As I scroll down, I see. It doesn't look pretty, but I laugh and think it is genius. It is beautiful. I go further.
"Henry Samueli School of Engineering and Applied Science GOTHIC Written 4/13/18 You're standing in Boelter Hall, waiting for the the elevator. It seems like you're always waiting for the elevator. You consider taking the stairs, but you promised yourself never again after Last Time. Last Time, you decided to take the stairs to Boelter Alley at night after a long study session in the research library. You thought you would be alright, but the automatic lights were out in the stairwell. The ugly green floors that lay on the backs of tortured Civil E's twisted around your feet as the stairs continued. You went down, down, down, but the stairs went on and shadows were closing in, whispering about how they wanted to find the Young's Modulus of your bones and pick apart the fluid mechanics of your veins. The screams of the Civil E's became unbearable. In fear, you got out on the closest floor and found yourself at SEASCafe. The Aero E's were arguing about the rocket they were building. They were always building a rocket. You turned to them for solace, but their eyes were dark and soulless as galvanized steel. They asked you if you have any rocket fuel. A kind Chem E saved you, shoving you back into Boelter into the middle of a strange contraption: the Mech E's Rube Goldberg Machine. It was still in construction. The weird thing was that no one quite remembered what the machine was for anymore. You had to fend of a Bio E who was convinced you would be an invaluable cog in the machine. He shoved you into the courtyard, where you almost ended up in a UCLA Racing oven. The sight of carbon fiber has made you sick ever since. So you wait for the elevator. Your friend waves hello as they walk past you. "I'm gonna go to the Student Math Center." You're confused. She has class at the same time as you. But what is time? You shake off that thought because you need to concentrate on your upcoming midterm. You don't realize until later that you haven't seen or heard from your friend after they went to the Student Math Center. What class had she needed help in, again? Oh, that's right. Math 32B. You sighed with relief, glad in the knowledge that you had passed that class. Then you remember: the class you two were taking together was 32B. You were always in 32B. But you a senior, aren't you? Something is very wrong here. Your eyes widen, and with a yell, you push past a pack of CS and CS & E students, their eyes glazed with 0s and 1s, and start running through the halls to get to the Math Sciences Building. You cross the archway between Boelter and MS and stop suddenly. The Tiled Eye blinks slowly at you.... but wait, what floor were you on? You slowly turn around to see what the Eye is looking at. The pack of CS students have caught up with you. They have chosen you as sacrifice so that they can ace their next project. You sprint past the photos of old mathematicians, who grin wickedly at your attempt to escape. A TA tries to stop you and ask exactly what part of the problem was confusing you, never mind that it was all of it. You run past a professor giving office hours a group of faceless students on Byrd scooters. They join the CS students. There's no way you can make it. They were closing in. You had no choice. You had to get to the OASA. You circled back to Boelter and crossed the threshold, breathing raggedly. A MatSci 104 textbook trips you, but even as you fall and accept your inevitable death, you remember the fallen major. MatSci's were so few... until they were naught. You look back in terror. The hallway is completely empty. The only light left is a sickly green glow. "Neat, huh?" your friend asks from ahead. You whip your head back to watch him. She's an EE. You can tell by the circuit board she holds in her hands. Why didn't you know her major before? "What are you doing?" you gasp. She smirks. "Don't worry. It's not going to be on the midterm. But it will be on the final." She flips a switch on the board, and you black out. You wake up in the Boelter Penthouse stripped of your graphing calculator and your lab notebook. You're standing in Boelter Hall, waiting for the elevator. It seems like you're always waiting for the elevator. -Lily Demangos"
