It’s supposed to be a thinking campus. A campus for ideas.
What do these buildings think about?, I wonder. What is the glass and steel thinking? And these paving stones? These fancy lampposts? And what do they think of us, wandering through?
They’re monitoring us, that’s all I know. They’re listening to our conversation. For keywords and phrases. They’re measuring our body temperature. The rate our hearts beat. Any … agitation we might be feeling.
They’re reading our minds, I reckon. They know that we’re against them. They know that we’re negation – pure negation. That we hate them.
They’re probably spraying things to calm us down. They’re pumping something into the air, to alter our mood. They’re probably changing the lightning, to make us see things differently.
Campus surveillance. This is supersurveillance. They can see into your soul. If you actually have a soul … If they haven’t sucked it out.
They can read our thoughts … Our misinformational thoughts. Our disinformational thoughts.
They could dispatch drones to kill us, if they wanted. Set off personalised smart bombs, or whatever. Launch a little plague designed just for us.
Haven’t we always feared it: a knock on the door? The secret police?
But what’s worse: that there will be no knock at the door. That they have us contained, that’s all – perfectly. They know we won’t do anything. They know we’re not any real threat. They have us contained us. In the uni. In the humanities. In Philosophy – particularly in Philosophy.
We’re no threat. We’re innocuous. We’re accounted for.
Work in Progress 