Phos
Greetings, dear readers. My name is Hani Sallum, and I am the new Copy Editor for this wonderful mag. In the past I have submitted work from time to time, but I took on the task of Copy Editor mostly out of guilt, plus Jason was giving me dirty looks. Jason's dirty looks have been known to cause hemorrhaging. So, with one of my eyes filled with blood, I heartily volunteered.
But that's not what you want to know about. As Copy Editor I have to make sure everything lines up right and is pleasant to the eye, or else Hoyt will shoot me. That's not really true, but reader satisfaction is at the top of my list, so I endeavor to perform to the best of my ability.
As your Copy Editor I feel you should know a little about me, just to bring the reader and magazine closer, y'know, show that the people behind the scenes are A-okay. After all, you wouldn't want to be reading something that was formatted by some maniac. That would mean Jason and I switch jobs, and I don't want that. He can have all the bureaucracy he wants; just give me \TeX\ macros and I'm happy.
Well, if you're one of those ``question authority'' types, back off. I'm a student, like most of you; I have hopes and dreams and occasional fantasies involving the top of the Green Building and an assault rifle. I work, I play, I search for employment, and I spend much of my free time reliving painful memories from my dark past.
But seriously, I think what this campus needs is something to unify the students. Some message that everyone can share, that will bring everyone together. And, friends, I may have that message. Let me tell you my story...
It happened one afternoon not too long ago; I had been swamped for two weeks straight and had pulled my second allnighter that week (as well as playing Jesus in a church play the night before, which I wholeheartedly recommend if you have any delusions of persecution you want to act out), so I was basically asleep on my feet.
I had just gotten out of my four hour 9 o'clock lab and was wandering back towards EC to slip into a nice comfortable coma when it hit me. Right there along the stretch of Infinite Corridor between Building 2 and Building 6 I began channeling a spirit.
In my weakened and semiconscious state I must have been the prime candidate for spiritual possession, and apparently some netherworldly being cast forever to roam the halls of the institute took advantage of my presence.
It took me a few moments to realize I was talking aloud, and that the words coming from my mouth were not my own. I was breathing very slowly and deeply, speaking as I dragged air into my lungs as well as when I breathed out, producing a ragged, growling voice completely alien to me. As I listened, the words I spoke were:
`` I have so little to give you, for I cannot
give you what I do not have... but I can
give you pain.''
At this point I was sufficiently scared to wake up completely. I quickly ran home and wrote the message down, still reeling from the experience. After relating the incident to several people, they steered me towards the conclusion that I had channeled nothing less than the spirit of the Institute itself.
So, take heart, fellow students, the Institute has spoken, and at the very least we'll all be in a lot of pain together. In the meantime we here at VooDoo will be trying to take the edge off of it. If I can just get away from this guy with the net, that is.
Godspeed and all that.
Phos