by Aaron Thier
The acting president began to recite the dates of significant slave revolts on St. Renard. February 1748. June 1791. April 1923. Then he said, “I imagine you can carry on from there.”
Were there any other questions?
Perhaps there were, or perhaps not, but now was not to be the time to address them: Without waiting for an answer, the acting president strolled briskly out of the room, leaving the faculty deflated and discouraged. Professor Amundsen attempted to strike the table with his gavel and instead struck his own thumb. His cry of pain brought the meeting to a close.
It had not been an auspicious start to the semester. The secretary, who had been in a kind of trance since his midmeeting Malpraxalin® tablet, tossed his pen onto the table, wadded his notes into a coat pocket, and stumbled down the stairs and out into the wind.
Undercover Dean: Blog Post #5
I’m writing from St. Renard, where I’m staying at a bed-and-breakfast called A Piece of the Indies. Not surprisingly, my application to the Field Studies Program in Tropical Agriculture was denied, so I ended up coming down on my own steam. But before I go any further, I have to describe the circumstances of my departure from Tripoli. Sensitive readers be warned: It’s not a story for the faint of heart.
As of the new year, I’d moved my things out of the dorm and I was living in my own house once again. After the excitement and camaraderie of the fall, I could hardly bear to be alone with my memories. It was even harder than before.
I hadn’t gone back to work and I doubted that I ever would, but I was still in contact with Burke and Lehman, and from them I heard some bizarre rumors: Beckford was living in the art museum, which he’d trashed. He’d put student-athletes to work cleaning bathrooms. He’d been pushing a drug called Malpraxalin.
One day I went back to campus to see for myself, but the place seemed quiet and serene. In the library, where I went to warm up, some students were discussing an article on the Telegraph’s website. The president of Keesy College had reportedly said that you could lock a young person in a closet for four years and they’d do as well on the job market as they would if they’d spent those four years at Tripoli.
“But it’s absurd,” one of the students was saying. “He doesn’t even consider the psychological damage that being locked in a closet would do to someone. Trust me, you’re not going to do well on the job market if you’ve been standing upright in the darkness for four years, eating whatever your captors allow you to eat and eliminating waste under who knows what circumstances.”
I tightened my scarf and went outside thinking that nothing had changed. It was business as usual at Tripoli.
But as I walked east across the quad, I saw a crowd of students and professors that had gathered around the big bare oak in front of Pinkman Hall. Since there was a crust of ice on the flagstone paths, I was concentrating on my footing and at first I didn’t see the pale stubby man under the oak, but there he was: Bish Pinkman III. He was stripped to the waist and his hands were tied to a low branch above his head. The rope was pulled so tight that his toes were only just touching the ground, and he rotated slowly as he struggled to free himself. He was much thinner than the last time I’d seen him, although you still wouldn’t call him thin. His soft body looked sad and vulnerable in the frozen afternoon.
Acting President Beckford was standing on the steps a short distance away. He was wearing a black trench coat and sunglasses, although there was only a diffuse gray light in the southern sky. I marveled at how his teeth seemed to be getting bigger and stronger and whiter every year. How did he do it? I was at a point where I felt like my own teeth would shatter if I tried to eat a pecan.
Beckford was attended by his lackey, Professor Amundsen. Both of them were saying something to a tall student whom I recognized as the football player Depatrickson White.
At a signal from the acting president, Professor Amundsen clapped some wooden blocks together. Everyone fell abruptly silent, and for a moment the only sound was the whistling of the frozen wind. Depatrickson White looked up at Beckford, who nodded, and then, taking a deep breath, he drew a short rawhide whip from his coat pocket.
At first, I was struck most of all by the focused intensity with which he went about his work. He took short, efficient, powerful strokes, driving from his back foot and snapping his hips to get all of his weight behind each blow. His coordination was perfect. He was truly a gifted athlete.
But then, as the blood began to flow, poor Depatrickson White seemed to unravel. His strokes got sloppier and went wide of the mark. He looked suddenly like the college kid he was. And he began to cry. This was particularly affecting because he’s such a large and imposing person. He looks like he’s never cried in his life. The Tripoli Tyrants have turned out to be especially sensitive young men, although I suppose anyone might have wept in his place.
With each stroke, Mr. Pinkman III rotated about five degrees, and after a while he had rotated far enough that he was facing me and I could see his round face, pinched in agony and red as a tomato. It was a terrible moment. White struggled to muffle his sobs, and no one else said a word. You could hear the wind stirring the bare branches of the trees. The whip broke the silence with an indistinct, meaty thump, like a gun fired into a pillow.
After a while, Professor Amundsen began to clap the wooden blocks together again, and White took a few steps back, dropped the bloody whip, and began to vomit. Mr. Pinkman III was unconscious by now. Beckford cut his bonds and he collapsed in the pink snow beside the traumatized football player.
