Strange Weather for Strange Times
Naveen Sunkavally
Recently, a Korean man from Texas, where cults are strangely popular, decided that he thought that the end of the world was imminent. He believed that God was going to communicate to people through Channel 18, a local TV UHF station. Throngs of his followers tuned in on the predicted day to witness the end of the world.
Of course, he had it all wrong. God did not communicate through Channel
18 What was the man thinking? What kind of upbringing could drive a man to
such lunacy? How could he be so wrong? Did he ever go to school? After all,
everyone knows how the world will really end, as recorded in ancient
historical tracts by a student observer from the last time human
civilization surfaced on this planet several millennia ago: "Winter had passed MIT and New England by rather quickly the last year,
gathering up its usual assemblage of snow and sleet for a retreat in
California. Hardly a foot of snow had fallen the entire season. By the end
of March, students on campus were clothed in shorts and T-shirts,
picnicking outside Kresge Oval or smoking outside the Student Center. The
nights were warm, and, despite the long, hard problem sets, a sense of love
pervaded the air. "The warm weather continued for another month. The days gradually grew
hotter and hotter along with the nights. Students carried beach umbrellas
and transported lawn chairs out on the grass. Those who usually slept
outside Athena clusters decided to sleep outside. Speakers regularly chose
to speak outside rather than suffer the stifling mixture of perspiration
and agitation indoors. "But soon the weather grew so hot that students started to seek the
comfort of the indoors. Administrators were observed pulling up their shirt
sleeves and removing their ties as soon as they entered their offices.
Eventually, the temperature indoors too grew intolerable. Now students
started to complain. They could not take it any more. They couldn't learn
anything in class. Forbidden by the law of collective morality to go in the
nude, they started clamoring for the installment of air conditioners in all
dormitory rooms. "The official student complaint, made at the ODUDE by various campus
student government organizations, passed through the QUIP, FAIF, GAGA,
GANGA, PVC, HAHA, WEARE, and the CARE before eventually reaching the ODUDE.
"What a great idea," thought the members of ODUDE, as they had Physical
Plant install air conditioners in their offices. "As the end of April approached, students pined for cooler summers away
from the Boston area. But then, suddenly, the weather started to cool down.
Blistering sunshine gave way to rain and sludge-filled streets. ŒWhat
happened?' students asked. They really didn't care. It was no longer hot.
For days students openly basked in the rain and let their shoes fill up
with water. "The rain, however, did not cease to fall. It kept falling for three
weeks, and students once again were forced to remain indoors. As students
stayed inside and prepared for finals, the puddles coagulated into large,
nebulous, amoebic masses. Workers tried to bucket out the rain from the
roads to permit safe travel, but the effort was in vain. Amherst Alley
started to flood. Crew practice was replaced with boating to and from
class, and the administration decided to award Physical Education credit to
everyone at MIT for their ordeal. "Then the basements of several dormitories and fraternities began to
flood. Phone lines went dead. Power lines toppled spectacularly.
Thunderstorms raged. Classes were cancelled. Only the essential
administrators were kept in office while the rest went home, waiting for
the whole ordeal to wash over. "Then one day, the rain stopped. Students thought the worst of what they
had attributed to El Niño had passed when the area around Boston began to
cool even more. The clouds in the sky hovered like a dense shawl, but
neither snow nor rain nor cats nor dogs could be coaxed to fall from them.
All vegetation and animal life ceased to exist. The wood from the dead and
dry vegetation was carted indoors to warm students and administrators. It
was as if MIT was caught in the permanent lull of a hurricane. Everything,
everywhere, was a giant frozen lake. "As temperatures across the Boston area began to drop drastically,
Physical Plant finally arrived at each dormitory to begin installation of
the air conditioners. ŒWe have our orders,' said Ralph from Physical Plant,
as Jamie, a fierce desk worker at Baker House, brandished a whip and shooed
him away, saying, ŒWe don't need no damn air conditioners now.' "One dark, silent morning, an MIT researcher shunned from the scientific
community for his anarchistic views was sipping cider and looking up at the
cloudy sky when he finally grasped the awful reality of the situation. "As he looked around, he could not believe it. He rearranged his toupee
four times. The situation seemed as probable as Disney acquiring MIT for a
paltry 6.9 billion dollars. "But he knew it had to be true. "The sun had exploded." This is the way the world ends. Not with a bang but with a
whimper.
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