WAR IS PEACE

FREEDOM IS SLAVERY

IGNORANCE IS STRENGTH

TRY OUR APPLE DANISHES

It was a bright cold day in April, and the clocks were striking thirteen. Wait, sorry, never mind. It was a bright cold day in November, and the clocks were striking nine, and I awoke with the dull, miserable headache of a student denied caffeine.

As I walked out of the Southwest Quad and towards Lauinger Library, I could tell something was wrong. The propaganda posters were new:

“This Fall, VOTE WITH THE CORP. DO NOT UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES VOTE AGAINST THE CORP. Drop your pre-marked ballots off at select locations at Vittles, UG, and Hilltoss, and scan this code for more!”

“BIG BARISTA IS WATCHING YOU: DECAF IS CRIMETHINK”

“NONTIPPERS WILL BE EXECUTED”

“WE HAVE ALWAYS BEEN AT WAR WITH CROP CHOP”

“VOTE CORP IN THE NEXT GUSA ELECTION. VOTE CORP IN THE NEXT DC ELECTION. VOTE CORP IN THE NEXT US MIDTERM. VOTE ‘YES’ ON THE CORP’S NEW AUTOCRACY REFERENDUM”

As I scanned my GOCARD, I realized that it had some new information about me – “WINSTON SMITH / OUTER PARTY / NOT AN ACTIVE THREAT”.

I reached Midnight Mug to find a huge screen with a menacing rendition of John DeGioia’s face, and next to him a similar screen with Provost Groves. The chalkboard now had massive murals of proletarian art.

“No menu. We select your drink for you now”, said the girl behind the counter, still dressed in an apron and a hot pink sequined cowboy hat. I nodded blankly as I was handed an iced UG Love.

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a barista clocking out of his shift. I ran out of Midnight, trying to catch up with him.

“Hey man,” I said. “Do you have any idea what the hell is going on?”

“Well, remember those ‘vote with the Corp’ posters at UG and Vittles and stuff?”

“What? No.”

“That’s precisely the problem.”

He continued: “We tried to help you all vote in the midterms. We tried to make sure you were informed about your civil rights, and give you remote voting options, and help you remember to register. We tried to be nice. We tried to be democratic!”

“Wh-”

“Well, everyone ignored our campaign, so we decided that maybe democracy has outlived its usefulness. We felt underappreciated. And this is a lot of fun.”

“I- how did you even do all this?”

“Through monopoly. All of you need caffeine! We supply it. By simply taking away dissidents’ right to buy coffee from the Corp, we’ve obtained an amazing 100% approval rating from the student body!”

“Uh…”

The barista was looking down at me speculatively. More than ever he had the air of a teacher taking pains with a wayward but promising child.

“There is a Party slogan dealing with control of the caffeine supply,” he said. “Repeat it, if you please.”

“Who controls the present controls the coffee; who controls the coffee controls the future,” I repeated obediently. I had never learned that slogan in my life.

“Who controls the coffee controls the future,” said the barista, nodding his head with slow approval.

He left for class, leaving me alone outside Midnight Mug. This was all very alarming. But the pain of caffeine denied began to pulse through my head. I slowly raised the state-assigned UG Love to my lips. Relief – almost instant relief. Through the warped glass I could still see the menacing visage of Provost Groves.

I gazed up at the enormous face. Five semesters it had taken me to learn what kind of smile was hidden beneath the graying mustache. O cruel, needless misunderstanding! Two coffee-scented tears trickled down the sides of my nose. But it was all right, everything was all right, the struggle was finished. I had won the victory over myself. I loved Big Barista.

(Interested in exercising your civil liberties while you still have them? Please vote for real. Like, actually.)