If I’d had any doubt about heading down to St. Renard, this incident helped me make up my mind. I went home, packed my duffel bag and carry-on, and bought a plane ticket that very night. I was going out of a sense of responsibility, to be sure—so that I could be on hand in case Megan needed me—but like her I was also going because I couldn’t bear to remain at Tripoli any longer!
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* These statements have not been evaluated by the Food and Drug Administration. This product is not intended to treat, diagnose, cure, or prevent any diseases.
HISTORY
The Carawak people were the original inhabitants of St. Renard. They were a peace-loving tribe who flattened their skulls by tying pieces of wood to the foreheads of their infants. Having lived on the island for thousands of years, they knew all the secrets of the tropical forest, including the medicinal and supplement virtues of every tree, root, grub, fruit, and flower. For instance, the Carawak captured local parrots by burning dried Renardenne peppers beneath the trees where these clever birds were roosting. When the parrots fell to the ground, they were stupefied and drugged, enabling the Indians to tie them up and train and/or eat them. But when Spanish mariners first landed on these shores, the idyll came to an end, and the Carawak were forced to confront new and sometimes troubling situations and realities. Small wonder that they turned increasingly to the natural mood enhancement provided by the psychoanalgesic fruit and sap
of the Carawak Apple Tree, which they brewed into a tea and drank from dried gourds whenever the stresses of the modern world were too much for them. John Morehead Tripoli, British adventurer, Indian sympathizer, and notorious troublemaker, was the first European to taste this revolutionary New World brew. Having led a mutiny on board the merchant vessel Tatterdemalion, Morehead Tripoli was put ashore on St. Renard in the year 1700 and lived among the Carawak for a year until British sailors returned. He would speak for the rest of his life about the magnificent properties of that beverage, and later he would even say that he regretted leaving the island!
WHY SHOULD IT WORK FOR YOU?
MALPRAXALIN® is bioequivalent to the active psychoanalgesic derived from the Carawak Apple Tree, which has been proven to interact with numerous biochemicals in the human body in order to relieve discomfort associated with nonoptimal levels of psychosensation and/or knowledge. MALPRAXALIN® is formulated to include highly bioavailable vitamin cofactors, making it even more effective than the Carawak’s original tea beverage. Not only is it hypersilicum-free, but it deregulates kinetic pathways without mobilizing tropospheric pollutants, helping the body to harness the adrenaltropic power of the adaptogen Tryptosine™. It’s even manufactured right on the island of St. Renard, close to the source of its original inspiration!
INDICATIONS
If you are experiencing any of the following symptoms, you may have a psychological and/or dietary problem. MALPRAXALIN® can help. Take MALPRAXALIN® if you
• Frequently say “Oh no!” first thing in the morning.
• Sometimes feel anxious or have neck aches.
• Long to feel your teeth rattled once again by the wind of youth.
• Are suffering from depression due to emotional disharmony, chest oppression, loin pain, alarming taste in mouth, painful wind, esophageal ulcers, sluggish Kidney Action™, dropsy, or phlegm entanglement.
• Can’t find the television remote!
• Are experiencing difficulty swallowing and speaking due to catecholamine deficiencies.
• Are experiencing shifting political allegiance.
• Keep telling the mailman not to leave this junk mail in your box, but he doesn’t listen.
• Have heard recently that pine blight is destroying the Rocky Mountain forests.
• Are experiencing intolerable zeolite bioburden.
• Come from the tropical third world.
• Are an indigenous person.
CAUTIONS
Side effects that may go away almost immediately, if they occur at all, include
• A lemon-yellow discoloration of the skin
• Retrograde ejaculation
• Synesthesia
• Syncopated mindbeat
• Anticlerical prejudice
• Psychogenic rash
• Transient combativeness
• Bioluminescence
• Anhedonia
• Chemical burns
• Keratoconjunctivitis
• Harlequin-type ichthyosis
DOSING STRATEGIES
MALPRAXALIN® has been specially formulated to increase in effectiveness the more you use it, so don’t worry about dosage. We believe in a holistic approach to dosing: Let your body tell you how much MALPRAXALIN® it needs. Just take at least one with a jelly jar of milk or juice first thing in the morning, then take more whenever you want to. Easy! If an enhanced effect is desired, pulverize two tablets and inhale via the nose.
TESTIMONIALS
I used to drink three bags of wine PER DAY, and then I began taking MALPRAXALIN®.
—Greg, Michigan
I felt the effects of MALPRAXALIN® right away.
—Gary, Indiana
Since I began taking MALPRAXALIN®, there has literally been a revolution in my country!
—Anonymous
I’ve been taking MALPRAXALIN® for two weeks and I’ve already lost 19 pounds!
