THE DEVON CAMPUS had a different hum on Fridays, one with a higher pitch. Students had a gleam in their eyes and greeted one another with gusto as they walked the campus corridors and courtyards. It didn’t matter what clique you ran with, what gender or race you identified with, or what team you played on; Friday was about the promise of the next two days and nights … the parties, the protests, the games … the hookups. The Devon weekend lay before its people like a vast open field of possibilities. Any and all wonderful things could happen.
It was mid-afternoon at the Progressive Student Alliance. Red and the others were already comfortably high on a particularly pleasant strain of cannabis called Trainwreck. Someone said it was Snoop Dogg’s favorite. Rufus was playing tunes.
They deserved a little relaxation after a busy few weeks camped out in front of Grafton. Passing students had given them raised fists of solidarity or finger snaps of approval, and the PSA even grew its ranks by four members. Rufus, who handled the PSA’s social media accounts, pumped out constant links to the Russell video on Facebook, Twitter, Tumblr, and Snapchat, and the group’s social metrics grew considerably. #DevonShame even trended regionally for a while. Red was particularly pleased that they’d managed to trash Russell’s rating on Rate My Professor. That redneck piece of shit totally deserved it, Red thought.
He smiled as he thought of how they’d deliberately placed themselves in a randomly distributed pattern around Russell’s class to make it appear they didn’t know one another and that the whole thing had been spontaneous. That move was straight out of Red’s dog-eared copy of Rules for Radicals.
“Good couple of weeks, man,” opined Robbie Ochoa.
“True dat,” Red replied.
“The PSA snaps its fingers and shuts that motherfucker down,” said Robbie, giggling.
Snaps its fingers … it had almost been too easy. Not that Russell’s class had been canceled entirely, but the dude looked like he was going down. Gaia came up with the idea for the petition to fire Russell, which she circulated using the website change.org. They had already collected 372 signatures. That was gonna get some media play, for sure.
With all the social tools they had at their disposal, it had become a simple thing to tap into a wellspring of progressive anger that extended well beyond the borders of campus. A retweet from the right person or a video that went viral and a whisper became a thunderous roar, truth to power, impossible to ignore.… They had the world’s biggest megaphone at their disposal. How much more could they accomplish?
“Roof, how many more followers this week?”
Rufus examined his phone. “We are up to twelve hundred, double a week ago.” Everyone snapped their fingers. Amen, brother. “You know, with a little effort, we could really get these numbers up there.”
“You wanna take lead on that, bro?”
“Oh, no, man. No time.” Rufus leaned back after another hit. “Gotta make time to get my DJ on.”
“How’s that going?” Gaia asked. She slung an arm around Red, who stiffened noticeably.
“Awesome. Got another gig tonight. Gonna make some coin.”
It’s always about money, Red thought. Money, money, money. That he had millions locked in a trust occasionally left him feeling conflicted. He told himself he would so give it to the Struggle, if only he were allowed to, but he had no access to the trust’s principal. Instead he was forced to live on the several hundred thousand that the trust threw off every year in interest and dividends, and with that he was expected to cover his tuition, at least when he was enrolled. Those little Eichmanns who controlled his trust just didn’t understand …
“Where’s the party?” Robbie asked.
“Beta house,” Rufus replied. “Bunch of assholes, but should be a smoke show.”
“That is so sexist,” Gaia fumed.
“Whatever.”
Red’s thoughts then shifted gratefully away from grubby pecuniary matters. He’d been having sex with Gaia on and off for the last year, but that was getting old. She was down with the Struggle, sure, but a guy like him couldn’t carry extra weight. Gaia was turning out to be a bummer. It was time for some fresh. He wished she hadn’t put her arm around him.
Henry Schott, a sophomore member, burst through the main door, out of breath. “Guys, Russell’s off the hook.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?” Red said.
“I just ran into Chris Huffman from the Daily. He told me.”
“I can’t believe that fuck didn’t call me. We gave him the story!”
“He said he only just found out.”
“Okay, so what else?”
“He didn’t really know anything else.”
“Fuck.” Red got out his phone and dialed Jaylen Biggs. They needed to plan. “You hear about Russell?”
“Yeah, word’s out.”
“We need to escalate.”
“I don’t know, man. I’m not sure this Russell dude is the best play.”
“He’s white. Isn’t he? And from the South somewhere. Asshole has privilege written all over him.”
“Man, shut the fuck up.”
“What?” said Red, taken aback.
“Seriously, just shut your hippie white ass up. You notta nigga, get it? You a rich cracker, so don’t motherfuckin’ talk to me about privilege.”
Red was momentarily speechless, a rare event. “Hey, asshole. I set the whole thing up.”
“And for that, we black people thank you. But this is our issue. Stay out.” The connection dropped. Red was glad the others couldn’t hear any of that.
“So what now?” Rufus asked.
“Send out some pissed-off tweets,” said Red.
“Got it. That it?”
“I don’t know, man, just let me think.” Trainwreck was starting to make the task problematic, though, so Red leaned back, allowing himself to be swallowed by the enormous couch. He gave himself over to the steady beat of Rufus’s EDM tracks. The words kept repeating … love you, love you. The effect put him in a mild trance. Then, another thought … not wholly crystallized, more like swirling brain dust trying to organize itself, but then forming, coalescing … another deep toke … ahhhh … wait, what?… oh, right, the thought … an idea … music, a bit of timing … the right social channels … yes, it just might work.
“Ah, hey, Roof,” said Red. “Can you get me on the list for that party?”
“I dunno, dude. Those fraternity guys can be dicks.”
“Just get me on that list.” Red smiled, keeping his own counsel for the moment.