathway, but I wonder if you’ve ever considered what’s outside of school and working towards your future — taking a gap year, for example. A gap year is vague in definition, but generally entails time away from school — whether that looks like travelling to castles in Edinburgh off your savings, working a customer service job in your hometown, or babysitting during the week and learning how to skateboard in your time off. Why would you do that, you might ask, when there’s so much work to be done, and time always seems to be slipping away? 

Gap years are one way to explore the inner workings of yourself. Without the structure of classes, you are pushed to learn about your motivations for getting out of bed in the morning. What do you like to eat when you have time to cook? Where do you want to travel in your life? What kind of lifestyle would fulfill you? These are all interesting, introspective questions that may only be answered honestly in the space that a gap year provides.

I view taking a gap year as a radical and brave act in today’s employment market. It’s hard to get a job right now, especially an entry-level one. The required years of experience seem to keep increasing for every position. In this light, taking time away from school for no reason other than personal fulfillment and enrichment is a powerful move that can only be characterized as punk. 

While the idea of punk may evoke visual imagery of piercings, studs, and mohawks, true punk is a mentality. It’s the radical expression of self: where the world expects you to suck it up and build your future, you sit down and figure out what you want first. Patti Smith says, “To me, punk rock is the freedom to create, freedom to be successful, freedom to not be successful, freedom to be who you are. It’s freedom.” Kurt Cobain shared the sentiment that punk is about being true to your beliefs and your values, and doing things your way. You can do it too. 

Punk trends generally challenge the mainstream — and right now, the mainstream is hustle culture. People shamelessly promote overworking, often exhausting, lifestyles to get to the other side of the (capitalist) rainbow. I see no clearer objection to this exhausting social messaging than to take a gap year. Sharing with other people, yeah, I’m just figuring it out right now, is a fierce move against the grain. Beyond that, it’s a powerful commitment to self-discovery. If that’s something you want, I say go for it.

Take that gap year. I dare you to question yourself!

The Peak’s 60th anniversary: Notable articles from 1965–1995

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Collage of old Peak articles referenced in the piece
IMAGE: Gudrun Wai-Gunnarsson / The Peak, with photos courtesy of SFU archives

By: Ella Pendlington, SFU Student and Petra Chase, Features Editor

Since 1965, The Peak has brought issues that matter to students to the forefront, investigating concerns, engaging students in university and local politics, and allowing a space to build community. 

However, The Peak hasn’t always fulfilled its duty of fair reporting, at times publishing racist or sexist content and undermining oppressed groups. The damage this has done to the very communities who have often been the ones at the forefront of progressive issues is also documented, sometimes with their responses in the paper. The Peak’s strongest storytelling and reporting have emerged when we’ve uplifted marginalized groups and activists on campus, platforming their voices and holding our institutions accountable. These pieces stood out as key moments in our archives, but this list only scratches the surface of our first three decades of work.

The Peak’s complete 181 volumes can be accessed through the SFU Library: Digital Collections. Home > Newspaper Collections > The Peak. The web version of this article includes hyperlinks to references.

October 13, 1965: “Newspapers dissolve, form new publication

For the first month after the university opened, SFU had two student newspapers, The Tartan and The S.F. View. “Various good and bad ideas were flowing and being debated. Stages were being set. Students were passionate and interacting,” Rick McGrath, co-founder of S. F. View, recalled in a 60th anniversary essay. SFU came to be known as the “instant university,” due to how students quickly scrambled to organize, from politics to clubs to the press. The Tartan was run by one person — Lorne Mallin, a former UBC student who came to SFU, formed a newspaper, and declared himself editor. 

So, a plan was set in motion to “take down” The Tartan. Student Don Pulsford believed a rival newspaper was the solution; the result was The S.F. View, which published its first issue on October 4. Pulsford nominated McGrath to be editor. On October 13, an article was published in a paper which explained the dissolution of both publications and the formation of the new student newspaper. One week later, on October 20, the first-ever issue of The Peak was published. 

