The dew on campus was moist with retribution. Jacques Peters kneeled on the grass and felt the wetness of the grass between his fingers. “It’s over. I’ve won,” Jacques whispered to himself. Jacque’s eyes were firmly fixed on the Bartle Library tower’s base by the English department corridor. From the place Jacques once said goodbye to Dorothea; Jacques watched the English department office from his pair of military-style binoculars. From that measured distance, Jacques gazed at fleeing professors and faculty running from the building, getting into their cars, and speeding off-campus as fast as possible.
By the time Jacques spotted some junior facility and visiting staff, adjuncts, and teaching assistants about to leave campus, the sirens could be heard in the distance. That was when Peters began his proud strut towards the department office and library tower. Police sirens were blaring. In coordination with local police, county, and state, federal agents all began to pour into campus. It was dusk, but it could have been 12 noon. The scene was a flickering storm of emergency lights and personnel. This was a storm of judgment. As more and more police came on the scene, Jacques just pointed towards the department office, where all the vehicles began to assemble at a massive staging point for the liberation of the office of Rhetoric. The end of SIX MONTHS OF Contesting Admission.
Peters tore off his jacket sleeves, leaving on just his vest. On his vest, insignia marked his status in operation at hand. Jacques Peters was leading the charge. In the full quasi-military outfit, he had assembled, affixed with lightning bolts and “Ph.D.” sewn into the very lining of the vest he wore for this day: final victory. The department was in a very different situation. Inside the library tower, Dr. B and Dr. Harris were standing over a large conference table littered with the English department’s full-scale map. On the map lay small plastic figurines representing staff still loyal to the department and those loyal to J. Peters. The plan was overwhelmingly clear as day when it came to the escalating critical situation on campus.
“It’s over, we’re finished,” Dr. B said while sobbing in his office in the back of the department hidden away from the rest of the staff. There, in his back office, he could only look down at the map in a state of suspended disbelief. “Fucking, Jacques Peters!” Dr. Harris screamed in style congruent with Mexican actor Ricardo Montalbán in Star Trek: The Wrath of Khan. That was when Dr. Harris moved her bookcase to the left a few inches to reveal a secret safe behind it. She entered the numbers “12-13-07” the date of Peter’s rejection letter to the English graduate school. The safe popped open. Inside was just one unfinished manuscript titled with the words: “Meta-Power.”
She took out the manuscript from the safe. She began making her way down the long department office corridor to the paper shredder in the bowels of the office, right next to Dr. B’s office. The very place Jacques was humiliated when Contesting Admission first began.
Now the sirens were louder than ever, and you could see federal agents outside the doors of the barricaded department office. “BANG!” The door jostled a bit as police rammed the door once. “BANG!” twice. “BANG!” The doors flew open. The federal Marshalls lead the charge through the office.
“Everybody hands up!” Full-time faculty and a few associate professors still loyal to Dr. B, and Dr. Harris put their hands up. Others, research and distinguished staff, now, forever tarnished in the annals of academe, took their lives silently and cowardly, each biting down on a capsule of poison provided to them by Dr. Harris and B for this very occasion.
“Noooo!” Everyone could hear Dr. Harris scream as agents cuffed her, dragging her out of the department office in handcuffs, similar to Jacques Peters a few months prior. “What’s this?” Marshalls asked Dr. Harris moments before she tried to dispose of the plans and documents in her manuscript Meta-Power, the very agent of language designed to destroy J. Peters forever in academia.
Peters could only smile and breathe deeply as he saw the papers for himself for the first time. With this said, he put to rest a semester of paranoia and fear around what was finally discovered to be a massive conspiracy against him at New London University. Now fully revealed, this mystery was nothing more than an unpublished set of papers. These would later be read before the Council on Rhetoric Liberation months later by Dr. Harris and Dr. B. There, in front of the court, for CRIMES AGAINST THE ACADEMY, Contesting Admission was finally reconciled. J. Peters would be remembered as a hero in the academe.