Igor O'Toole put his scrapbook aside, then stood up and stretched.
Back at his work bench, preserving, repairing and reconstructing
the tomes of human accomplishments, mistakes and history,
he ruminated on how the more things change, the more they
remain the same.
The structure of all but the most recently birthed colleges
and universities is rigid, he observed to the roll of
transparent tape he was using to repair still another torn page.
Their medieval trappings, so obvious at historic functions,
may appear invisible in other facets of existence. None the less,
these trappings still exist.
Patterned much like the society of monks, higher educational
administrations still follow a monolithic, generally white
male-dominated path even though modern times have seen the
enrollment of women students, the hiring of women faculty and
even women in central administrative posts. But it's a facade.
The real discipline, established centuries ago, is maintained
and furiously guarded.
For a while, the newer laws of the seventies relating to affirmative
action suggested that there would be a break in the male bastion.
Time proved, however, that sex discrimination and sexual harassment laws
were never well enforced and were being slowly destroyed by the Supreme Court.
Continuing his mentation, Igor allowed as how, like the monastery,
the university structure is maintained because it is supported throughout
the governmental system of a state or country.
Now comes the turn of ethnicity as students of all races,
religions and creeds are storming the ancient fortifications.
Thus far, they have not even cracked the surface. What appears
to be maneuvers that should embarrass a university administration
only serve to entrench it even more.
At Belmont, the student's attempts to force political
correctness--PC, on the administration culminated in
a takeover of their offices. Nothing new here.
This has happened at many universities all over the country.
The result of the takeover, far from enlightening the powers that be,
only delighted the Belmont administration.
As student protests do every time, he reflected, they take
the public's attention away from the stench of the secret
university policies and procedures and place it on the antics
of the students. Most always, student protests involved property
destruction. As a result, public opinion turns against student
innovators or bell ringers. The cause of their protest--entrenched,
polluted power--is again shrouded by the ignorance that gave it birth
in the middle ages.
Igor yawned and scratched his chin. Most of the collected
intelligence and experiences of the world is in this library,
he reminded himself, but few avail themselves of it. Upstairs now,
you don't even have to search through books for whatever you're
looking for, you just punch up a computer and it collects
everything ever written on any subject you can think of.
But with all these wonderful strides in disseminating information,
he marveled, the people running this place act just like they always have.
Tradition covers a multitude of sins and power corrupts now just as it used to.
Too bad most young people don't realize how much their protests
just solidify the status quo, or rather, most of them don't.
Igor smiled to himself as he glanced at the clock.
Diana would be back by now. Time to give her a call.
He sat down at his desk and dialed the phone.
"Thought I'd find you in. I've just been thinking about
our little project and taking a lot of comfort from it."
He listened briefly, then said, "Just thought it was too bad
that most young folks waste their efforts so. Not like those
two young women upstairs. They are exceptions."
Listening again, he answered, "Yes, they are good friends
and just as upset as me over the SmurFF fiasco. Well, we have
begun something that will have an effect for some time to come.". . .
"Me? I'm tickled pink to have had a part in an endeavor which,
in the Baconian sense, allows, `. . .a kind of wild justice' to prevail. . .
"Well, yes, I am still angry at the way Dan Field acted when
the students came to him on your behalf, Diana. This guy claimed
to be so strong for human rights, claimed to represent the blacks
and other down-trodden and he crapped out. No doubt about it,
he had the position and the clout to have stopped this thing in
its tracks. He was the administrations's visible token black.
"And that brother in the EEOC. Surely, as head honcho, he should
have checked the facts before blindly bowing to political pressure. . .
"Well yes, thank you. I, Igor have made up for both of those Oreos.
I have made Afro-Americanism stand for something positive at Belmont."
Smiling now, he reviewed with her the culmination of the combined
efforts of those two women upstairs, Diana and himself.
Pooling their knowledge of computers, they had formulated
and introduced a harmless virus into the library computer
which had already spread throughout this library and beyond.
And it would continue to spread. The contents of his scrapbook,
along with all the originals of the documents Diana could produce,
had been incorporated into the viral computer program so that
whenever anyone queried information on any relevant topic,
the SmurFF Affair at Belmont would be targeted. The true facts
of the good ol' boy conspiracy against Diana Trenchant could
no longer be hidden by the administration.
Any interested person would be able to access all of the
letters and documents relating to it. The entire transcript,
attorney briefs, Attorney General's LOD and all the shady
meetings and despicable planning engaged in by the power
structure of Belmont University would be instantly available in
menu form on their computer screen. The virus would see to that
and good old human curiosity would do the rest.
Still smiling, Igor said, "So long and take care. I'll talk to you tomorrow."
Picking up his jacket, he turned off the lights.
Another day--well, it would seem good to get home.
Upstairs, as he passed between the desks of Roz and Andrea, the women
who had made such fantastic use of the contents of his scrapbook, he paused.
Holding up both arms, palms flat out, he said, "Good night, my friends.
Have a nice evening. . .and thank you."
Slapping his palms in unison, with grins broad enough to span
the universe, they returned the greeting and the emotion.