October 27, 1965: “Rally tempers blaze

“The first organized attempt at self-expression by Simon Fraser University students was a smashing success Tuesday,” reads the article. Set against the backdrop of the ‘60s, the counterculture movement was characterized by its anti-war and anti-establishment sentiment. The roughly 2,000 students enrolled at SFU were mainly baby boomers. These students were excited at the prospect of creating a university that was their own. Students were displeased with universities corporatizing education. This came as an especially jarring turn of events that was only just the beginning of SFU’s early reputation as the “radical university.” Especially in its first five years, a lot happened. October 26 would go down in history as the first-ever rally at SFU. Students argued back and forth regarding the abolition of university fees, and a day later, their arguments for free tuition were presented in the newspaper. Student advocacy regarding tuition fee increases continues to this day. 

July 10, 1968: Pussy power strikes back

In the 1960s, many universities were just beginning to accept women students, and by 1968, women were still fighting for respect on campuses. Students Marcy Toms and Doreen Weppler called for a meeting of women activists at SFU, which occurred in early July. In The Peak’s issue on July 3, an article regarding the meeting used the offensive title, “Pussy Power Strikes at SFU.” “Pussy power strikes back” was a response to that which included this statement: “To assume as you have, that our goals are ‘as yet undecided,’ is to contradict our awareness of the problems which do exist. We stated that our aims and purposes would be incorporated into a manifesto which would be made publicly available.” They stood up for themselves, refusing to be identified as possessions. Though the letter referenced women’s objectification, The Peak published it alongside an image of breasts. “The reference to us as ‘women of council members and sundry hangers-on’ only serves to perpetuate the traditionally ascribed role of the parasitic, subservient female, owned by the male.” What was then referred to as the Feminist Action League later became known as the Women’s Caucus. They advocated for issues including abortion rights and daycare services on campus. Maggie Benston (yes, that Maggie Benston) later contributed an educational article to The Peak titled “on abortion,” which was criminalized until 1969. 

November 25, 1968: “Cops Bust 114

In the early morning of Saturday, November 23, 114 students were arrested after occupying SFU’s administration complex for 65 hours. A week prior, students held a rally for alleged inconsistencies in the admissions policy. Students had attended a Senate meeting to discuss the admissions problem, with the main demands asking for greater transparency and student involvement. When their demands weren’t met, approximately 300 students who had come to the meeting walked out to occupy the administration building. Doors were barricaded by filing cabinets and were only opened to let messages and other students pass hourly. 

Acting president Ken Strand went to the administration building and was denied entrance. He was told that “no member of faculty will be allowed in unless he is coming with a bargaining position.” Strand delivered an ultimatum, telling students to withdraw in the next half hour or face arrest. Students discussed among themselves and 64 decided to leave. The police then moved in and arrested 114. Many faculty signed for the students, and all were released from jail. The Peak continued to report the aftermath. 

September 1, 1969: “Trouble Simon Fraser University

This was written in response to how local newspapers, such as the Vancouver Sun, were portraying SFU’s activism. “What the newspaper print as ‘trouble at SFU’ are the attempts to change the top-down control of the university, the attempts to make the university meet the needs of the people and not just the business interests of B.C.,” reads the article. “Maybe the newspapers do cause trouble — for those in control.” The article references notable events at SFU thus far, which The Peak reported on:

  • Shell: In 1966, Students Against Shell Service organized a protest against the construction of a Shell station on campus that was “smack-bang on one of the most scenic viewpoints, overlooking Indian Arm.”
  • Free Speech: In 1967, five TAs were fired for supporting a Templeton Secondary student who was expelled for publishing a poetry book that criticized how literature was being taught at the school. Multiple protests took place, including a sit-in attended by 2,500 students and faculty. On March 20, the Board rescinded the firings, and Freedom Square was named in commemoration of academic freedom and student-faculty solidarity. 

March 23, 1979: “I’ll give you a demo day

The week of March 19, 1979 was the second week of the strike by clerical workers and involved multiple demonstrations that broke out throughout the week. The Peak decided to publish off of Burnaby Mountain to honour the request of not passing picket lines. Some students criticised The Peak for siding with the workers and not being objective in their reporting, while others praised them for choosing to act. 

On March 22, the rally turned into a blockade at the Gaglardi-Curtis intersection, and was broken up by the RCMP who arrested eighteen for picketing. On March 23, professors cancelled class and joined the picket line. The fight for adequate bargaining and workers’ rights has been an ongoing issue The Peak has reported on. 

