“It’s great. It’s like normal LDOC, but no hangovers.”
This was the response from most Duke students today upon waking to the news that the Earth was due to be completely and utterly destroyed in the coming 12 hours.
As is to be expected in most situations involving suddenly announced and particularly certain impending death, many students initially felt somewhat blue at the news.
“Um, yeah. It’s not ideal, you know. Not the best way to start off LDOC. But at least it’s not raining,” said junior Marcus Jones as he gazed absently up at the shadow gradually occluding the Sun.
For many students, however, this tinge of existential meaningless rapidly gave way to the realization that they no longer had anything to stress out over.
“Outlandish revelry has become something of the norm since the news of the end of times became public," said sophomore Zach Rodriguez. “I mean, it kind of fits, right? Since it all ends tonight, YOLO is basically gonna end up being our generation’s greatest philosophical offering. Might as well honor that on the way out, you know.”
Sensing that they’ll never officially graduate, many students are now opting to complete the unofficial graduation requirements while they still can. Perkins staff have given up any pretense of maintaining order and have instead begun providing coffee and hot chocolate to orgygoers in the stacks. Said one librarian: “We were originally providing condoms too, but it became quickly apparent that no one is too bothered about chlamydia when the Earth is facing imminent demolition.”
The administrators have not been available for comment. Though this reporter did visit the Allen Building for a quote, all he could make out through the smoke of President Brodhead’s apparently hot-boxed office was the sound of Dean Sue breaking down in laughter, and what appeared to have been the silhouette of Larry Moneta doing a complete one-man run through of Star Wars: Episode I from memory.
The unusually mortal circumstances have led many students to confess significant secrets to their friends. The following was heard outside the section of a noted West Campus fraternity:
“Bro, I figure if this really is it, I should tell you. I… love you. Like literally. Gayly.”
“Bro! Me too! I totally love you gayly too!”
The two subsequently engaged in a desperate embrace, oblivious to all those around them. In that moment, one might say, they were infinite. This was fortuitous because the amount of time they had left on Earth together was decidedly more finite.
Up on the Main Stage, Jeremih, having realized that this performance marks his last opportunity to do something new and bold with his art, began an operatic rendition of “Birthday Sex,” performed entirely in the nude while painted as a mime and performing ballet. The performance, which began this morning, continues at the time of print.
The general mood on Main Quad has very much been one of joy and celebration, perhaps unusually so, bearing in mind the rather short length of time left until the deaths of all seven billion humans presently occupying the planet. Asked for her take on this paradox, junior Sonia Patel had this to say: “I mean, it’s great. Yes, there’s no future for us. But do you know what that means? No finals. No guilt over not getting an internship this summer. No worry over whether I’m pursuing a career that will make me happy or fulfilled or successful. It’s liberating. I don’t need to stress myself out anymore about whether I’m doing the right thing for my future. I can just focus on making the time I have left worth living. And look! I’m at Duke! I’m surrounded by friends and fun and drugs and beauty. This, this is what life should be. F*** the Earth. There’ll be better planets.”
As for this reporter—well, it appears to be the end for me too. I hope that you have enjoyed my entirely factually accurate reporting this semester. Whether your own personal end of the year apocalypse will be finals, graduation or the dangerous amounts of alcohol you’ll be ingesting this afternoon, don’t sweat it too much. It’s not the end of the world. And even if it were, would that really be so bad?
Bron Maher is a Trinity junior. His column runs every other Wednesday.
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