Also unmistakable was that one of the stars of the video was Lulu Harris. Many recognized Red Wheeler as the other participant.
Of little note to all but a few in attendance was the time stamp, clearly visible at the bottom of the screen. December 20, 3:57 a.m. The night Eph had allegedly attacked Lulu Harris. But Eph noticed. “Holy shit,” he said to no one. Lulu’s face showed no sign of bruising.
Elsewhere, reactions differed.
“Crap,” said Martika from her office window. She, too, was aware of the significance of the time stamp.
“Oh, shit,” said Red from one building over, before deciding it was time to slip away.
“Fuck me,” said Milton Strauss, for perhaps the first time in his life.
The Mound, who was mere feet from Lulu, looked down at her and said, “You. Look.” He pointed to the screen.
Breaking weeks of precedent, Lulu stood, and she saw. There she was, riding the hairy man-boy like a cowgirl at a rodeo. Didn’t see that coming, she thought. She was inclined to be upset before remembering that sex tapes had launched any number of personal brands. Paris Hilton, Kim Kardashian, Pamela Anderson … This might play, although how would it sync with being a feminist hero? That would require some thought, which was difficult at the moment considering everyone around her was losing their mind.
* * *
Up on the stage, a furious Camille Thornton turned on Milton Strauss. “Do something!” she screamed. But Milton was frozen with indecision. This scenario wasn’t in the college president’s handbook. Taking matters into her own hands, Camille ran backstage to find that boy, the one who was playing music between sets. “You!” she cried, grabbing Rufus by the collar. “Where is that coming from?”
“What?” Rufus was confused. He was busy making himself a sandwich at Killa C’s buffet spread and was oblivious of events outside. But wait, was that sex he was hearing?
“The video, you little shit. You tell me where it’s coming from right now or I’ll have Milton throw your ass out of school!”
“Uh, it’s a USB stick, plugged into the console,” he said, still confused. Some guy from Beta had slipped him five hundred bucks and a promise of more gigs next year to play it. Said it was just a gag on a rival fraternity. Rufus then remembered there wouldn’t be any fraternities next year, but, hey, five hundred bucks was five hundred bucks.
Camille ran out to the console and found the USB stick. She yanked it out, but by then over three thousand people had seen Lulu Harris grinding away on Red Wheeler. The crowd booed when the screen went blank. They wanted more. The scene had not quite concluded, biblically speaking.
* * *
Down by the float, the Womyn’s Collective seethed as one. Was that prick Red Wheeler behind this? They were momentarily unsure where to direct their fury. Not toward Lulu. Who cared if she had some recreational sex? It only demonstrated her agency. How dare they try to slut-shame her. On the other hand, this could be the handiwork of the Betas, and those pricks were right in front of them.
Exactly what to do about it was decided for them when Digger stepped up. “Hey, Lulu, we at Beta Psi just want you to know … that was totally hot.”
As the rain turned into a torrent, Yolanda pointed a fleshy finger at the Betas and screamed, “Bastards!”
That was pretty much when all hell broke loose.
The Crawlers surged around Lulu, shaking the float and tearing at the #Dickpeace signs. The Betas tried shoving them away but were heavily outnumbered. To the side, a fistfight broke out between two onlookers, and others joined in. Still more bodies flowed out of Bingham toward the mêlée, including the Fellinghams contingent. Seizing the moment, the bagpiper resumed his duties while Alexander Hargrove swung his scepter from side to side, clearing a path. The media people buzzed around the periphery like flies, barely containing their spasms of joy, all scrambling to get the best shots.
The Crawlers succeeded in denuding the sides of the float and began climbing up onto it, hungry for more. The Betas knew it wasn’t a great idea to exchange blows with women, so they settled for hurling insults and fat jokes. This further enraged Yolanda and Pythia, who were now wet and whirling blurs of female fury. They set their sights on bringing down the phallus. As they worked to untie the support cables, the rain caused streams of beige and violet to run down its sides, lending it a surreal artistry.
