Brian Schmidt's face distorted like Frankenstein


Graphic: Jonathan Tjandra

It was a dreary night of July that I beheld the accomplishment of my toils. With an anxiety that almost compared to that of exam week, I collected the instruments of strife around me, that I might infuse a spark of being into the lifeless professor that lay at my feet. It was already one in the morning; TurnItIn was down and I was out of Red Bull when, by the glimmer of my laptop screen, I saw the dull blue eye of the creature open. It breathed hard, and a convulsive motion agitated its limbs.

How can I describe my emotions at this catastrophe? “Oh, big mood,” I exclaimed, gazing upon the wretch. His memes were spicy, and I had selected his shitposts to be beautiful. Beautiful! – Great God! His pale skin scarcely covered the magnificent brain I had crafted, full of innovation and promise. The creature sat up and spoke:

“Hark!” He cried. “My name is Frankenschmidt, and I am here with a bold new vision for this university!”

“Excuse me, demoniacal creature, but is it not I that am Frankenschmidt?” I posited. He cast me down.

“We don’t have time for semantics,” he declared. I cowered beneath his radiance and conceded to his almighty decree. With the wave of a hand he obliterated Union Court, and so it was that construction would reign for many a long semester.

I passed the night wretchedly. Frankenschmidt spoke of his vlog as the Heavens opened and flooded the town, obliterating the records of my miserable work. I thought to make complaint on this injustice, as it was only through the destruction of Union Court that the floodwaters had been able to rise to my lodging, but before I could finish my protest the creature had vanished, galloping into the night towards the vineyards beyond.

“Begone, Brian!” I cursed to his retreating back. “Perish!”

Oh! How anguished was I, cruel creator, to have brought this presence into the world of man! I gazed into the night and ruminated on my damned actions. I had worked hard for two nights, for the sole purpose of passing this course. For this I had deprived myself of rest and Netflix, even foregoing the festivities at Mooseheads so that I may accrue at least a credit. But all had been for nought. I had let loose on the campus a fiend that did not rest until it was satisfied. To what end would that be? When would the beast be sated?

Morning, dismal and foggy, at length dawned. I made my way to the Pop-Up Village, avoiding the curious eyes of my fellows, and wandered in search of decently priced coffee. Having found none, I sat beneath a gum tree and observed the comings and goings of undergrads, their constitutions alight with promise. Everywhere on campus I saw bliss, from which I alone was irrevocably excluded.

I dictated a post on my misfortune to my mobile device, and, lo, did I receive angry reacts. By afternoon the news of my creature had spread, and henceforth I would lose the respect of my peers, five percent every working day. Hear my tale, kind stranger, and take heed: I was once benevolent and good; academia made me a fiend. Release me from HECS, and I shall again be virtuous.

We acknowledge the Ngunnawal and Ngambri people, who are the Traditional Custodians of the land on which Woroni, Woroni Radio and Woroni TV are created, edited, published, printed and distributed. We pay our respects to Elders past and present. We acknowledge that the name Woroni was taken from the Wadi Wadi Nation without permission, and we are striving to do better for future reconciliation.