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State

Adam Brinckerhoff

    It was the last university in the country to require in-person attendance. Most schools were completely online. A few offered either option. But not here. Some called it traditional. Others called it antiquated. Most just called it State.
    Alan came to State because he was supposed to. As a fourth generation legacy, he barely had to fill out an application. He didn’t really want to be here, but he figured that it wasn’t worth the fight with his father.
    Ann came to State because she had to. She filled out an application as an afterthought because her mom insisted that she have a safety school. Apparently white and midwestern wasn’t diverse enough for her top choice.
    Despite its antiquated attendance policy, State still utilized most standard technology in order to keep a close eye on its students. Biometric scanners automatically kept track of who came to class. Robotic residential advisors provided 24/7 emotional support and medical attention. And the highest resolution cameras on the market constantly monitored every inch of campus. Well, almost every inch.
    After attending high school online, Alan found the community at State to be exhilarating. He quickly made several friends and spent most of his time playing pick-up basketball and hosting all-night video game marathons. He was too busy having fun to study, but he figured he’d get decent grades anyway.
    After attending high school in person, Ann just wanted to be left alone. She was determined to prove that she was too good to be at State, and that meant getting a 4.0 until she could transfer. Occasionally, her roommate could coax her into a study break with a walk to a coffee shop or a performance at the music school.
    Greek life at State was vibrant, which reinforced its time-honored reputation. Every October, the top fraternity would host the top sorority for the party of the semester. Invitation only, shrouded in secrecy. There were countless rumors, but invitees knew that the central feature was the Black Box.
    Alan was invited because his great-grandfather had started the frat. He was also pledging, but was undecided if he wanted to join. He didn’t want to make all of the same decisions as the other men in his family, but he wasn’t sure when to break rank.
    Ann was invited because of her high school credentials. Her roommate desperately wanted to join the sorority, and she made a deal with the girls in power that she could come if Ann did too. Successful alumni garnered notoriety and donations for the sorority, and Ann had the potential to provide both. Ann was flattered but skeptical. Her roommate proved to be persuasive.
    The hosting fraternity house operated within a judicial gray area at the university. It was technically subject to all the same monitoring rules as any other building. But since many of its alumni gave generously, oversight was more lax. That allowed the frat to maintain the Black Box, a bedroom without any video or audio recording equipment.
    Alan arrived at the party feeling out of place. These frat parties were all starting to feel the same. None of the other guys had a unique personality or anything interesting to say. He didn’t want these friends. He didn’t want this life. He drank accordingly.
    Ann showed up ready to party. She had just gotten a C on a major psychology paper, and was desperate to bury the feeling of failure. As she mingled with the sorority sisters, she was pleasantly surprised that they were all incredibly nice. And fun. Maybe she did need to get out more. Alcohol did help her forget.
    For the first hour, the guys and girls partied separately. Then each side nominated a freshman to enter the Black Box. Some claimed that it had led to several marriages. Others thought it was just a way to help underclassmen get some action. Either way, it was an enduring tradition. Unsurprisingly, Alan and Ann were chosen. Both of their drinks were spiked. Neither of them remembered entering the room.

***

    Alan woke up in a police car. He refused to talk to the cops.
    Ann woke up in a hospital bed. She refused an intrusive medical examination.
    Even though the judicial system implied innocence until guilt was proven, the campus officers were not accustomed to a case with this little hard evidence. The chasm of the unknown made them uneasy, and making assumptions helped them regain a false sense of control. They assumed that Alan had spiked both drinks despite conflicting witness testimony. They assumed foul play. Ultimately, they assumed a conviction would give them leverage to close the few remaining gaps in their security grid.
    Alan was notified that his father’s lawyer had arrived. He turned down his legal counsel in favor of a public defender. He was tired of his father fixing his life. He had made a mistake and he wanted to live with the consequences. The police informed him that the woman was 17, so it was a ‘statutory situation.’
    Ann received several messages from university feminist groups imploring her to seek the harshest possible penalty. Given the lack of evidence, the detectives informed her that charges would only be filed if she brought them herself. She requested a private conversation with the man. The police agreed, but only if they could record it.
    The president of the university was awoken by a call from the lead detective. He immediately realized that the publicity from this case could irrevocably alter life at State. He ordered the detective to convince the woman to press charges and the man to admit to the crime. By any means necessary.
    Alan felt like his life was slipping away. He still maintained a glimmer of hope, but even that felt naively unrealistic.
    Ann felt like every choice had already been made for her. But as she opened the door, she pushed the deafening condemnation away and chose the whisper of grace instead.
    “Hi Alan.”
    “Hi Ann.”

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