“Done!” shouted Yolanda from her corner, hopping off to safety. Pythia and the others untied their cables, too, and yet the phallus stood, undeterred, mocking. The Crawlers mounted the float again and began pushing it back and forth. Little held it in place other than papier-mâché and some thin wood slats. After a few shoves, audible cracks could be heard in the support structure.
* * *
The great phallus was toppling. Eph realized with a start that it was about to come crashing down right on top of Lulu Harris, who hadn’t moved since she got up to watch herself in the porno. Without another thought, Eph dashed forward and shoved her out of harm’s way, although not quite fast enough to avoid the crashing structure himself. It caught him squarely on the side of the head. Adrenaline fueled, he felt nothing.
Chaos surrounded them with rain falling in thick sheets. The diminished visibility provided an anonymity that emboldened some to even greater violence. A casual observer, dropped from the sky, would have had trouble saying who was fighting whom or why. With a bloodlust, the Crawlers destroyed every last remnant of the float. Then there came a pop pop pop as people hurled rocks through overlooking windows, perhaps just because they could. Inexplicably, the bagpiper played on. Sir Alexander was shouting something about the queen.
Eph put an arm protectively around Lulu. Looking for a way out, he saw none. They were in a narrow stretch of Mathers, about forty feet wide with residential houses on either side. Toward Bingham a wall of people came in their direction, eager to be closer to the action. In the other direction, Mathers was clogged with the float and flailing bodies still randomly destroying things. There were just too many people. They were trapped.
“Eph, over here!”
It was Toes. He’d abandoned his recumbent bike and stood in a nearby gated entryway that led into Draper House. Normally, house entries required key cards, but as luck would have it, Toes had one.
“C’mon!” shouted Eph. He grabbed Lulu’s hand and they started to run, but Lulu was still attached to her ball and chain. Eph scooped it up and they scrambled awkwardly for the entryway.
Once through the gate, Toes slammed it shut. No need to give the hungry mob another place to pillage. They were in a short stone tunnel that led to the Draper courtyard. They caught their breath and wiped water out of their eyes.
“I’m a Draper Fellow,” said Toes, by way of explanation, holding up his key card.
“Are you all right?” Eph asked Lulu.
“I’m fine, thank you.” She stared blankly.
“That sure went Lord of the Flies in a hurry,” said Toes.
“You know, maybe you could take that damn thing off at this point.” Eph pointed to the ball and chain. Lulu examined her Good Samaritan for the first time. The falling phallus had relieved Eph of his hat and glasses.
“It’s you!”
“If by you, you mean your former professor whom you falsely accused of sexual assault and whose life you are intent on ruining, then, yes, it’s me.”
“Hey, Eph, your head is bleeding,” Toes said.
Eph was still focused on Lulu, who was removing the pin from the bracket around her ankle. “I need to ask … Why?”
“You should know I’m sorry. They were putting so much pressure on me to give someone up, and I was still mad at you, so your name, well, it just kind of popped out. They seemed excited and one thing just led to another.”
“Do you understand what you have done to me?”
She looked at Eph quizzically. “Even after I set them straight?”
“Wait … what?”
“Eph, we really should let someo
ne look at that,” Toes said.
If Eph knew Toes was there, it wasn’t clear. “What the hell do you mean you set them straight?”
“I told them you didn’t do anything.”
“When was this?”
“I don’t know. A few weeks ago? At the hearing with that dreadful woman, Martika something something. Why?”
“A few weeks ago.” Eph broke out in laughter, which both Toes and Lulu found confusing, especially since blood was now streaming down the side of his face.
“Eph, I’m not trying to be a pain,” said Toes, “but I really think we need to get you to an emergency room.”
Eph turned to look at him and did his best to smile. “You know”—Eph had to think for a moment what Toes’s real name was—“Barrett, you’re really not such a bad guy.”
Then everything went black.
* * *
Up on the stage, Killa C Note surveyed the chaos as wet equipment sparked and popped around him. He stood next to Milton, who remained frozen, mouth agape. “This be one fucked-up place you got here, Milt.”
