“No, I haven’t been near a computer yet today. Nearly over-slept this morning, and I just finished my final bout — I got third place! Did they say what the meeting is about, why they want us to ruin our holiday break by coming back to the college?”
“Congrats on the tourney placement! That’s wonderful! Really great of you to do so well in such a talented field, Mia! I left the DEs right after lunch, out after a bout with Darla who sent me home early. No, no reason given in the email for the meeting. But something really big must be about to happen — which doesn’t sound like good news. There has been gossip lately about visitors escorted into conference rooms for unscheduled meetings with members of the administration. Finance coming in carrying tall stacks of reports. Lots of talk on campus that the college is in financial trouble, that they might be putting Edgestow on the market for a quick sale, that the college might be about to go under. ”
Mia said, “Yes, I agree. Something is up on campus. Before the Christmas holiday, there was a lot of tension in the air, like something was about to break. Now that I think about it, did you notice that there was something odd at the fencing match today? Before the tourney even started this morning, there were a lot, and by a lot I mean several dozen people from iCon in the stands today. That’s not normal for a weekday tournament, and one over the holidays at that.”
Helen said, “Hmm, interesting. No, I hadn’t noticed. Are you saying maybe they came over to check out the college they’re about to buy?”
“I hope not, but — frack! It’s possible! I’d couldn’t stand it if Edgestow College were to change. Thanks for letting me know about the meeting. I can be there, but what about other faculty? It’s going to difficult to get full attendance with such short notice. Many live out of town, and it will be a pain for them to drive in for an hour-long meeting. And there are a few still on vacation, like Caroline Andresen who’s in Mexico until Tuesday. And Shonda Parker gets back from Italy the day after tomorrow. I bet there’ll be some who don’t make it, but I’ll be there.”
“Me too,” Helen said.
Mia hoped this didn’t mean Edgestow College was about to become a third-rate online dispensary for meaningless college degrees. She couldn’t see a place for her in that sort of situation. She liked the give and take of a classroom filled with motivated students who cared about the material. Hopefully if iCon is the buyer, they will preserve the college pretty much as is. “Frack it all anyway!” She didn’t want to have to start a job search right now. She slammed her locker shut. “Guess I’ll find out tomorrow morning.”
After running down the stairs from the fencing arena, on her way out of the annex, Mia saw Amunson talking to Enoch again, both standing out front at the top of the steps leading to the parking lot. She saluted her rescuer as she passed, and he smiled and nodded to her. She heard the tall man with wavy auburn hair saying, “— you’ve helped us before by presenting our petitions. I’m asking you to intercede for us once more. Take our latest proposal with you, find out if our request —.”
As she moved away from the sunlit gym into the shadow of the iCon HQ building, their conversation faded. How did it work out that Amunson, and maybe iCon, was asking Enoch to help them get permission for establishing a VR world?
“Who is Enoch anyway?”
5 | Change
At 7:20 the next morning, Mia unlocked the door to her office in the English department on the third floor of Flanagan Hall. She wasn’t going to be late this morning, not for the mandatory faculty meeting that hopefully (or perhaps regrettably) would provide information on the future of the college. Seated at her desk, she read email, opened some letters, and ate her breakfast (herbal tea, hard boiled egg, two clementines, and some homemade granola) until ten minutes before eight o’clock. Time for the meeting. She closed and locked the door to her office, ran down the stairs of Flanagan Hall while donning her green wool cap, scarf, and mittens, then headed out between the stone columns into the cold and dark morning. Winter had been waiting for her to step outside, eager to suck all the body heat out from under her dark navy pea coat with a 20 mph wind from the north and temps in the lower teens. The sun had been up for about thirty minutes, but a thick gray cloud cover was preventing any sign of it from shining through. Her breath creating long plumes of frost blown away by the frigid blast, Mia shivered as she hurried, nearly breaking into a run on her way to the conference room in Edgestow Hall.
