when: a week or two after casino night
where: nate’s dorm room
Nate looked at the newsletter the school had sent out about the time capsule, the last call for recordings before the cut-off, his hand rubbing at his jaw, scratching at the day old scruff there as he considered. It wasn’t his type of thing - what could he possibly offer up of value for the rich kids who were attending Ogden fifty years in the future? He didn’t even want to think about that many years dragging by, what misery he would’ve been put through by then. It seemed less like a feel good memento for a future anniversary than an acute form of torture for those that were still here today.
Setting up his phone, his face showing little to no emotion as he hit record, Nate leaned back in his chair, eyes on the screen for a few moments as the seconds ticked away. “I don’t have anything to say for this shit. Even if I did, you wouldn’t want to listen to it,” he said finally, shrugging up one shoulder, half-heartedly, eyes daring around the room rather than watching and seeing himself recording this. “I’m not the type of person people should listen to,” he muttered.
Nate knew who the type of person people would listen to at this school, anyways. It wasn’t him. It would never be him. The people who did or had (at some point) liked him - Sloane, determined to piss off her family, or Rhia, leaving him behind and not looking back as soon as she got a look at popularity. Or the people who hated him. Greer, once she found how just how far he’d go. Or Jesse, who was...more similar to him than he realized. Who was him but...likable. Rich. Charming. He got why someone would pick the other male over him.
“You know when you really fucking hate someone, and it turns out you’re just looking into a reflection?” he said, eyes downcast, looking into the hands in his lap instead of at the camera. He lapsed into silence, the moment dragging on for a beat too long, then two, Nate still stoically staring downwards even as internally his emotions were swirling. “Never wanted to acknowledge how alike we were. But he’s...better,” he said, swallowing, his throat visibly bobbing as he did so, thinking of what Jesse said to him at the beginning of casino night, a frown settling onto his face. “And he was right.”
“I really have nothing to offer for this shit. For this school. Even for the people I...actually like. Even my ex-girlfriend only dated me for fucking shock value. Piss off her parents. Mission accomplished. Her dad is a fucking cunt,” he said, the words nearly spit out as he shook his head, nostrils flared out slightly. “Can’t blame anyone though. For keeping me distance. I would too, if I were them. I’m damaged goods, after all,” he said, eyes finally looking back up towards the camera, a wry smile coming to his face.
Rapidly leaning forward, the motion jerky as he jabbed at the stop button, Nate snatched his phone as he got out of the chair. He flopped back onto his bed, eyes distant as they looked up at the ceiling, spinning a lighter between his fingers, the other hand still clutching his phone, considering. A few moments passed, silence swelling in the room, before he turned his head, looking at his phone again.
If there was one thing Sassa was good at, it was her talent with a camera. Which in this instance, was very handy. She used her good camera, good lighting - but not too good, so it looked like a heavy hand - and set up for recording the time capsule.
“Ogden College, 2072,” she cooed in greeting, her full lips parting as she let a small, coy smile spread across her face.
“Here’s hoping that in fifty years, when you’re watching this, and my name comes up….it’s collectively shocking. With my inevitable future, my career and all my accolades…surely college age me has some wisdom to impart,” she said, her smile turning into a cheeky grin, a playful wink dropped into the camera.
Sassa may tone down her ego when she was around a lot of people…she may pretend to be a meek little sweet thing, at least as much as possible, but there was no reason to pretend, when in fifty years, all would be known to be as it truly was?
“Well, I want to be a documentarian. I want to be able to show people as they really are, you know? And I’m hoping in fifty years, I’ve been able to do that. And if I have, then hopefully some people…you, even….will have a better understanding of people. And specifically, the people around you.”
She paused, her expression turning serious, her eyes hardening, before she continued speaking.
“Because people aren’t who they say they are. They aren’t who they pretend to be. Trust me. Nothing and no one is what they seem. Especially if what they seem is too good to be true.”
She could say it directly. Greer Morrison was not what she seemed, was not who she pretended to be. But even in a recording that wouldn’t be seen for decades, Sassa couldn’t bring herself to be that much of a snake, not wanting it to bite her in the ass. Plausible deniability, always.