The Following September
Devon Daily
September 5
Spring Fling Fallout
Last year’s Spring Fling, which ended in a violent debacle now referred to by many as the Devon Gender Riot, has resulted in a number of developments. Spring exams were canceled and the school year came to an abrupt end, so precise details were slow to emerge from the confusion. Ensuing investigations over summer break have lent considerable clarity.
Violence erupted during a break in a musical performance by rap artist Killa C Note. Members of two university groups, the Beta Psi fraternity and the Fellingham Club, sought to block an ongoing peaceful protest known as the Crawl. There were a number of injuries, and several dozen students were taken for treatment at Havenport General Hospital. There was also over $1 million in damage to Draper and Hunter Houses.
The Crawl, a daily personal protest against gender violence by a first-year student named Lulu Harris, had gained thousands of followers and significant national attention. Violence was triggered when a sexually explicit video appeared on the Fling’s big screen depicting Harris and Aldrich Wheeler, a well-known campus activist, known to most as Red. Exacerbating the problem, members of Devon’s security staff had staged a walkout moments before in a protest over a song by Killa C Note that they perceived to be anti-police. (Contacted in Los Angeles by this paper, a spokesperson for Killa C Note said he apologizes if anyone was upset with his performance, but he denies any responsibility for the ensuing violence. “Killa is a messenger of peace,” said the spokesperson.)
The focus of the conflict was a parade-style float depicting a twenty-foot phallus, brought by Beta Psi members. Many students and other onlookers found the imagery highly offensive, particularly as it contrasted with the Crawl’s message of female victimhood.
A student DJ unwittingly played the video of Harris and Wheeler, saying he was unaware of the content. The Committee on Student Violence and Gender Abuse, hastily formed in the days following the Fling, determined that a Beta Psi member named Finlay Belcher was the source of the video. Belcher has been expelled from Devon.
In a dramatic turn of events, Milton Strauss, Devon’s president, resigned from his position in June. Devon’s Board of Governors, led by Stillman Weathers, expressed dismay at Strauss’s handling of events, particularly concerning the amount of alcohol consumed by Fling participants, most of whom were underage. Last week, Weathers appointed Dean Arjun Choudhary as interim president while a search committee looks for a permanent replacement.
In other developments:
—Fraternities will no longer be recognized by Devon. Any students found to be a member will not be eligible for leadership positions and will not receive university recommendations for postgraduate scholarships such as the Rhodes.
—Seven members of Beta Psi, including former chapter president Theodore “Tug” Fowler, have been suspended for one year. Reached at his home by the Daily, Fowler said, “Whatever.”
—The university will have to make do without Foster Jennison’s $250 million gift to fund construction of the new houses. Publicly upset with developments, he has withdrawn his support. The administration stated that while they are disappointed, the hole in the construction budget was filled by the endowment’s finishing the June fiscal year up 8 percent instead of the expected 7 percent. The endowment was aided by a strong recent rally in hedge funds.
—Lulu Harris has withdrawn permanently from Devon. The Crawl came to its violent end after the dramatic revelation that Harris was the long-estranged daughter of film star Camille Thornton. Despite the prurient content of the video, Harris has been embraced in feminist circles, with supporters dismissing the graphic video as “slut shaming.” She recently auctioned off the ball and chain used in her protest for $75,000 on eBay, donating the proceeds to Code Pink.
—In a bizarre twist, the video that triggered violence exonerated Professor Ephraim Russell of assault charges on Harris. Russell was thought to be at the heart of Harris’s protest and was brought up by the university on Title IX charges. The Daily has learned the time stamp on the video proved the assault to be impossible. Devon’s Title IX Committee subsequently cleared Russell of assault charges but found him guilty of promoting alcohol consumption by an underage student. He is on a one-year leave of absence. Who might have actually assaulted Harris, or whether she was assaulted at all, remains unclear.
