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Proudly announcing that they had finally regained the ability to speak full sentences without begging their captors to just let them die, University President Christina Paxson released the two senior students who will speak at this year’s commencement ceremony from their re-education chambers deep in the basement of University Hall.
“They should be good to go, which really is such a big relief for me,” said Paxson, referring to Matthew Langdon ’16 and Danielle Marquez ’16, the two students she had kept in separate small, pitch-black rooms and whispered lies to for over a month and a half in preparation for the speeches. “They have the bland cliches down pat and they’ve memorized the anecdotes our consultants configured to please old, rich alumni down to the word. It’s impressive what you can learn in such a short time if you’re kept out of contact with any allies and subjected to a comprehensive indoctrination regime perfected by the Soviets.”
In order to earn their places at the 2016 commencement ceremony, Langdon and Marquez were nominated by at least one of their peers, wrote speeches that had to be approved by the administration and the Undergraduate Council of Students, and then were locked into their tiny rooms and allowed only one meal of slop a day, slid through a small rusty slit at the base of their doors. Every day at feeding time, each student would be forced to listen to a recording of their mother, coerced at gunpoint by Dean of the College Maud Mandel, congratulating them for agreeing to never speak any words that might be construed as critical of the University.
According to the University website, the only light source in the small confines of the students’ cells was a small projector that flashed phrases like “insatiably curious,” “boundless idealism,” “creative dissent,” “changing world,” “diversity,” and “path to enlightenment” 24 hours a day. Added this year were slides that equated the school to various pictorial signs, such as “Brown = [pizza emoji]” and “Bruno = [eggplant emoji].”
“We are so happy to be here today,” said Marquez, staring vacantly at her shuffling feet, face frozen in an unnatural, wide-eyed smile. “Congratulations Class of 2016! Congratulations Class of 2016! Congratulations Class of 2016! Congratulations of 2016! Class Congratulations! Class Congratulations!”
In addition to getting the chance to hear notes from faculty well-versed in public speaking, the students were force-taught the rhetorical tricks of rephrasing campus controversies and administrative failings as “opportunities to grow as a community,” by a voice speaking through small grates in their cells. The voice, that of Executive Vice President for Planning and Policy Russell Carey, presented itself as a friend and commiserator and stressed to the students that giving up their ideals and entering non-disruptively into elite, evil industries was a “natural next step” for bright, motivated students who “have always believed and now know for sure that they can change the world.”
Paxson stressed how glad the administration was that, for the first time ever, both of their original candidates survived the full socialization regime.