“So don’t trust them. Don’t trust anyone. Seems like Greer might’ve learned that was a mistake the hard way. I don’t know. Just a suspicion. Tell me if I’m right, yeah? I’m sure I’ll have some sort of documentary out about what really happened this semester by then - and no. This time capsule does not count.”
Jacqui sat down, light washing over them as they adjusted the lamp and their phone, trying to get an ideal set up to record this video. They were feeling contemplative - had been in a weird mood for the past few days, if they were being honest, and finally decided to record a submission for the time capsule. Perhaps getting some thoughts of their chest would help. Sure - they were a little high. But it’s not like anyone would be able to tell on the video. And even if they could - no one was watching it for fifty years. What were they going to do about it?
On a side bar - if getting stoned wasn’t legal in 2072, Jacqui seriously hoped Earth went the way of self destruction.
Their head angled to one side as they considered the lighting, finally happy with it before moving to sit back on the floor pillow they had set up, starting to record. “Okay,” they murmured, giving themselves a little shake, as if to reset their thoughts. “Where to start....I wasn’t going to do this, originally. I’m not sure I agree with time capsules, as like….a concept,” they said, wrinkling up their nose. “Besides, I’m a freshman. I’ve only been here for a few months. And it’s not like they’ve been….normal. So I’m not sure if I’m the best person to speak to what Ogden was like fifty years ago. For you. Fifty years ago for you guys. Not to mention, I kinda….doubt any of it mattering that much. No matter who is speaking about it,” they added, shrugging up their shoulders, an exhale accompanying their slump to their original position.
“But I also feel like everyone is going to give the same sorta refrain - somewhere between college is the best four years of your life and fuck this place. And I don’t agree with either of those,” Jacqui mused, eyes losing their focus, looking off into the distances as they rambled. “Maybe I just feel like playing the contrarian,” they quipped, a grin lifting one side of their lips.
“But, you know...when I was touring colleges last year, and came to see Ogden…the campus made me feel like I had found something special. Something to treasure. And that’s pretty fucking cool, with how fucked up everything in the world is. Honestly...I had been looking for that ever since…well, ever since I met this guy a couple years ago.”
As soon as Jacqui said it, they scrunched up their nose, curling their lip up in a hint of disgust - damn, couldn’t even pass the Bechdel test when talking to themselves. But...it was honest.
“He made me think he cared about me,” they continued, the words coming out slowly as she began to speak again. “Made me feel like….I don’t know. Life is so fucked up, you know. Nothing matters. We’re all just trying to get from point a to point b, but…Jesse made me feel like I mattered,” she said, refocusing into the camera lens as their expression turned contemplative, a small crease appearing on their forehead.
“And then it turned out it was all just…fake. A game for him. A literal bet. And once he won, he just ghosted. Even though I was…”
With that, Jacqui shook their head, cutting themselves off. No, somethings were better left unsaid. Even if no one would know about it for decades.
“Anyways. I don’t hold it against him,” they said, pressing their lips together. “Maybe I should, but I don’t. Because I think that while he was pretending to be whoever he needed to fool me…he was actually more himself than he normally is. And damn, if I can’t relate to that. Think we all can, in a way.” Jacqui shrugged again, a quiet sniff following the words.
“All that to say that I guess my advice or whatever…life is too short. Do what you want to do. Even if you’re scared how it’s going to look to other people. Just be yourself. God, we’re all just floating in space on a fucking rock. Who cares what other people think?”
Jacqui leaned forward to stop the recording, pausing with their hand just above the screen, a smile quirking their lips upwards as they let out a small laugh. “Guess that’s assuming that in fifty years Earth is still livable and humankind hasn’t fled to a spaceship or some shit.”
As soon as Court had heard about the time capsule, he planned on recording a submission for it - he loved Ogden! He loved his teams, his friends, his classes - he had so much he could talk about! But he was busy, and most of spring semester ticked away, and he still hadn’t recorded it. Every so often it came up again, a brightness alighting on Coco’s face every time he recalled his excitement for the project.
Of course, things were a bit different now. He had injured his knee, sitting out of lacrosse practice for the last few days, and more than enough time on his hands. Which he didn’t know what to do with. And could barely burn off his energy - and for someone like Courtney Mills, that was never a good thing.
