To the Editor:
Ten towers, soaring twice as tall and four times as deep as Kline Biology Tower, sparkle. Their polished carbon fiber and tempered glass suits bulge with the weight of 10,000 students. Up on top, among the Babylonian gardens, windmills pulse through the air, streaming electricity to the book-bound drones below, each consuming at a rate of 100,000 watts.
Ten years from yesterday, the Yale of tomorrow beckons. Against the flushed horizon of John Davenport’s utopian city, the Elis have once again proven their willingness to experiment and, against all odds and the rest of the Ivy League, confirmed their school’s supremacy in residential growth!
Slowly but surely, central campus has lost its prominence on campus, a victim of the bifurcation between the dual foci of development: the science hubs of Yale West, out in greater Stamford, and The Hill. As it has become increasingly obvious that the liberal arts problematize The Creative Economy, and as applicants majoring in the sciences have been prioritized, the English, History, Humanities and Literature departments are replaced by a Harold Bloom seminar. Those refused admission, all 9,900, are taking classes in green architecture.
East Rock, that pitiful domain of the fabricated white liberal nostalgia for triple-deckers in the inner city, was long ago raised, as it stood in the way of our university’s expansion. In its place is a 15-lane super-speed transoceanic motorway — express to P.K.U. Still smelling with that new-car sheen, the Yale East campus is plopped on top. Each room is connected to the overcrowded virtual lecture halls by moving walkways and multi-directional elevators that ply through the sky at lightning speed, save for during peak hours, when there’s overwhelming congestion.
Faculty, provided complementary housing in Tower 4b for overnight stays away from their New York hole-in-the-walls, simulcast live next door.
In fact, ever since Billy “Wrecking-Ball” Sledge replaced Dick Levin at the helm of this heaving ship, there’s been little cease-fire in the construction. Cranes on top of each building slide up and down from dusk to dawn to dusk, ensuring that next year’s class is even bigger than the last: no high schooler will be left behind.
There’s even a new auditorium just for commencement. At the end of the ceremony, the newly minted graduates, now numbering in the tens of thousands, fling themselves forward and jump onto one of the slides installed on the South façade, ready to face an increasingly Yale-populated world.
The writer is a senior in Saybrook College.