Peyton stood in the elevator. They were all stuffed. Crowed with security guards, full with suited administrators clutching clipboards, carrying manila folders and cold expressions. The university president’s secretary stood at the front of everyone, her tight brown curls like a helmet ready for war. One of the security guards, Frank, took Peyton’s computer from her hands as they entered and placed it in a brown box. The saccharine scent of cheap perfume permeated the enclosed metal box and stung Peyton’s sinuses. As the elevator vibrated and rocked as it made its ascension. Everyone inside shifted, avoiding eye-contact, looking down or forward. Peyton looked up. The fan above them began with a droning hiss. She crossed her arms, pressing them
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Myriad high maintenance pets preened, collared, and contained within massive structures all on wide, open land. An operation with a budget of about $160 million a year. This place used to be a zoo. Decades ago. More than half a century ago before this place was even thought of, before I was even thought of, or you. My parents used to amble around it, gawking at exotic snakes and monkeys of all sorts. You know what their favorite animal was, out of all that were preserved here all those years ago—I know it seems like eons for you...hmm?” President McGinty stared at Peyton, his eyes bloodshot and the dark bags under his them hanging. Peyton shrugged.
“They liked the butterflies, always entering the butterfly house. My mother insisted they were like live paintings. Artists that wore their little creations on their backs.” McGinty laughs to himself. “There are people outside this campus, running the streets screaming about the end of the world. Twenty professors walked out on their classes today out of fear that the world might end before they’re able to grade midterms.” He continues to laugh as Peyton and the room sits in silence, the black marble in the sky still hanging. “I’m sorry” he says between
Myriad high maintenance pets preened, collared, and contained within massive structures all on wide, open land. An operation with a budget of about $160 million a year. This place used to be a zoo. Decades ago. More than half a century ago before this place was even thought of, before I was even thought of, or you. My parents used to amble around it, gawking at exotic snakes and monkeys of all sorts. You know what their favorite animal was, out of all that were preserved here all those years ago—I know it seems like eons for you...hmm?” President McGinty stared at Peyton, his eyes bloodshot and the dark bags under his them hanging. Peyton shrugged.
“They liked the butterflies, always entering the butterfly house. My mother insisted they were like live paintings. Artists that wore their little creations on their backs.” McGinty laughs to himself. “There are people outside this campus, running the streets screaming about the end of the world. Twenty professors walked out on their classes today out of fear that the world might end before they’re able to grade midterms.” He continues to laugh as Peyton and the room sits in silence, the black marble in the sky still hanging. “I’m sorry” he says between