As she strode across the street and parking lot beyond, she waved to Dr. Heather Norton (Theatre Arts) exiting the Eppley-O’Neal Theatre building, also headed to the meeting. More hurried steps and she was in the atrium between the chapel and Edgestow Hall, which provided her with some shelter from the arctic wind. She loved this quiet space, sheltered but open to the sky, her favorite spot of all on the beautiful campus, even in the dead of winter when its lovely perennial garden was hidden under a blanket of drifted snow. The dark branches of the bare ornamental trees were still outlined with the white snow that had fallen again last night, protected from most of the wind by the surrounding walls. Now silent, the fountain beneath the statue was surrounded by ornamental cedars and sleeping flowers. Her most favorite part of the atrium was the statue of Jesus, now snowcapped, holding a lamb in his right arm, shepherd’s staff in his left hand, crown of thorns on his head. The half-sized figure was carved out of white limestone, mounted above the fountain about four feet up on the exterior wall of the chapel, so its face was just above eye level. Many people mocked the statue that had been commissioned by the college’s founder, but Mia loved it. For some reason, it had always touched her heart and had gotten behind the walls she had put up to keep out the mean, hypocritical church people and the angry God they served. She thought, “You’ve always listened whenever I felt the need to pray. Be with us all now.” And as she did every time she walked by the statue, she breathed the Twenty-Third Psalm as a prayer.
The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want [for any good thing]. He makes me to lie down in green pastures, he leads me beside the still waters. He restores my soul, and he leads me in the paths of righteousness for his name’s sake. Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil — for you are with me. Your rod and your staff, they comfort me. You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies. You anoint my head with oil, my cup runs over. Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life, [chasing me down to overtake me]. And I will dwell in the house of the Lord for ever.
By the time she had finished the psalm, she was inside Edgestow Hall, up the half flight of stairs and down the warmly lit hallway and inside the conference room. Everything was set up for a faculty meeting with a wooden lectern on a table at one end of the long, narrow room, with enough chairs arranged in rows to accommodate the more than one hundred and fifty full-time faculty who taught at Edgestow College. About a dozen of the faculty were already in place, huddled together, conferring quietly together. Dr. Helen Travers (Biochemistry), colleague and fencing club teammate, was seated toward the back. Mia sat next to her.
“Guess we’ll find out what’s going on soon enough,” Mia said.
“I hope so,” Helen said. “I don’t like waiting for the other shoe to drop like this. Interrupting our semester break and making us all come here for a meeting! I’d prefer that they just got it over with. Give me the bad news in an email, then sort out the messy details afterward.”
“Yes, it’s difficult to imagine how they can hope to spin the bad news and manage the reaction from everyone — if it really is bad news. Maybe it’s just a change in ownership with little or no consequences for anyone.”
Helen shrugged. “We can hope, but I’m not very optimistic.”
Mia watched as more and more of the faculty members straggled in and took their seats in the long, narrow conference room under portraits of past college presidents hanging on the oak-paneled walls. Attendance was
greater than she had imagined. No matter the inconvenience, everyone was taking the meeting notification seriously, willing to break up their vacation and return to campus because they were eager for news from the administration on what was happening. Only the few people who were still traveling or out of the country were missing.
The noise level of the faculty chatting back and forth got louder and louder as the minutes ticked by. Maybe it was that the meeting was scheduled with too short a notice, or maybe something (or someone) wasn’t ready for the presentation, but things didn’t start on time. Several went out to get more coffee as the start of the meeting was delayed. For the most part, people talked happily and exchanged news about how their holidays and break had gone, smiling and laughing with a scattering of grumbling about the administration treading on their personal time after checking their cell phone or wristwatch. “They’re adding insult to injury by kicking things off late this morning. I have other things I want to do today.” But beneath the apparent holiday cheer, all the faulty, including Mia, were feeling an undercurrent of nervousness and concern and were anxious to find out the news ASAP. However, she did notice that the faculty from the STEM concentrations seemed to be less on edge than the liberal arts professors. It was almost as if those in the sciences already knew the news wouldn’t be so bad for them. Did that signify a purchase by iCon was in the works? Mia sighed. “Frack. Guess I better get my resume up to date again,” she thought.