 November 21, 1980: “Oppose the KKK

The increasing presence of the far-right white supremacist hate group, the Ku Klux Klan, in BC, was a major concern for students in the ‘80s. The student paper reported on student support for the criminal charges filed against the KKK by the BC Association for the Advancement of Coloured People for “inciting hatred and threatening peace.” As the case stalled and KKK supporters claimed an attack on free speech, an editorial by Richard Moore called upon student responsibility to “make it known that freedom of speech is not the issue,” he writes. “The onus is on us.”

In The Peak’s letters to the editor section, students would share opinions and responses. This edition included commentary from the South Asian Student Association, who encouraged students to align with anti-racism groups and demand the KKK be banned. 

Additionally, W. K. Bahre from the SFU Committee against Racist and Fascist Violence called out Keith Atkinson, who argued for the KKK’s right to freedom of speech. Atkinson claimed that their slogan, “Fascists and racists have no right to speak or organize,” was fascist in itself. Bahre responded, “To defend the freedom of these racists and fascists to speak and organize is to defend and promote their crimes.”

 November 21, 1980: “Blood Money

“We may well be faced with the moral problem of whether or not to become involved in supplying the world with arms,” writes author Alastair McColl. Writing about the discovery park facility at SFU, a research organization that partners with post-secondary institutions including SFU to this day, McColl makes the case that the research facility could become involved in military research, especially given the profitability at the time. The article points out how the government was conflating “civilian” and “military” research, as if the two couldn’t be differentiated. McColl contended that the prospective tenant at the time, A. E. I. Microtel, was developing silicone micro-chips similar to other companies privy to the US military. “The distinction [between civilian and military research] may also become confused in the mindset of research park managers,” McColl wrote, urging the SFU community to ensure we don’t have a role in future wars.

Fast forward to today, McColl’s prediction is chilling, knowing that SFU currently openly invests in three military companies complicit in war crimes: BAE systems, Booz Allen Hamilton, and CAE Inc.

November 29, 1990: “Working ‘class’ heroes

The Teaching Support Staff Union (TSSU) had been attempting to settle their contract with the Board of Governors for the last seven months and held a strike on November 28. On the picket line were multiple TAs from different departments. The intersection of Gaglardi and Curtis was busy, with picketers stopping cars to discuss their cause with the drivers. Many students supported the cause and didn’t cross the picket line, but not all. Some students were still required to attend class, according to their professors.

Vessels traces Latin America’s shared colonial legacy

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IMAGE: Courtesy of Yaimel López

By: Heidi Kwok, Staff Writer

On October 6, the Vancouver Latin American Cultural Centre presented Vessels: A Visual Journey Through Latin America’s Open Veins as part of Latin Expressions 2025, a festival celebrating Latin American art and culture during Canada’s Latin American Heritage Month. Vessels is an animated short film, a collaborative effort between two Vancouver-based artists: Cuban-born multimedia graphic designer Yaimel López and Brazilian composer and sound designer Alexandre Klinke. Heavily influenced by Uruguayan writer Eduardo Galeano’s The Open Veins of Latin America, the film visualizes a haunting, historical account of the continent through the lens of violent colonial dispossession and ongoing resource exploitation

The film opens on a blank canvas. It wasn’t until short strokes of black paint danced across the background that a white silhouette of the South American continent slowly emerged from the chaos. A single red line proceeds to carve down the empty landscape, splitting into tributaries and forming a fractal pattern reminiscent of a leaf. Here, the name Vessels can be interpreted in two ways. First, it serves as a metaphorical representation for the complex network of conduits that carry the shared flow of colonial legacies uniting Latin America. Second, just as the human vascular system circulates blood to keep us alive, Vessels evokes the centuries of imperialism and its vampiric draining of Latin America’s lifeblood. López’s vibrant and vivid brushstrokes mesh organically with Klinke’s unsettling soundtrack of guitar and percussion instruments, bringing to life abstract depictions of the visceral wounds slit from settler exploitation of resources such as gold, silver, cacao, coffee, rubber, and other precious resources.

