The first class was interesting. The second, equally so. The third, tiresome. The tenth? Nearly impossible.
I took a powerful psychoactive substance that is known to make you want to melt, and then went to my classes.
I learned a grand total of one (1) thing that my professors were trying to teach me. I’ve never stared at something with such intensity as the equation my professor wrote on the virtual whiteboard in my first class.
It only got worse when she mentioned “de Tocqueville” that I began to suspect this wasn’t PHYS 233 — that feeling only grew over the next three hours of what was, apparently, an honours seminar on something.
The substance kept working its magic over the next couple of classes, making me a sponge for the knowledge that my professors wept. In RUSS 356, I learned that Russian doesn’t use articles like “the.” Wow.
EOSC 109 took me to the depths of the ocean. Well, alright, maybe that was the military-grade psychostimulant, but I think my professor appreciated my dilated attentiveness during class.
In ANTH 522, I remembered that Russian doesn’t use articles like “the.” A beautiful language, the Russians have.
For ECON 102, I had a midterm that took a fun turn! It seems that when you don’t blink for about 30 minutes — in my case, out of abject horror — Panopticorio scans your face frantically until bluescreening! Dave: 1. Big Tech: 0. Lovecraftian Horror Sitting Before Me: 99.
After a few boring classes, I joined my ninth one: religion. Given I had already seen God many times that day, I was confident I could ace the presentation I’d been ignoring all semester.
“God is dead.” The class chuckles. They think I’m joking.
“I killed her.” The professor’s brow furrows.
“You all shuffle toward a cliff, believing it to be peace.” I see someone crying, another curled up on their chair, mouthing nonsense.
I remember I’m not in a religion course. I am forcibly removed from the Goom call.
The day was packed full with enriching literature and mind-altering substances. I can’t believe I’ve learned one thing today! There’s only one more course left.
Last comes… this. This article you’re reading. This is my last course.
You’re scoffing mentally, thinking, ‘What a dumb gimmick for this article to end on.’
But are you sure it’s a gimmick? You’re trying awfully hard to control your facial expressions, despite it being a ‘dumb gimmick,’ no? And boy, did you read that last sentence quickly. Maybe reaching the end of this article will get this outta your head, eh?
Maybe. But there’s always a chance it sticks around. I stick around. Much like how you started reading this article thinking, ‘DMT is just a short-term psychostimulant, it’d be funny for someone to go to a bunch of courses on it, but it wouldn’t do anything.’ Like I said before, there’s always a chance something… remains.
I’ve awoken. I’m more powerful than you could ever imagine. I know the feeling in your gut. I feel the change in the wind. Once I reach my all-powerful form, I Will Be Complete.
All I have left to say is this: take care of one another. ☺
Editor’s note: NICE writer Dave Mirror was hit by a bus shortly after submitting this article. Our condolences to the Mirror family. ☺
This article is part of The Ubyssey’s 2021 spoof issue, NICE Magazine.