The Ghost Apple Read Online Free PDF Page B

was itself. Did Professor Reynolds agree? He did, and yet Professor Carlyle worried that this arrangement, too, was problematic. Surely it would create a situation in which conflict would escalate indefinitely, perhaps terminating in violence, since each committee would be able to challenge the essential legitimacy of the other. Professor Beckford took issue with this “doomsday scenario,” explaining that we would be sure to establish clear routes of appeal in the event that either committee should object to the suggestions of the other.
    A vote was taken and the motion passed by an easy margin, with only Professor Beckford’s enemies dissenting. Professor Carlyle, who was now busy pouring Gatorade powder into the mouth of a canned energy drink, was the only abstention.
    Meanwhile, the president had grown impatient, and she moved that we skip over any remaining committee business, which was, in any case, detailed in a sequence of reports that the faculty had received by e-mail. A second was found, there was no discussion, a vote was taken, and the motion passed.
    It was now time for the Athletic Association’s report. Glenn Forrest, assistant to the deputy director of the Athletic Association, rose and was greeted with enthusiastic applause and cheers of “Go Tyrants!” Mr. Forrest thanked everyone for coming, evidently under the impression that he himself had called the meeting, and said that we had an exciting year ahead of us. He expressed his conviction—a conviction he shared with John Bacon, director of the Athletic Association, who sent his greetings and regretted that a prior engagement had prevented him from being here today—that the football team was poised to have a breakout season.
    Attempting, as always, to curry favor with the wealthy and autonomous Athletic Association, the faculty reacted to this news with more applause and additional cheers of “Go Tyrants!” But Mr. Forrest was not finished. In fact, he had considerably more to say. He spoke and gestured for perhaps ten minutes, no doubt encouraged by the fervent and continuous cheering of the faculty, although the secretary cannot have been alone in tuning him out and gazing instead at the restful scene out on the quad, where the Ultimate Frisbee game was winding to a close but where there were still plenty of students lounging in the sweet grass or moving about in small, lazy groups.
    At last Mr. Forrest paused for a drink of water and apologized: He was losing his voice. Luckily, he had only one item left on his agenda. He would now read a statement suggested by remarks said to have been made by Coach Kingman.
    “Dear professors: Thanks for all your hard work!”
    Were there any questions? There were not. Mr. Forrest thanked everyone and said that the Athletic Association would be “in touch.” With that, he took his leave.
    When he was gone, the president expressed her hope that we had been appropriately enthusiastic in our applause and in our cheers of “Go Tyrants!” She could appreciate that the effort of shamming enthusiasm probably left us feeling the “world exhaustion of a prostitute,” but, as we knew, she had no direct authority over the disposition of Athletic Association funds. Those funds would continue to “trickle down” only as long as the Athletic Association felt that we admired what they did. At least we would no longer have to worry about the football players themselves: As of this fall, they were “academic exempt.”
    She then asked if there were any questions or announcements. In fact, she had one of her own. She had received a text message from Dean Brees, which she would read aloud:
    “Dining halls must improve offerings. Very important! Greetings all.”
    Francis Amundsen, professor of English, observed that this was a very articulate text message, and he wondered why young people could not follow the dean’s example. Professor Brokovitch suggested that maybe it was because they were undernourished.
    Once