Scene 1: Ronzo's

Student enters drive thru philosophy department off Patterson, and pulls up to microphone adjacent to menu. The sign reads:

Foraging through the p's and q's, she nervously pokes through her wallet. The cars lined up behind her begin to inch impatiently forward. Someone towards the end blows his horn. It costs more than she thought it would. Menu reads:

Philosophy of Mind: (Dr. Ronzo)

heavy reading--$5.25/hr;

light reading $35.33/hr.

Socratic Methods: (Dr. Jimbo)

heavy reading--$3.09/hr.

light reading--$41.50/hr.

combo (with spoon)--$29.99/hr.

Ethics of Human Ecology (Dr. Arbor)

video format-3 hrs. for $96.99

*Grades extra: A -- 19.99/hr; B -- $10.88/hr; C -- $4.50/hr; D -- $.99 (special).

Upgrades: midterm--$5.00/letter/hr.; final--$15.00/letter/hr.

Ronzo's looks like the best choice. She decides she can only afford 'C's since she needs 8 hrs. to graduate. Doesn't look forward to Doc Jimbo's reading lists though, and desperately scours the menu for a sign of hope. Can she afford a light reading section of the course?

"Visa/ Mastercard accepted; no checks please" --a sign from the heavens: thank the Lord for credit cards! She calls out her order to the mic, pulls forward to the window, swipes her NationsBank Visa through the slot at the sill and anxiously waits for the modem to do its magic. While she waits, a polite and attractive clerk asks her if she'd like a straw or a spoon. Her card is accepted (she sighs), the clerk hands her a cup, one with a blue line running the circumference about 3/4 of the way up with the words "FILL LINE" repeating themselves round the cup. Below the line is the label:

The clerk was in pause, still waiting for a reply... "Spoon, Please... Oh, got any napkins?"

"That's Extra."

Student drives off, feeling indignant. "Has education always been this way?" she thought. Certain questions plagued her. In the past, they were vague inklings of trouble at the back of her mind, but now they were concrete struggles at the forefront of her thinking: "Why do the make us go through a Drive Thru?" and more insightfully still, "Why do I have to pay extra for napkins?" Her friends would not understand these challenges, so she kept them private, but she knew that some day, others would have to think as she did, and that there may be even be some reform.

Scene 2: After Ronzo's Drive Thru, Before Graduation:

Ronzo's turned out to be the most user friendly facility: napkins unavailable everywhere else, and they all require their own special kind of spoon, available only at the college store. Right. Inflated prices for sure, but now she has to park--the drive thru there is closed.

Circling around the student lot for a couple of minutes, she notices some picketers driving around, holding up signs out their windows: "Get Rid of Unnecessary Trees!" "Make More Spaces Now!" "Those Trees are Shady Characters!" She remembers hearing about this group on the radio station. They call themselves "Children of the Curb" and are pushing the construction of a new lot somewhere on campus--somewhere, she thinks, where there a few trees left.

She's outraged. "How dare they clog up the lot like that? Why can't they send the vice president an e-mail, like everyone else?"

Worried that she'll never find a space in time to get to the store before it closes, she zips into specially parked space. Sign reads:

She was lucky--these are usually full this time of day. A little worried, she quickly swiped her Visa across the meter and scurried towards the store. She ponders: "I wish they were more clear on 'low risk.'" She's plagued by last week's injustice: two of her friends got towed in one of those spots. Had to pay $150 to get their car back. She continues the dialogue with self: "Why don't they require a permit to use a 'low risk' spot? That way, there wouldn't be so many people trying to get in them and the trucks wouldn't come so often..."

She frowns, straining to continue the train: "If we buy a permit, we should be able to find a 'low risk' spot." Hesitation: a synthetic thought reaches the surface: "Maybe the picketers are right. We need more spaces; there are plenty of trees on the other side of town."

Arriving at the store, still deep in thought... She steps up to the window and a clerk promptly appears. Speaking into the mic, the clerk says: "May I help you?"

"Uh, yeah, I think... I'm trying to remember."

"You'll have to speak into the mic."

"Sorry… I was trying to remember-"

"What's your ID number?"

"Huh?"

"Your ID number!"