So, while he was feeling morose, self-pitying, an excess of anxiety built up and thrumming through his body with his inability to burn it off in anyway….he still found himself thinking of what he could record. What they’d want to pass on to the students attending Ogden College fifty years in the future.
“Hello!” he chirped, greeting the camera brightly once he had it set up, the lighting catching the sparkle in his eye - still there, even in his current mood. “I’m Courtney Mills - my friends call me Court. My pronouns are he/they -“ a pause - “Hopefully that’s something that’s…easier in the future,” he said, a small laugh leaving his lips. Out of view from camera, Courtney’s hand rubbed at their knee, the swollen, discolored joint purposefully kept off the recording.
“I’m a lacrosse player, pre-med student. Currently a freshman. For another week or so,” he said, a crooked smile accompanying the statement, like the end of the year wasn’t looming, and the change that was coming didn’t have him all at odds with himself. As changes often did when it came to Court. And the fact that first, as always, he defined himself as a lacrosse player. An athlete. But that was what the school had done too, wasn’t it? By giving him money, accepting him even, as an athlete.
Who were they, if not who they already were?
Did that even make sense?
“College has been great for me,” Coco said slowly. “Ogden has been…great for me. High school wasn’t always easy. I guess you could say that I was, like, a late bloomer or whatever. And kids - at least in my day and age…” he put on his best crochety imitation of an old man, coaxing inspiration from his own grandfather before continuing, “can be really mean. If they think you’re different. THat’s something I hope as changed as well.”
They let their words stop, taking in a slow inhale before a shrug. “People didn’t always like me. But when I got here…everyone was so much more accepting. But that’s scary in it’s own way, you know? It gives you something to lose.” Something he possibly had lost, already, if this injury didn’t go away. And with Greer…
He shook his head, not letting himself dwell in their thoughts, instead pushing themselves to continue. “I feel like I’ve gotten so addicted to the feeling of people actually liking me, inviting me to things, wanting me around….that I’m petrified of what’ll be like if it goes back to how it used to be. If they decide they don’t like me anymore and I go back to that, that…loneliness. Because when things weren’t always so great, and then they are great…can’t help but be scared it’s not gonna stay that way, you know?” Court quipped, a smile pasted on his face, some mockery of bravery in the statement.
“Anyways....Ogden is great. Maybe too great. And in fifty years, you can see this, look me up and see…all this is just me being paranoid. We can hope, right?”
when: over thanksgiving break, late one evening
where: mari’s room at her family home
“Have you done your time capsule recording yet?”
The question came after silence had been sitting around Mari and her father for more than a few minutes, a comfortable quiet on his end, she was sure, though Mari felt quite differently - as she always did around him. It was best for her to just keep her mouth shut, let him lead the conversation and topics. She glanced over to see Dean peering over the top of his glasses at her, Mari pasting a small smile across her cheeks as she gave a delicate shake of her head.
“Ah, no. Not yet,” she replied, a hint of a flush coming to her cheeks, a sense of guilt, of shame, of his disappointment already rising in her stomach.
Her father frowned from the chair he was sitting in, eyes staying on Mari for a few long moments, his youngest daughter shifting underneath the weight of his gaze. “Let’s do it now,” he suggested, in that tone that showed it wasn’t much of a suggestion at all.
Mari gaped, her mouth opening and closing a few times as she stared up at her father, before giving a rapid shake of her head. “I’m not recording it in front of you,” she said abruptly, chin pulling in to her chest.
“I’ll do it tonight. I promise,” she said a moment later, tone firm, eyes on her father’s. She knew there would be consequences if he didn’t hear she had turned it in from the team managing it the next day - she had no choice but to get her shit together, figure out what she could possibly even say, what was worth recording for the students of Ogden College fifty years in the future.
-
Standing in front of her phone several hours later, Mari took a deep breath, eyes on her own face in the screen, a frown settling onto her lips as she took in the image. Wrinkling her nose up, Mari fiddled with it, adjusting the ring light, the set up of the phone, until she was sitting in front of it, the phone recording, silent as she still had no idea what to say.
Another slow inhale.
Audible exhale.