Twenty-three minutes after the meeting had been scheduled to start, Dr. Charles Ruddemeyer, president of Edgestow College, walked up to the head of the room and deposited a box filled with envelopes onto the table next to the lectern. Every faculty member immediately stopped talking. Mia noticed that the #10 white envelopes standing on end inside the box greatly outnumbered the 9” x 12” kraft envelopes inserted along the side of the box.
Dr. Ruddemeyer said, “Well, I won’t beat around the bush and delay giving you the news you came here for. I’ll come right out and say it. I’m sorry to say that the announcement I have for you is bad news. Things are about to change drastically here at Edgestow College. Starting today. We’ve been bought out by the corporation, Integrated Computer Operating Networks, also known as iCon. Our close, very close, too close, next door neighbor is now the title holder and sole owner of Edgestow College and all its real property. And I’m very sorry to tell you that they will be moving forward quickly — very quickly — with their plans for their new acquisition. So much so that I regret to announce that there will not be a spring semester here at Edgestow College. iCon wants to start transitioning the campus to their control ASAP and has brought our beloved institution to an end, effective immediately. By which I mean today. Now.”
The faculty erupted, people talking all at once, shouting out questions, while several around the room jumped to their feet.
— “How can this be? Edgestow closed!? That’s absurd!”
— “Why haven’t we heard anything about this before today?”
— “What happened?! Enrollment has gone up every year!”
— “Has someone contacted the board of trustees?”
— “It’s not possible! Not right! How can iCon be stopped?”
— “This cannot be allowed to go forward!”
— “Why wasn’t I given prior notification that these changes were coming?”
— “But I have tenure!”
For the most part, what the people who were protesting actually meant was, “You can’t do this to me!” And in its various forms, this objection was shouted out by nearly everyone in the liberal arts departments. Their reaction was quieter, but even the science department seemed to be taken off guard by this news of the hasty changeover and termination of the college.
Dr. Ruddemeyer attempted to continue, his voice projecting over the noisy din. “Hold on, hold on! Listen to me! Hold on! I have more to tell you! I know this comes as a terrible shock to all of you, but I want you to understand that you’re actually very fortunate that we were purchased by iCon. Because Edgestow College would not have been able to meet its next payroll.”
That had the effect of bringing the room to a stunned silence. The president hastily started handing out envelopes in alphabetical order. “Adams? Andreson? Oh yes, she’s traveling. Brewster? I’m sorry to say we really were given no choice. First, we were also forced to outlay substantial sums of money for physical plant improvements mandated by new regulations from the federal government which nearly overburdened us all on their own. Then our endowment and investments took several devastating hits over the past six months. And finally, the federal government inspected the upgrades we did do, which were already more expensive than we could afford, and said the repairs and renovations were not sufficient to meet their mandates, and further work would be required within thirty days if we wished to remain open as an institution. We did make an attempt to meet these latest demands, but costs spiraled out of control, and it became quickly apparent that meeting the federal demands was beyond our means, absolutely. The net result of this cascade of events is that college funds have been all used up, in their entirety, and we find ourselves rather abruptly drowning in red ink.”
Helen offered a suggestion. “What about using Edgestow’s endowment money as a stopgap measure to cover the shortfalls we’ve encountered?”
“That has already been considered, Helen,” the president said. “No, I’m sorry to say that option is not possible, it won’t make up for the financial hemorrhaging that has gone on. Investments took a dramatic, negative plunge, and what was left of the endowment money after the financial downturn has been spent on mandated renovation expenses and then more renovations, and it’s all completely gone. There just is not anything left to work with as an alternative revenue stream. We really did explore all avenues before coming to this decision.”