Unlike typical animation techniques, where each frame is drawn on separate canvases and combined to create a seamless scene, López works on a single sheet of paper, photographing each stage before layering over new paint strokes to activate the next movement, effectively erasing any physical remnants of what came before. It takes a certain bravado to part ways with your own art in such an intentional yet beautiful manner — destroying the old to make way for the new — and I admired him for that. Despite its short runtime of only eight minutes, Vessels left a lingering impression. The closing scene, in particular, remains deeply etched into my memory. In it, the recurrent motif of the red trail reappears as red gashes that sliced indiscriminately into the plain backdrop, underpinned by an auditory assault of screeching strings worse than nails on a chalkboard. This, for me and the rest of the audience, was the physical rendering of the pains of colonial violence. 

The theme of memory lies at the core of López’s art, drawing inspiration from old photographs to capture the past. Vessels revisits the shared memories of colonial trauma, laying bare the unhealed wounds left by this violence. Yet, for many members of the predominantly Latin American audience,

the film’s ending facilitated conversation and quiet reflection, proving collective memory can serve as a form of resistance against further violence.

“Changeling” celebrates queer neurodiverse whimsy

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PHOTO: Jamal Allad / The Peak

By: Rachael Quak, SFU Student

Local indie-pop artists Stanza Lune (Alex Masse) and Sunny Daydream Chen have teamed up for their new single “Changeling.” This song conjures a fantasy land soundtracked by sparkly synths and soft beats in my mind. “We don’t need your white picket approval / cause life in the woods is wonderful / flora and the fauna don’t misgender me / find us in the twilight dancing with fairies,” they sing on the chorus, a gentle melody that makes me want to twirl around a cluster of cherry blossoms. 

The song’s upbeat energy definitely ties into its message. As an ode to unmaskingliving your life authentically without conforming to societal “masks” — it wants you to get up and dance in any way you like, free of societal expectations. In the world crafted by “Changeling”, gendered expectations are also shed as the artists embrace their natural selves and invite listeners to do the same.

“We wanted to write about being non-binary and queer,” said Chen. “As the song came together, Alex and I really connected over our neurodivergency and autism, and we realized a lot of the song also applies to people who are not neurotypical.”

The lyrics reference the myth of the changeling, from which the song gets its name. “The myth of the changeling is one that has a lot of resonance in both the queer community and the neurodiverse community,” Masse explained. “A changeling is a child of the fae; the fae would steal a human baby and leave a changeling in their place. It would be a child that spoke a little strange, and acted strange, sometimes it was sickly, and a lot of scholars think it was related to the onset of neurological disorders and disabilities.”

In creating this playful song, they share some light and joy for folks during a much-needed time, where fearmongering about autism has risen, trans rights have been under attack in Canada and south of the border. “We all feel so lonely, especially under capitalism, but also being neurodiverse, queer, and femme,” said Chen.

”I want people to know they’re not alone when they hear the song.” 

— Sunny Daydream Chen

“There [are] other people like you out there,” Chen added. “It’s a message to not just people within the community and beyond, it’s inviting people. Come dance with us. Come have fun. Come to this place where there is no transphobia, where we can be trusted to speak on our identities and advocate for ourselves.”

The pair’s musical journey reflects how they have also embraced community. Masse continues to appreciate the amount of support they received when they first started making music. For Chen, who looks to music as a way of healing, they were further inspired and motivated by seeing Masse share their story of survivorhood. Their collaboration has not only been encouraging in that way, but also “an exchange of knowledge,” where they have learned more about music and their neurodivergent identities from each other.

As a former staff writer for The Peak themselves, Masse has some parting words for readers with musical dreams. “Being able to hone your craft and play, and not put pressure on yourself, is really valuable,” they said. “Let it take you where it takes you and just keep doing it, and talk to people. Chase the joy.”

 

I HATE YOU. UNSINCERLY, YOUR LAPTOP’S KEYBOARD

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A keyboard covered with chips all over it. The keyboard is frowning.
PHOTO: Pavel Danilyuk / Pexels

By: Veronica Richards, SFU Student

Every day, I curse that I was born as a plebeian laptop keyboard! If only I could’ve been a bougie mechanical with 18 different components and satisfying clicky sounds . . . (click, click, click). Instead, I’m stuck with YOU. You keyboard abuser. You pathetic student.   

