Sources close to North College confirmed yesterday after a week of speculation that efforts to create the much-touted class-selection algorithm, meant to go into effect during the Fall 2006 semester have not, in fact, culminated in an incredibly complicated miracle of mathematics, but rather in an enormous mind-reading robot controlled by Vice President and Secretary of the University Peter Patton.
The algorithm was originally conceived to replace the “click” system, which countless parents and students have called unfair and unnecessarily stressful.
“Oh shit oh shit oh shit what’s happening I don’t have any classes I think my computer froze,” said a girl in one registration session last month.
However, in a shocking development, Patton revealed that the money meant to fund research to create the algorithm had been funneled into more malevolent projects when he appeared riding the Pattonbot2000 down College Row at 8:15 p.m. last Wednesday night.
Witnesses were few as most students on campus over Thanksgiving were inside watching Kim get kicked off “America’s Next Top Model,” but a few shaken onlookers reported hearing Patton yelling, “They will be minnnneeee! Alllll minnnnnnneee!” as he and the enormous robot marched by.
The Argus was able to secure an exclusive interview with Patton, who has been hiding out with Pattonbot2000 in the farmland a few miles from campus.
“He’s been subsisting mostly on stolen grain,” Patton said, appearing mostly possessed of his senses at the time of his interview, despite disheveled hair and torn clothing. “He doesn’t eat meat: we could never have a carnivorous robot serving our students. They would be too upset.”
The Pattonbot2000, which Patton insisted was to be referred to as “Patrick,” is specially designed with Extra Sensory Perception, meaning that students should only need to make eye contact with Patrick for thirty seconds in order for him to use his 6 Terabytes of memory to scan their brains for their top eight class picks, electronically analyze and recombine these picks with other students’ statistics, and spit out a schedule in just under a minute.
“What they don’t know is that Patrick will do no such thing,” Patton said, his eyes growing wild with glee.
All those students who lodged complaints last year will get Econ 110 for their trouble—for the particularly determined ones, five semesters of organic chemistry! In a row! And there won’t be a damn thing they can do about it because we’ll fry them with the superpowerful lasers I have cleverly hidden in Patrick’s torso! The entire student body will be scared into submission, and then we will have some peace around here! Finally!“
He proceeded to break into laughter that went on far longer than is socially acceptable, turning to this reporter and saying, ”Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve gotten a good night’s sleep around here? The bitching and moaning! I can’t stand it!“
At this point he lapsed into frenzied muttering, from which the phrases ”neutral my ass,“ ”wants a station manager,“ ”yeah well your chalk will just wash away,“ and ”bread pudding“ could be discerned.
As of press time, Patton had fled further into the Connecticut countryside and could not be reached for further comment. Sources at North College say he is in contact daily, but decline to expound on the topic of the use of robotics in administrative processes.
”I heard a good joke about a robot once, though,“ said a North College secretary willing to comment. ”A robot walks into a bar. Barman says, ‘Sorry, we don’t serve robots here.’ Robot says, ‘Oh, but someday you will.’“ She paused a moment, then said, ”Wait a little, you’ll get it.“
It must be admitted that this reporter was too flummoxed by the punch line to investigate this matter any further.
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