March 15, 2006
I have been with the Generation Liberation Front (GLF) for three weeks now. It took some time to get acclimated and familiar with one of the guerilla units responsible for many of the anti-UBSP activities. This civil war has gone on for almost two months now and the effects on the school are enormous. Main Street has become a shantytown, filled with blown-out buildings and makeshift villages where the movie theater and a Tops once were. I am camped out with one of the Liberation Front’s elite units on South Campus for the night, my companions a motley crew of explosives experts, spies, snipers, and soldiers who dabble in a little of everything. Their leader, Commander Ahearn, is a mysterious man who hides in the shadows. In the interests of safety, no one tells me his location, but I suspect he is somewhere off campus. Perhaps one can find him on Elmwood Avenue, a safe location because the rest of Western New York seems to be completely ignorant of the fact that there is a war going on. There is a golf course across the street; men in polo shirts reminisce about their college days while putting through.
March 23, 2006
The unit I am attached to is taking me on a distribution mission, distributing Generation on North Campus. It is the first time that I am visiting the occupied campus and my emotions are a mixture of excitement and fear. North Campus imposes on the region surrounding it (which again, does not seem to notice that two campuses are at war), a giant shining fortress with flags fluttering everywhere. We have trouble finding a parking spot and have to park in the former Governors Lot, now called “The Glorious Student Parking Lot D.” I notice that everything on North Campus has been renamed so that it can be used as UBSP propaganda. The Student Union is now called Party Headquarters, and its walls are covered in large posters bearing the face of Supreme Commander John Grela with anti-South Campus propaganda phrases. SA Guards are stationed everywhere, making delivery difficult. In fact, I am told that this process may take up to two weeks. Our goal today was to infiltrate the campus. Lieutenant Scheck, the squad leader who used to deliver the magazines in peacetime hands me a pistol with a world-weary sigh. He warns me that I should be on guard at all times; while there may be many people sympathetic to our cause, there are many who are turncoats willing to ingratiate themselves with Supreme Commander Grela through treachery. He then briefs me on the details of the distribution mission. Our goal is to give the magazine to the LARP resistance and to disperse it along the proper channels on campus. However, we are also checking up on the local resistance and seeing if they need any help. There will be a four-day window during which they will be making contact with the resistance. I plan on taking this time to explore the campus and get a feel for what it is like at what the GLF has dubbed “The Fascist State University at Buffalo.”
March 25, 2006
I have been on North Campus for two days and have seen enough to make me sick. Despite UBSP Spectrum’s constant reports of prosperity, most of this place is a squalid wasteland. The Ellicott Complex resembles some of the worst slums in South America. I spent my first night there, gobbling up amphetamines, too scared to let my guard down for one moment amongst the starving Long Island refugees and the possibility of secret police rumored to be everywhere. Wired and paranoid, I wandered the various buildings, seeing first hand the decrepit conditions of North Campus Life. Tribes of JAPs roam aimlessly, dressed in almost six layers of ratty clothing, once bought for incredibly high amounts at various couture shops in New York City. They beg me for money and food, offering me sexual favors in exchange for Frappacinos.
March 26, 2006
I met up with my unit and proceed with them to the base of the GLF’s North Campus outpost, a small insurgent cell whose numbers are said to be growing as conditions worsen. Their leader, Jacob Drum, is a slight man with an oblong-shaped head, a result of his proximity to a shell blast during the coup. We are all briefed on the mission, something much bigger than what I initially was told. Instead of delivering the magazine, we are to hijack a shuttle bus and drive it into the advanced weaponry lab at the Center for Tomorrow. Everyone receives their assignment; I am to blend in the crowd during the whole operation. This whole thing is incredibly invigorating. During the night, I make love to one of the female explosive experts within my unit. She was a fine arts student before the coup. Her boyfriend was one of the founders of the Generation Liberation Front. After he was captured, they tortured him for information but he would not budge. She tells me she saw him one more time, his body impaled on a stake in front of the Alfiero Center.
March 27, 2006
The mission was a disaster! Somebody tipped off UBSP central command and there were spike strips surrounding the lab. The shuttle crashed into a guard rail, killing several GLF members—all but one, who it turns out was a Burton-friendly mole the entire time. Armed guards are searching all over the place for me, hoping to stop me before the truth gets out. I hide in the Commons; because it is independently owned, the war has not touched this place at all. I stop for some Korean food while I figure out my next move. Looking around, my way out comes to me.
March 30, 2006
Why didn’t I (or anyone for that matter) think of this earlier? Since this seemed to only be taking place on campus, all I had to do was leave campus. I quickly made for my car and drove away to safety, i.e. my parent’s house. Once there, my mom made me dinner and I went to play some Playstation. A good night’s sleep later, it was as if the whole thing never happened. The only consequence of this ordeal was me filling out an application to attend Stony Brook in the fall.