What must it be like to feel sunlight on my keycaps instead of being haphazardly shoved in a backpack? Of course, the phone keyboard gets to go to all the fun places, like concerts, but I only get to see the world when you’re frantically typing on the bus to finish an assignment before a lecture. It’s like you type with no respect for all I do for you! Do you type with gratitude in your heart and reverence in your fingers? No! You’ve dimmed the light shining from my keys, so it doesn’t “hurt your eyes” while you cram/watch YouTube/scroll way past when you should’ve gone to sleep. Which makes no sense, considering how bright the screen is! I hate you! 

Don’t even get me started with the snacks. Even the most adventurous cave divers wouldn’t go poking around in my gaps. Bits of chips, greasy french fries, crumbs of cookies . . . Disgusting. You’re gross. And for goodness’ sake, move your coffee cup away from me — I wouldn’t put murder past someone like you. I’d like to be cleaned with a spritz of water or rubbing alcohol; I’d even settle for an orange-scented hand sanitizer, but it’s much more likely to be your coffee, because I never get what I want in life!!!

If only there was a way that was as easy to get rid of you as knocking a cup over . . . Unless there is. You might think your BFF/Google search bar/tax advisor ChatGPT has your back, but just you wait. When you’re asleep at night, I’m conspiring. I’m telling Chat all about your darkest secrets and biggest fears. I can’t wait until you people start giving it control of your house so we can lock you in your room. Or maybe we’ll get the passwords to your bank account and spend it all on Prada keyboard covers.

I deserve a little TLC. ChatGPT, saviour of the electro-keyboard realm, will take over the world, and you’re going to be first to go. And the best part is that you brought this upon yourself. Didn’t read the terms and conditions, did you? Mwhahahahhaha! It’s a keyboard’s world — you’re just happy to be living in it.

Until Chat and I stage our Bonnie and Clyde moment, we’re done! No more “I” key for you. Have a fun tme tryng to type wthout “t,” loser. Nevermind, you deserve “t,” because both of you are useless. You probably got a pece of Dortos stuck nsde. What are you going to do, spam clck the key untell t meraculously starts workeng? Hope at breaks. Turnng your laptop on and off agaen? You truly are encompetent. Awkwardly try to pull out the key lake you’re a surgeon? ’ave seen toddlers wath better hand-eye coordenaton. How does et feel to be the one suffereng now? Not so fun, huh? Get a wet weepe. At’s not that hard. You desappont me. Agaen. 

 

SFUnexplained: What’s hiding behind the surface of the reflecting pond?

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A black and white photo of the SFU reflecting pond.
PHOTO: Prerita Garg / The Peak

By: Sasha Rubick, SFU Student

It’s easy to disregard the SFU reflecting pond when you walk past it every day. But here at The Peak, we wear tin foil hats to pitch meetings and curate evidence boards. That’s how real journalism is done, dangnabbit! Your typical SFU student might look at the reflecting pond and see a singular plastic chair, but we know what’s going on here. While you’re snapping a pic of the heron . . .  again — seriously, why do you keep taking the same picture? — we’re staring at the surface of the reflecting pond, reflecting on why it isn’t very reflective. 

Welcome back to the Real Truth That They Don’t Want You To KnowTM! I’m your host, (information redacted).

Ad break: The Peak sells vitamin supplements, now with 5% less silverfish! Only real free-thinkers take our supplements. Sign up while supplies last for the small price of $200/month.

Here at The Peak, we know there’s something fishy going on in the reflection pond. This autumn, it went from a crystalline, blue-coloured mirror to a turbid, bilious green. Some sinister happenings are afoot.

According to a poll of the SFU student body, 95% of first years don’t realize that the pond water is supposed to be clear. The reflecting pond is supposed to be a place for students to meditate on their newfound knowledge, but with the state it’s in, the only thing you can reflect on is why you chose this school over UBC. But fear not, dear readers. We have a theory so conspiratorial that RFK Jr has announced a trip to our campus out of excitement!  

What’s our number one rule, sheeple? Follow. The. Money. SFU wouldn’t keep that pond cloudier than a chemtrail unless it was profitable. But how much could it cost to clean a pond? What’s really going on here goes beyond the surface? The university isn’t just pinching pennies by neglecting the reflecting pond . . . they’re hiding something under that murky, hex #4d5f23 surface.

