It was quite easy to sneak into the university. If what you would call “walking in like you mean it” sneaking. The main entrance of U.Y was consistent with what he saw last night: a sprawling lawn in front of a red-brick archway that fit into a red-brick wall. The lawn, which was named “Fictus Green” sparkled emerald as the sun glistened off the mildew that had built up from the overnight rain.

Walker scraped his arm with his fingernails to relieve the bug itches. Due to the humidity, the mosquitos clung to him like a fat kid eating cake. He vowed to not sleep outside again; the park made him muddy, and sweaty and gave the appearance of homelessness.

Walker quickly slipped by most of the students who occupied the green: the seniors throwing around a football, the helicopter-parented daughters already studying for their classes, and the club leaders who had set up tables and were giving away stickers that said Dig knowledge? Join the Paleontology Club! and ROBOTICS: A Friend You Can Make.

However, one man, in particular, was garnering a more controversial audience. The man, with straw-blond hair just barely thinning at the temples, was garbed in a stretched grey shirt. It was so baggy, and he was so skinny, that it acted more like a short dress than a shirt at all.

“You have all sinned. You reject God with your aliens, pre-marital sex, and masturbation.” He swung his microphone into the air triumphantly, “God has forsaken you, and in turn, he has forsaken all of us!” He shouted; however, his voice was hoarse and scratched at the ears of the bystanders.

“What a wacko,” someone murmured as they walked by, and Walker was inclined to believe them. By the preacher’s standards, Walker had partaken in the rejection of God countless times. As the man resumed his ranting Walker began to walk away when something peaked his attention.

“The unholy have permeated into our society. I’ve seen the government experiment on animals,” He paused to point at the people who ignored him, “And on you! Goats with countless horns and cloven hooves. Vines that strangle doves. Rodents with rows and rows of teeth.”

Before the last couple of weeks, Walker would’ve dismissed the screeching man as ramblings. Still, he’d experienced two animal mutants firsthand already, why couldn’t there be more? Furthermore, one of the few things his father taught him was that all things have a kernel of truth.

“And it is because you are all sinners. You are the same as a thief. The same as a rapist. A murderer!”

Though, there are always exceptions.

“Are you saying we’re rapists?” Yelled a student.

“Yes! But you can save yourselves-”

Two policemen with U.Y Police clad in their uniform and navy caps approached the man. Both had their backs to Walker, and the larger of the two interrupted him “Listen, buddy, you got to stop.”

The screeching man swung his microphone to the crowd and kept speaking, “You see! They are trying to censor me. They know the truth!” He turned to address the two policemen, “This is public property, and I am in compliance with the law! Just like those kids and their unholy literature,” the man pointed a crooked finger at the table where two girls at the Sewing: The Only Noose You’ll Need! table.

The smaller one spoke up, “Not if you’re causing a disturbance or scaring people. You can’t be calling them rapists and murderers sir.”

Walker was surprised to hear that the smaller one was actually a woman. The uniform, combined with the cap (that he assumed held her long hair) hid the feminine features quite well.

The preacher snarled, “Didn’t know they let a bitch on the police force anymore,” and spat a glob of saliva at the police officers.

Walker frowned, and the murmurs that previously came from the scatter of students listening rose to a healthy protest. He left the growing crowd just after the policeman slammed the man into the ground and cuffed him.

Given the reputation that this university was one of the most technologically advanced universities in the U.R, Walker was surprised that the architecture wasn’t more modern. Though, he didn’t know what he was expecting. A city of glass? Copper? With the archway behind him, he craned his neck and slowly spun to drink it all in.

“Don’t know where you’re going?”

Walker turned. A student clad in garnet-red with a name tag on his lapel stating Josh Pecker held a paper sign that flapped in the wind making the word on it ineligible.

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“I guess, is there a map or something I can take a picture of?” Walker asked.

“Sure, thing man!” The student slid a fanny pack in front of his crotch, hastily reached in, and pulled out a map.

Walker accepted it and stared at the layout.

“Say, it's none of my business, but did you just come from our new School Spirit Tumble and Greet game on Fictus?” He asked with more cheer than Walker could’ve ever mustered up at eight-thirty in the morning.

He evaluated his clothes. He was wearing grey shorts and a white shirt. However, both held splotches of dirt and mud from his time in the forest before he arrived.

Walker mustered up a grin and tried to match his energy “Umm, yeah. Go garnets.”

The student smiled even wider, which Walker didn’t think was possible, and raised his hand for a high five. Walker smacked it and slid past the student official, map in hand. Unfortunately, by doing so the student took the opportunity to follow through and slap Walker’s ass.