—Dean of Diversity and Inclusion Martika Malik-Adams, who ran Professor Russell’s Title IX investigation, also resigned after questions were raised regarding her handling of the case. She now runs diversity initiatives for the entire University of California system, reportedly for a salary of $850,000 a year.
—Aldrich Wheeler is not currently enrolled at Devon and his whereabouts are unknown.
Moral Turpitude
“YOU NEVER BOTHERED to read the terms of the trust, did you?”
Red Wheeler sat there in his grandfather’s office, glum faced and slumped in his chair, tangled dreadlocks obscuring much of his face. He didn’t answer. It was his trip to the woodshed and he just wanted to get it over with.
“No, of course you didn’t. That would have involved some sort of actual work. Allow me to bring you some clarity.” His grandfather put on his reading glasses and flipped through the pages of the trust. “Part Two, Section Three: Payments from the trust to a beneficiary may be suspended temporarily or permanently for reasons of moral turpitude.”
Moral turpitude? That didn’t sound good.
His grandfather flipped a few more pages. “Section Four: Moral turpitude is defined as committing an act or acts in violation of generally accepted standards of moral conduct.” He lowered his glasses and glared at Red. “The trustees are friends of mine and they have looked the other way on your behavior for many years. But guess what? They don’t think that starring in a pornographic video that then sparked a riot is a generally accepted standard of moral conduct.”
“I never gave consent for that to be filmed!”
“You should just sit there and shut up. At market close yesterday, your trust was valued at thirty-eight-point-two million dollars. You and your brother are the sole beneficiaries and receive dividends and interest. These payments, at least to you, are being officially suspended and placed into abeyance for a period of three years.”
Red slumped even further. “What the hell does that mean?”
“It means, as far as you’re concerned, that the trust is frozen until you meet certain conditions. Once those conditions are met, you will once again be eligible as a beneficiary. I checked your personal accounts and I noticed you’ve been spending everything you’ve been getting so, son, it means you are flat broke.”
“That’s not fair!”
“Really. That’s an interesting viewpoint. I’m curious what you did to earn any of that money.” His grandfather sat there and waited for an answer.
&
nbsp; Damn him, using his money like a weapon, thought Red. Typical capitalist. I should just tell him what he can do with his money.
“Nothing? Was that what you were going to say? Because I happened to work damn hard for it.”
Red looked up resentfully at the family patriarch. The old man was framed by the Manhattan skyline behind him. Surely this is a bluff.
“You know, Red, you’ve spent much of your life in a childish Marxist fantasyland, railing against the very system that made everything around you possible. The trust, your education, the iPhone in your pocket, the very clothes you’re wearing … where do you think it all comes from? Maybe you think there are magic iPhone trees? Or maybe it comes from a workers’ paradise like Cuba? Where do you think the money came from to build your beloved Devon? From community organizers?
“I tried to give you every advantage, the best education, every resource at your disposal, and yet our family embarrasses you so much you still use your mother’s name. This is my fault. It was a mistake to give you so much. I see that now.”
“I do important work!” Red had to make a stand.
“You play at campus radical while living off money you didn’t earn. You’re free to continue doing so, but not with my money.”
“I’m not leaving Devon. I still need a few more credits plus I’m over twenty-one! It’s not your call.”
“Is that so? How do you plan to meet the seventy-five-thousand-dollar tuition?”
Red was silent, looking out the window at all the nearby office towers, filled with their work slaves. He saw no hope there. “What are these conditions?”
“I’m glad you asked. I’m going to do you an enormous favor, although you will not see it that way. My company owns a significant stake in a company called Youngstown Steel in Ohio. I have arranged for you to start Monday on the factory floor.”
“No fucking way.”
“I haven’t finished, and I will thank you not to use that language in my place of work. You will work there for no fewer than three years. Should you do this and get satisfactory reviews from the floor manager, you will once again be the trust’s beneficiary. Should you not meet these conditions, the beneficiary shall be changed to the United Negro College Fund. Frankly, I like their odds.”
Campusland: A Novel Page 31