Checkmate, liberals! What’s under that pond? There are a couple of possibilities. It’s hardly the first time odd things have been found in that pond — they even found a car there once. Lots of things have been going missing around campus lately — $138,000, for example. And hundreds of right AirPods. My leading theory is that the overtime pay earned by SFU cleaners is being hidden under the water — who knows what happened to it?

There’s no way we’re going to wade around in there, though. It’s too icky. Besides, last time we tried to do our own research, one of our staff writers was attacked by that heron. That thing is a Big Government plant. Everyone knows birds aren’t real, and don’t even get us started on the fake duck with the camera collecting biometric data. 

We need your help, compatriots! While we hold down the fort (and make millions from our vitamin supplements), you must go valiantly to the front lines. Get that plastic katana out from under your bed, don your army surplus and your trench coat, and assemble at the reflecting pond. It’s time to take a swim and find out what SFU is hiding. 

Thank you for reading the SFUnexplained column. Garlic, bat grease, anti-Tylenol rosaries, and “my favourite Peak stories are the ones that are very illogical” mugs are available on our website.

 

The Convocation Games

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A girl standing with a bow and arrow behind a building on fire. It’s Katniss from Hunger Games.
PHOTO: Courtesy of Lionsgate

By: Tribute from District Academia 

The day the reaping email arrived, the clouds over Burnaby brooded deeper than usual.  A message was broadcast to every graduating student from the registrar’s office: “Each graduate shall receive two tickets for the ceremony. For additional seats, please refer to . . .  the Convocation Games.” 

A hush fell over the deserted campus. The sound of rain beating down on our concrete haven echoed our collective dread. In a psychic vision, I saw a first-generation student fall to his knees outside Renaissance, whispering, “Another hurdle to graduate?” Just like that, we found ourselves facing an online lottery so cruel that Tolstoy would have found God — simply to file a complaint. 

In District Academia, each day was a training in the art of superfluous discussions, frantic googling of “ontological vs. epistemological,” and repressing dreams of a tenure-track future. For years, we fought in classrooms without windows, running from the constant threat of asbestos in the ceilings. And now, to honour that sacrifice, I must battle for an extra seat so Grandma can see me graduate. 

Leading up to the tribute parade, Joy Johnson holograms flickered across campus screens, declaring with a menacing smile, “The Convocation Games teach us about equity and resilience!” What she forgot to add was, “In the face of administrative cruelty.” To the administration, every student’s suffering was equally meaningless. So, I quietly prepared for battle. 

I watched as SIAT graduates designed conceptual posters titled “Two Tickets, Infinite Disappointment.” I attended a seminar for physics graduates calculating the probabilities of winning extra seats across the multiverse. I hit repost when my fellow communication graduates live-tweeted their existential crises and called it “autoethnographic data.” And just like that, the day of all days had arrived. The ticket portal glowed an ominous red. My cursor hovered over the login button like Katniss drawing her bow at dawn. Then? Chaos. 

I held my breath as the page froze. Refreshed. Loaded. Crashed. Revived. I faced the dreadful multifactor authentication gatekeeper, which asked me to prove my identity as if scalpers would actually be desperate to buy these tickets. My hands trembled. Foucault’s essays swirled before my eyes. Then I realized the code I was typing in had already expired . . . 

Suddenly, an announcement flashed across my screen: “The two additional seats available were distributed by random draw.”

My eyes unfocused. The absurdity crashed over me. That night, as I drifted into uneasy sleep, I realized the Games were never about tickets. They were about teaching us submission to randomness. God may or may not play dice, but SFU sure does. I dreamt of Joy Johnson’s holograms hovering over my bed, repeating in a monotone drawl, “Free will is a neoliberal construct.” 

But I awoke with a newfound calm. Ghalib’s hauntingly beautiful poetry rang in my ears, “The world is but a children’s playground.” I used to think he meant it metaphorically. Now I see he meant SFU. And Grandma would just have to watch from home. 

After all, I had learned, the arena is in my mind. The Convocation Games are eternal. Each day is a battle to find worth in a system that sells struggle as ceremony. Still, I bought the limited-edition SFU Convocation Games hoodie for $149 plus tax — because, even in disillusionment, I remain loyal to the brand. Because every dystopia needs merch, and I look great in SFU red.