Dear Colleagues,
These are turbulent times, so I will omit the usual pleasantries and begin with the topic de jour.
The Tragedy of Engineering
By now, you will all have heard more of the details regarding the regrettable events of last week. Unfortunately, you will undoubtedly have encountered some of the many fictions that are also circulating, so let me take the opportunity to remind you of the facts that are currently known.
- Late last week, on Tenday evening, a non-authorised student project from the School of Engineering made a hyperspace jump and illegally entered a remote system owned by Infinity University.
- This system was largely unoccupied at the time. It is usually used to train Terraform Engineers, who are all currently on study leave before exams.
- Controllers from The Infinity University Protectorate Division sent an automated message making a legal request that our Engineering project withdraw from their system.
- Our Engineering project then exploded, killing all on board, which seems to have been the entire School minus the Department of Asteroid Mining.
- For reasons currently unknown, those on board also included the Provost, Deputy Provost, First and Second Assistant Provosts, and their entire staff.
- The Infinity University has stated, and we have confirmed, that their Protectorate Division in that system is staffed by two pensioners who do not know how to operate the weapons system. Additionally, it appears that both were asleep at the time of the incursion and subsequent explosion.
There is obviously considerable speculation around the events leading up to the explosion, but the above is all we know with any certainty.
I ask that you please ignore, and ask your staff to please ignore, some of the outrageously wild reports currently appearing in the galactic media, particularly those referring to homemade genocide moons.
We have deployed a multi-disciplinary team to the School of Engineering co-led by the Director of Forensic Librarianship and the Chief Inquisitor of Audit.
We eagerly await their report.
Emergency Meeting of University Senate
The Vice-Chancellor cut short a series of visits to the future and met with the University Senate via time-link in response to this crisis. The highlights of the minutes of the meeting, to be circulated shortly, are as follows:
Titles
All academic staff will immediately revert to titles officially sanctioned by the University. The previous practice, while tolerated, was being abused, resulting in the unnecessary difficulties the University communications team is now facing trying to explain why several senior ex-members of Engineering chose to honorifics such as Warlord, The Conqueror, and Galactic Grand Emperor.
Demotion of the School of Engineering
Inner system planets currently allocated to the School of Engineering will be sealed for the period of the investigation and re-allocated to more sagacious Schools upon re-opening.
The estate of the School of Engineering will be decontaminated and moved into the secondary storage facility in the Department of Asteroid Mining’s premises in the outer belt. Any items that are unable to be stored, or are otherwise surplus to requirements, will be advertised on the Campus Classifieds in due course.
Acting Provost
I am humbled to announce that the Senate has conferred upon me the high honour of the position of Acting Provost. It is not a position I have sought, but I pledge to fulfil its duties to the best of my ability.
As tradition requires, I will set aside my affiliation with my School in order to serve the University. I will, however, retain my title and position as Professor in Exile of the Department of Applied Anachronisms. Apropos of this, please ignore any passive-aggressive media releases originating from my learned colleagues in the Department indicating anything to the contrary. They are incorrect and soon to be sub-judice.
Meet The Senators Morning Tea Cancelled
Sadly the actions of Engineering have forced the Senate to cancel next weeks’ planned morning tea.
We are busy looking for an alternative date, and the Communications Team will be in broadcast contact soon.
In the interim, anyone with changed dietary requirements should notify the RSVP Team as soon as possible.
Additionally, I ask all School senior staff to remind their students and colleagues that the Biscuit and Tiny Cake Warehouse has now been fitted with automated sentinel guns. Hopefully, we will not see a repeat of the looting that marred previous morning teas.
Late-Breaking News
In what I know will be a tremendous relief to all University sports fans and finance executives, I can confirm that all School of Engineering members of the University Hand, Foot & Mouth Ball teams (yes teams, the League, Reserve and Development squads!) are safe.
I know you will all join me in thanking the Accounts Payable team for their fervent dedication to their own substandard payment processes.
Had it not been for their pig-headed refusal to release payment without seventeen additional redundant signatures, the H-F&M Ball teams may have had their bail posted, and the University might be facing a much larger disaster than just the Engineering body count.
Bravo Accounts Payable, we salute you!
The 293rd First Provost (Acting).
About the Creator
Alan D
Fiction & non-fiction writer living in New Zealand. I write middle school children's stories featuring teddys (that are not quite teddy bears) at https://www.teddy-story.com
Peanuts and Crackerjack
Bottom of the ninth inning. The game is tied with two outs, two strikes and a man on second. I tap the bat on home plate. The rigid vibrations it creates reminds my aching digits that this isn't over. The practice swing only adds to the heft of mental burnout... Man on second, willing to chance it. Pitcher eyes him but doesn't give in to the dangerous bluff. I kick up dust, readying the peculiar stance I've had since the days of little league. The bat lays stiff upon my cramping shoulder. Pain has no reason to be acknowledged; it's a fleeting afterthought. The sun sits passed high noon, but the stadium lights are on anyway. They trick my brain into believing they are the cause of this sweltering heat. Sporadic clouds are motionless, they too, don't want to miss this exhilarating predicament. Anticipating the next pitch, intensifying roars from the crowd rumble the stadium... Behind me, the crafty catcher adjusts his stance and spits to the dry dirt. Behind him, the staunch umpire doesn't flinch or even blink; he knows how important his call will be. The pitcher winds up, his grip tells me its gonna curve. The release is fierce! Beads of sweat from his hair and face disperse in every direction as the force of his might is unfailing. My left leg lifts—an instinctual move that will increase the power of my swing. It's all down to my two, bloodshot eyes. They lock onto the speeding, white dot as it instantly becomes the target I intend to destroy. The swing is late, but I manage a solid tip. The ball is taking a fast bounce toward the pitcher who is recovering from the almighty throw! Man on second leaves in a desperate rush! I fling the bat to the side with a sense of urgency and make a mad sprint to the only destination I have—first base. Three defenders race inward to be the first to retrieve the skidding ball. Man is almost on third! I watch the open glove of my adversary, wondering if I’ve done enough to win this race. I switch my attention to his eyes, looking for a clue, some kind of reaction that tells me the ball is in the air and heading his way. All I see is frustration. The deafening roar of the crowd spikes! Something happens that I can’t see! My opponent abandons his post right as my left stride touches the bag. I waste no time turning my head to see the pitcher laying on his stomach, pounding the mound with an open glove. He misses the opportunity to out me and the ball has quickly bounced past him. Excitement grows! This isn’t over yet... It's become an imperative fight to tag out the runner heading homeward. The catcher falls to his knees in obvious despair as he watches my teammate make the run of his life. He knows it’s going to be close when he sees the shortstop fumble the ball a second too long. I jump up and down with no plans on leaving first base. All my chips are on the speed and agility of the active runner. His cleats dig into the dirt, trailing a dust-filled cyclone from the rapid and strenuous strides. With a thrusting dive and an outstretched arm, he lands on his chest to begin the crucial slide to home plate. The shortstop fires the ball to the catcher! It immediately begins closing the gap! Nail-biting doesn't begin to describe the anxious vibe permeating the stadium. The bench begins to celebrate even before he reaches the plate. Forty thousand cheering fans reach maximum crescendo, filling the air with a glorious sound. Everyone knows how this story will end… My teammate is met by the entire bench as his fingers inch across home plate, instantly followed by the unmistakable motion of the catcher's glove attempting to tag him out—its milliseconds too late. The ump swings his arms outward, officially calling him safe.
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