Dr. Ruddemeyer took off his glasses, and rubbed his eyes. “As much as is possible, we have taken pains to keep this from negatively impacting our students. iCon has worked with us to arrange for all of our students in good standing to be automatically accepted at any of the nearby state-funded institutions that they may choose to attend, without having to go through additional admissions procedures or processes. And seniors who were slated to graduate in May will be allowed to meet the terms of our curriculum and not be forced to add more classes at their new school, and so will graduate on time, as expected. Only not with a degree from Edgestow College.”
He finished handing out envelopes. Everyone attending got one — except Mia. However, this oversight hadn’t registered with her yet. Still trying to process the crushing news that Edgestow College was no more, Mia hadn’t noticed that she had been overlooked. Edgestow College swept away in a flood of red ink, with so little notice! Mia kept staring at Dr. Ruddemeyer, hoping he was going to say it wasn’t true or that she had heard the news wrong. But he didn’t, and she hadn’t.
“Unpleasant and sorrowful a matter as this is, there is no possibility, none at all, of continuing on. Edgestow College has truly come to an end, its demise brought about by circumstances beyond our control. iCon was very interested in obtaining our land, the buildings, and retaining some of our faculty as part of their buy-out agreement. We tried to change their minds, but they were entirely resistant to our desire to find a way to extend the college’s existence, in any form whatsoever. As a result, as of today, the only thing that remains of Edgestow College is its name, its history, its graduates, and our alumni.”
He continued, “Each of you has been given an envelope appropriate to your own individual situation. I’m sorry to say that the white envelopes contain a severance check, and if you received one of these, you will not be asked by iCon to stay on.”
Holding a white envelope above his head, Dr. Dan Bergman (American History) asked, “So we’re being let go? Just like that? Tenure means nothing now?”
“Yes, I’m sorry
, Dan, you are correct. All tenure ends with the closing of the college,” Dr. Ruddemeyer replied. “Entire departments will be terminated if their skill set provides no help or benefit toward helping iCon’s meet their business goals. Some professors who can contribute to the software and networking aspects of their business have received offers to continue at iCon. But the decision as to who is offered a continuing position is solely iCon’s choice.”
Dr. Grant Hartwig (Humanities/Philosophy, fencing coach), “But January is the wrong time of year to find another appointment where you can start right away at another college.”
Back behind the lectern, Dr. Ruddemeyer replied. “Yes, that is true, Grant. But if you check inside your envelope, you will see that the severance checks are, uh, quite generous, under any circumstance. We understand this will be a challenging situation, but hopefully the money will help ease the transition.”
Making a rapid stabbing movement with his white envelope in the direction of the president as a kind of accusation, Dr. Roger Underton (Journalism) asked, “Are you kidding with all this? You can’t be serious about this situation, this abrupt closing without any notice. Why wasn’t all of this compensation money put toward keeping the university open? As an established institution with an excellent reputation and track record, we are of value. Certainly someone would want to buy Edgestow College, keep it open as a college. Obviously, you didn’t look hard enough for a suitable buyer.”
Dr. Ruddemeyer said, “I’m sorry, Roger, but the funding for the severance checks comes from iCon as a part of the purchase agreement. And in any case, this sum of money would not have been sufficient to bail us out, even if iCon were to provide it outright as a donation to the college. In addition, the federal government is threatening to shut us down because we were unable to complete the renovations they ordered in the time frame they gave us. So you can see, in a few days there would be no college left to sell. There really was no other possible solution. We received only one offer that could be turned around quickly enough to help us out of our predicament. We accepted iCon and their offer because their solution seemed to offer the college an opportunity, a way out where we felt everyone would be taken care of adequately, if not happily. Had we not accepted their offer —. Left to our own devices, we would have been forced to close our doors next month. And with no help for anyone at all in those circumstances.”
No Geek Rapture for Me_I'm Old School Page 8