And action - Mari Zuko, daughter of the dean, shining example of the perfect Ogden student, sorority president was ready to go.
“Hi, Ogden students of 2072,” she said, her smile bright. “I’m probably supposed to give you advice. Tell you what you should do. How to make your four years the best they can possibly be...” she spoke with a lilting charm to her words, the same way she did when her father required her to speak to donors, the same way she did during sorority recruitment. The person she pretended to be when she needed to impress.
“In 2022....we’re all lucky to be students at Ogden. It’s the opportunity of a lifetime. And considering everything, I have to assume it’s the same, even fifty years in the future.”
Mari fell silent, blinking into the camera, her smile slowly fading off her face. “Honestly, though? I don’t think I should be the one telling you what to do, or giving any advice. I....I’m pretty lost, myself.”
A nod, Mari’s gaze shifting down towards her lap, her fingers interlacing, tugging on each other. “They’ll probably edit out any mentions of Greer,” she said, the words under her breath, as if...trying to psych her self up. Give herself courage.
“One of...my friends is missing. She ran away. Allegedly. From here. From Ogden. She was....what all of us revolved around,” she said, still looking into her lap, though she eventually glanced back up towards the camera. “And I thought I knew her. I thought I loved her, even. And that she loved me. But now I’ve just realized I didn’t know her at all. That she purposefully made sure I didn’t. And I thought she was one of the few people who actually knew me.
“But she wasn’t. And I can’t even hold that against her, because the longer it goes on without us knowing where she is, I just...am realizing how little I know myself. And I’m 20 years old. I’m a junior in college. I’m not supposed to, am I? But there’s a lot of pressure. A lot of...external forces. And I was relying on Greer to keep me moored. Which isn’t very fair, is it?”
Her voice returned slowly to its sweet, clear tone, her chin angling upwards, her neck lengthened as she stretched it just right, not even needing to see herself in the recording to know what her good angles were. “Anyways. All that is to say...if nobody else has told you, it’s okay if you don’t know who you are yet. Or what you want. If you’re scared of it.”
She couldn’t say anymore. She couldn’t admit that the reason she was scared was because of her family, her father - the dean of the school. The reason she didn’t know who she was was because she had been told who she had to be her entire life, and she had long since been aware of how poorly she fit into the space that had been carved out for her. But she could maybe make someone fifty years in the future feel a little less lonely. Extend a hand out that she so desperately needed - a hand she thought Greer had provided, only to realized as she went to use it that it had been ripped away, leaving her rapidly over-correcting as she tried to regain the flimsy balance she had previously relied upon.
“College is great for so many things. They’re, like...supposedly the most formative four years of our lives for a reason, right? And Ogden...it’s the most amazing opportunity. Cherish it,” she said, her expression tightening, doing her best to become more earnest as she spewed out the propaganda that had long since been drilled into her. “And good luck.”
there was this spot behind her dorm that ida loved to disappear into sometimes. it was tucked in a spot of grass with the brick walls of the building surrounding her on three sides. you could disappear in it, great place to read, or smoke, or fuck if you were that adventurous.
but today ida had propped up her phone on a little tripod, keeping it low to the ground as she hit record and scooted back, admiring herself in the picture reflecting back as she sat on the ground. she paused a moment before she reached forward to pull out a can of miller lite and hold it up to the camera before tossing it into her lap. fingers pulled at her top, straightened her hair that was tucked neatly behind her ears and they eventually stilled as she pulled one leg toward her chest, cheesing at the camera.
“well hello there ogden of the future! i hope y’all have everythin’ we’ve ever dreamed of, flyin’ cars, clean air, equality.” she smiled, resting her chin on her knee now. “and that y’all ain’t in a parable of the sower type world, cause if that’s the case...y’all ain’t gonna get much from lil ole me.” ida winked now, trying to remain easy-going on the screen. “or maybe i’ll still be there and my seventy-three year old self is watchin’ this right now, if so how do ya do ms. ida may clarke. hope you got all you wanted. and never what you deserved.” she laughed again, though she knew that would be the case. ida was going to make sure of that much.
