PITTSBURGH, Pa. The cannons were readied. The troops were in position. We had the element of surprise. Twelve twentyfive p.m. President Jahanian, standing in Napoleonic fashion behind the frontline that had assembled atop Warner Hall, let his arm drop and gave the order. “Fire!” Four explosions, and four westbound cannonballs fired from Carnegie Mellon’s most archaic weapons, filled the air. Three made contact with the target, while one fell below the skyline, towards the streetscape, to wreak what minimal damage it could. Three shattered windows were visible against the silhouette of the Cathedral of Learning, with smoke billowing up out of the broken top. With Cathy out of commission, Carnegie Mellon was the grandest institution in Pittsburgh, but he didn’t have much time to admire his handiwork. He donned his Napoleonic bowl cap. “Troops, advance!” The chemistry majors tore down Forbes Avenue in pickup trucks, with vials of phosgene that they were ready to shatter once past Schenley Plaza. The physics majors set up their catapults, ready to bombard their western brethren with a deadly combination of textbooks and lab notebooks. The CS majors were sent to plant the virus they’d created on every piece of technology on campus; the biology majors went to sprinkle the virus they’d created onto the plates at every dining hall in the West. The ML majors were sent to figure out the optimal way to annex territory, bit by bit. And the Tepper students were sent in to negotiate a peace once victory was won, with the polisci majors sent in as backup once they failed.