"2-5-0-2-3-8-7-9-9"

"Let's see....Ms. Cargo, you'll be needing spoons and books for Lit 2030,

Pol 3309, Bio 1101, and Phi 3210."

"Oh yeah, but I already got a spoon for Phi 3210."

Visibly put off, the clerk's smile submerges: "I'm sorry, but I already told Dr. Ronzo that they're not allowed to give or sell their own supplies--strict orders from the manufacturers."

"Well, I already have a spoon."

The tone now solidifies into disdain as the glass seems to magnify her face: "I'm sorry, I've already billed your account."

"But that's not fair. Why do I have to buy these stupid things--I'll never use them again after the class is over."

"I'm just doing my job--DEAR. If you have a complaint send an e-mail to your Accounts Advisor. He'll be glad to direct you to the proper web site." Covering the mic, the clerk breathes, "WHY do these people always complain?"

Remembering her car, the student gives up: "My Visa's maxed--do you take Discover?"

"Uh huh" The clerk points to the slot and mechanically passes the goods through a door. One swipe later, Cargo moves on, spoons in hand.

She muses along the way, recalling her thoughts from before. Suddenly she remembers her pre-waking experiences last night. Sucked into the events, she loses touch with her bodily motions, and plunges into a deep state of attention. Her hand on the mouse, she drags her attention to the question-mark icon, and clicks away. Deep in space, she comes upon a sign:

Everything stops. The stars fade into the darkness and nothing can be seen. Then flickering bursts of light, flashing images, one after the other, connected-it seems, anyway-yet clearly distinct. The illusion of motion, like a flip deck, but the figures are too hard to see. Too bright. Then, as if by design, the bursts lose some intensity for split second. Looks like a man chasing a tortoise. Blackness again. Now nothing. Two, three, five, then ten seconds. Too uncomfortable, she reboots.

Streetscape fades in. She sees the lot ahead--she hasn't missed a step.

Gets back to her car just in time: the attendant was about to call the truck, but she knew him from a frat party and he let her go.

"Thanks, Steve--I owe you one!"

"No problem. Whatya takin' this term?"

"Three light-reads and one heavy"

"Bummer, why the heavy?"

"Ran out of cash."

"Damn. You'd think they'd give us a break 'round here. Aren't you on a scholarship?"

"They never told me--"

Off in the distance, a stray bicyclist gets hit by a car. It was Doc Arbor, the new ecologist.

Scene 3: Distance Learning

Back in space, straddling a straw, she finds herself whirling through the soup in a vortex of silent eternal motion. Seems as if she and everything else in the swirl is being poured into a bottomless vessel. Horrified, she wants to get off but can't move. Keypad's frozen. Then, by an act of sheer will, she looks down upon her hands and struggles to move them away from the straw. Sound and touch come back.

Cargo wakes with a start. It's Doc Jimbo-his face, rather-blaring at her to wake up. "Chip!" she thinks to herself, "When did I fall asleep? Where am I?" Memory returns to her. She's in Doc Jimbo's Socratic Methods class. He's lecturing about the importance of dialogue. His face seems larger than usual-she thinks the screen is bigger today, but that can't be.

He continues: "Socrates abhorred writing because it detracted from the meaningful exchange of ideas."

The students are frozen, listening for clues, straining to understand-what's going to be on the quiz? His face growing ever larger as he presses even closer to the camera, he delivers the climax: "It is only through FACE-TO-FACE discussion that TRUTH may be found."

Bell rings. Reinvigorated, they promptly begin to leave. Cargo pauses. A wave of light covers her face, as if she were struck by a profound realization. "I'm in the wrong class."

Jimbo's anxious conclusion (almost hopeful): "If there are any questions, you can come see me in my studio."

He walks out and trips over Cargo, who is hurriedly exiting from an adjacent door. "I'm so sorry." he said. "Let me help you pick up your spoons."

Not recognizing him, she doesn't speak., but collects herself and moves on. She drops a spoon. Jimbo picks it up as if to return it, but she's gone. He stands there holding it for a moment, then focuses on the inscription:

Phi-3210 This end forward

Unauthorized Use Prohibited by State Law

Back in the room the bowls are mostly half empty, with two of them untouched. There were some straws on the floor-obviously drops.