Both cheeks.

Walker spun around, but Josh Pecker had already stomped off to greet other students. Was this normal? He was no stranger to guys smacking his ass due to his time playing pickup on the court, but Walker guessed that such an activity transcended both time and space.

After analyzing the map, he navigated through the cement streets and found himself in front of a revolving glass door. After taking a deep breath, he stepped through the entrance. His hair, now growing shaggy, bristled at the powerful air conditioning that blasted from above. The red brick of the exterior had transformed into an asylum white. Posters on the wall shouted generic inspirational quotes. It was a short hallway that opened up to a cathedral-sized room. Shouts, grunts, and the slamming of iron on iron emanated from it.

Walker stepped forward and joined the quickly shortening line. Blocking his entrance to the official U.Y gym was two turnstiles on either side of a podium with a monitor and a person observing the monitor.

Walker’s heart began to thump in his chest. Like other students ahead of him, he pulled out his brother's I.D. card from his wallet and held it in his hand. Walker stood in the right line, and only two students were left in front of him. He scooted to the outside to observe the process. You pressed your card on a circular platform, the light turns green, and the guy monitoring the screen would look at it and wave for you to move through the turnstile.

One person left in front of him. Keeping his face flat, and his body language hopefully relaxed, he looked over his shoulder. A long line. Before he could even think about leaving and recuperating, he was next.

Walker gave the burly man at the monitor “the nod” and placed the ID card on the circular pad. It buzzed green. Walker noticed, like Josh Pecker, the man behind the monitor wore a maroon shirt tucked into beige shorts. Must be the uniform.

The guy stared at the screen, furrowed his thick brows, looked at Walker, then looked back at the screen.

“Just got contacts,” Walker offered.

The man stared at him while Walker stood there, fighting to keep his body slack. What a way to get caught, not even an hour in at a turnstile.

He waved him through, and Walker stepped through the turnstile. He made it several steps before he took a deep breath and headed for the locker rooms. After taking a long, scalding shower. He put on his last pair of clean clothes and headed out of the building with a relaxed expression. The exit also had turnstiles, but no one monitoring it. So after he placed his stolen card on the platform and beeped green he was out.

Feeling refreshed, he explored the campus. While Walker didn’t find architecture particularly interesting, he couldn’t help but feel impressed at the sheer scale of some of the areas around campus. Most of the buildings had Doric columns for support that added a mythological inclination to the area. Furthermore, sweeping arches and looming towers that overlooked the campus were so common that one couldn’t look at the sky without something cutting through their view.

Statues of scholars and famous figures seven times his height were often the centerpiece of courtyards and walking roundabouts. One statue out of countless others caught his eye. The base was a rectangular prism that grew upwards. About a third of the way up the smooth rectangular sides ended, almost like a loaf of bread torn in half. Growing from the base was a man crouched with a pickaxe in the left hand and a rifle in the right hand. A hard hat adorned his head. The face was intricate, the man was triumphant. This was the only statue he looked at its plaque:

Jack Yttri: Founder

Almost inspired, Walker moved on to his final destination of the day, The Atrium. A grand building that scraped the sky. Like the gym, Walker had to beep in at the turnstiles. However, instead of someone manning a monitor. A soft boulder of a man sat perpendicular to the turnstiles. A warped paperback with the picture of a long-haired, shirtless man was the only thing that occupied the desk. He sat there, eyes closed, and arms crossed.

The familiar scent of dust and paper filled his sinuses and he breathed in deeply. An amiable scent. From what he could tell the library was at least nine stories of shelves with small areas interspersed throughout that held tables and stuffed chairs for people. While a few students chilled on the plush chairs to read or scroll on their phones, the place was mostly deserted. He figured it would fill up as the days reached into the school year, but it was still a shock to see something so large, so empty.

After meandering around the gargantuan shelves for a few minutes, Walker avoided the stringy librarian strolling around with a cart full of books to instead search for his intended subject on one of the computers stationed in front of a bookshelf.

Finding the general area, he climbed the stairs to the fifth floor and strolled around while murmuring the labels.

“Biography… Methodology… Philosophy… Psy-” He skirted to a stop.

A girl, one of Yttrium’s actual students, was standing on her tiptoes and reaching for a book on an upper shelf while still holding onto a binder in her other hand. He must’ve made a sound because she landed on her heels and faced him. She was petite, that was for sure, easily battling five feet. With full blond that tickled her shoulders and kind crystalline eyes that attracted his gaze. Walker couldn’t help but have a small smile force itself on his mouth.

“Need some help?”