“It’s true,” said a representative of the University, “Your last shred of free will has just evaporated.” When asked why the institution was being so open with its diabolical plans now, the representative simply replied, “It doesn’t matter any more, does it? It’s too late now.”
Even a couple of weeks ago, no one had the faintest inkling that a small, overpriced and overcrowded sandwich place in the engineering quad would be individuality’s last stand at Stanford University. When the administration replaces Ike’s with another branch of the company store, it will have conclusively monopolized every aspect of your life.
“Let’s look at the checklist,” said a helpful assistant, when asked about the extent of Stanford’s possession. “Mind was first on the list, and, boy, that was a cakewalk—you come here to have your heads filled with ideas. Body—housing for all four years guaranteed. Identity– to those you have known, you will always be the one who got into Stanford. To those you will know, you will always be the
one who went to Stanford.” “Firstborn child, “ she continued, “Really, all of your children. You’ll try everything to send them to us, and if one doesn’t make it, it will destroy your family dynamic forever. Money?” The assistant started laughing uncontrollably and took several minutes to recover.
“Clothing—you buy that here. Food—you buy that here. To get the impression of going out to eat, you get food at Late Night, or Axe and Palm. Ike’s was like an embassy to the outside world right here. Soil foreign to the bubble. We wanted to shut that down as soon as possible.”
“Oh, and yes—we know where you sleep,” she added.