—Michelle, New Jersey
From: “Maggie Bell”
To: “Chris Bell”
Date: January 18, 2010, at 1:00 PM
Subject: (no subject)
Chris!
They limit our internet time pretty severely for some reason, so I’ve only got a second. I wanted to tell you I’ve been having a good time so far. Last night we set fire to an old wooden cart that washed up on the beach, and this guy Henry tried to roast a chicken over the dirty flames. He speared it on a pitchfork, but he forgot to take the plastic wrapper off, so in the end we had this chicken that was charred on the outside, cold and raw on the inside, and stank of burnt plastic. Henry insisted on eating some of it anyway.
Later we met these three Renardenne guys on the beach and we drank something called coconut wine, which I think might have cocaine in it. It didn’t taste like coconuts. It was good to meet some islanders, and at first I felt that familiar first-world feeling, like I wanted to prove I was one of them, or sympathetic to them, or whatever. But then one of them tried to grab my ass and I hit him in the mouth with a bottle of ketchup. It was only a plastic bottle. His friends laughed at him and nodded at me like I’d passed some test, and after that all three of them were perfectly fine. But the other kids, who I guess were operating with a heavier burden of guilt than I was, couldn’t admit that these guys were acting like assholes, and they spent the rest of the night pretending this high-handed interest in their lives and trying to commiserate with them. The Renardennes knew what was going on and sort of played it up. They were saying things like, “It have a river come down from the mountains just so, but you get hot, let me tell you, you think you go swim, the white man go string you up. He don’t want the black man in the river. He think the black go wash off and get on he white white skin.” It was bullshit, and meanwhile the Renardenne guys were drinking all our beer and winking at me like I was in on their game, which I guess I was. The other Tripoli students didn’t even notice. They just sat there nodding earnestly and saying, “Shit, man, yeah. That’s capitalism.”
Anyway, the director told us to write to family and say we’re heading out tomorrow and we’ll be away from the phone and the internet for a little while. Exciting! We’ve been living it up here in this swanky old house above the ocean, but it’ll be good to see more of the island.
Be well, huh? Keep me updated? Just be a college kid and hang out with Max and don’t worry so much about the rest. At least for now. And don’t worry about me either. I’m having a good time. I feel better already. Maybe I’ll write my own slave narrative when I get back! Like Professor Kabaka says—every American story is a slave narrative. Or should I say Commandant Kabaka? I don’t know what to think about that . . .
Love,
M
FIELD STUDIES PROGRAM IN TROPICAL AGRICULTURE
Student Handbook 2009–2010
INTRODUCTION
Many and varied are the difficulties which will beset you when you first exchange your campus and its surroundings for the vicissitudes of life on St. Renard. Few students realize the sacrifices they will be called upon to make in taking such a decided step. This handbook will enable you not only to judge for yourself as to what things it may be necessary to take with you from home, but will also be useful as a small guide on points affecting your own health, and on matters connected with traveling, diet, and residence in the tropics.
BASIC SAFETY INFORMATION AND PREPAREDNESS
The habits of life in a temperate climate render one unfit for tropical life, and one must change them or break down.
Sun Protection
Panama hats and Renardenne straw hats afford inadequate protection for the head. When compelled to go in the sun, a black umbrella should be used, or better still, one should be provided with a broad-brimmed cork helmet which will not allow the actinic rays to penetrate. It has even been proposed that one make doubly sure and line the helmet with tinfoil, which is opaque to the sun’s rays. It is surprising how transparent the s
calp and skull are to light rays.
Protecting Yourself from Thieves
The thieves of St. Renard are renowned for their dexterity. Their usual method is to divest themselves of all clothing, oil or grease their bodies, and then, imitating the whine of a dog, prowl about on all fours until they find an opportunity of making off with your valuables. If you feel convinced that a thief is in your tent or cabin, do not make use of firearms. The safest weapon is a knife, but your movements must be so quietly performed as not to excite his attention, or your chance of catching him will be gone.
Understanding and Respecting Locals
Something that is perfectly acceptable to you may be unacceptable to a Renardenne, and vice versa. For instance, women should not smoke cigarettes in public areas. This is considered an intolerable provocation.
Fruit Safety
Mangoes are heating and stimulating, and are apt to produce a pustular eruption if freely indulged in. Pineapples should be eaten with great caution.
Water Safety
If you wish to enjoy the pleasure and benefit of bathing, choose a clean place in a river that is free from alligators and go into it very early in the morning, when you are free from every feverish symptom. By no means attempt to tamper with your constitution by plunging into a cold bath in the heat of the day, for thousands and thousands have by that means caused their own deaths.
Insanity
Nervous diseases are aggravated in the tropics. Insanity is much more prevalent on St. Renard than in the United States. Last year, the insanity rate among students per 1,000 for those at Tripoli was just 22, or 2.2 percent, while on St. Renard it was 16 percent.
