The campus is a world – completely self contained. You can’t see anything beyond it. It’s a whole horizon.
This campus … You could live out your life here. All your needs, catered for. Material, intellectual … Spiritual needs, God know. The whole hierarchy of needs. Everything but … Everything except … what?
The opposite of all this. The need to go in the opposite direction to all this. The need to escape all this. The need to see the destruction of all this. An apocalyptic need: is that it?
Only an auto-da-fe of the Organisational Management campus will do. A setting fire to the entire Organisational Management world. Only that could make sense of it.
It’s a question of Organisational Management destruction. Of Organisational Management being offered up to the sky. Of some magnificent potlatch. A destruction as great as the campus. The unmanageable – as explosion. As destruction. As the end – of this
But all this steel and glass won’t burn. These pavement tiles. Nothing burns here. Which is entirely on purpose.
One day all these paving stones will swell upwards. Break apart. And the earth will reveal itself. There it will be: an open wound: the earth.
Rending – just that. Tearing. The revenge of the Earth, welling up beneath the campus. All the buildings, heaving up. All the glass and steel. The Earth, rising up to meet the sky. And that will be the most beautiful day of all.
We need terrorists. Where are the terrorists when we need them? We need someone to blow up this campus.
God, you’d have thought a campus like this would just conjure up terrorists. Through some weird dialectics. You’d have thought it’d just call them into existence, through its sheer hubris.
Work in Progress 