“anywho, uh...shit’s kinda crazy here. but y’all probably got even crazier shit goin on. it ain’t no pissin’ contest.” she waved her hand as if to brush the thoughts aside. “but here’s what i gotta say and you better listen now, i ain’t gonna repeat myself.” this time she pointed at the camera, her finger wagging at them. “this place ain’t your friend, but make you some friends while you’re here. trust your gut, it’s the only one you got and it ain’t gonna steer you wrong. study when you need to, party when you can. learn to cook your favorite meal. smile at strangers, kiss hot people, call your momma.” she listed quite animatedly, the smile never slipping. “and a piece of advice specially from my diddy. he’s not a college boy but he’s lived a life. one, life is too short for shitty beer so drink what you like. and always remember this - it’s never too hot for chili, never too cold for ice cream, and never too early for a beer.” with a wink she cheersed the camera with her beer before taking out her keys. delicately she cut a hole in the side brought it to her mouth and proceeded to shotgun it on camera. a moment later she finished and tossed it to the side with a winning grin. ida now shifted so she was on all fours staring at the camera as she moved to turn it off. “and that’s all folks, have fun here.” with a thrown up peace sign and last smile, she ended the recording and sat back against the brick, her right thumb nail coming to her mouth as she hit to play to rewatch it over a few times.
A time capsule? As soon as Seb had heard about it, he knew that he had to make a video. Surely in 50 years’ time he’d be well known and well loved, not that he wasn’t already, but by the world. People would want to hear what 20-year-old him had to say and he couldn’t deprive them of that. He had no doubt that he’d be successful, he had to be.
The boy turned on the video, adjusting his positioning in the chair with a small smirk. “So, 50 years, I bet I’m handsome, huh?” he joked, running a hand through his hair. “If you don’t know me- I’ll be shocked if you don’t- I’m Sebastian Morrison, you can call me Seb- only if you’re nice to me though. I’m 20 years old and I’m an Economics Major at Ogden.” He clasped his hands together in front of him, looking into the camera. “Time flies… I’m sure if I ever see this video again I’ll feel like I filmed it yesterday- that’s what they say, when you get old, everything feels like yesterday?” It made him think of Greer, but he pushed the thought aside.
“What are my thoughts on Ogden College?” he smirked folding his arms over. “Well, there’s no better place to study. A supportive, wonderful learning environment where we can all grow to be our best selves. I’m sure my peers would agree,” he knew that to be false, but he wasn’t about to break the charming Morrison appearance to tell his real thoughts. “We’ve got a great football team,” he winked at the camera, “Greek life is top tier, if you’re looking for a social life people will be jealous of, you’ll find it here.”
His smile faltered for a second as he thought about what he’d say next, maybe in 50 years everyone would know the truth about Greer. “My best piece of advice… don’t waste a second of it, because you never know when it’s gonna end. Time flies like I said… anyway, see you in 50 years.” He quickly turned off the camera, sighing as he leaned back in his chair.
Character Task 003: Campus Time Capsule (October 21st, 2022)
A sigh escaped her lips at the exact moment she sat down to start recording the stupid video. What should she even say? "Hi. I'm Jiwon Morrison, I'm 19 years old. I'm a Studio Art major at Ogden." She chuckled. Jiwon knew she didn't sound like herself, but was there a way to sound normal in a video like this? "If you're actually seeing this in 50 years," she started, "then I'm sure the world you live in is very different than mine." She was already blanking out. Why was she even doing this? Ah, yes. Because her parents had asked her to. With Greer gone, they had to make sure the optics on the Morrisons were positive and wholesome, and participating in school events was a big part of that. Jiwon averted her eyes from the camera.
"It's funny, you know? In 50 years, this video will probably be shown to a bunch of freshmen who don't give a shit. Or maybe I'll be someone, and some of you will care that I'm an artist." She scoffed and looked back at the lens. "If I am, I hope I've already conveyed how much I despise every nepo socialite in Ogden. Especially the one who..." She trailed off and looked away again, far too aware of what she was about to say. That wasn't what her parents would want her to say, and it wasn't great from a legal perspective either. Even if this was really kept secret until fifty years in the future, she still wouldn't want to give anyone reasons to think she wasn't on good terms with her cousin. Eventually, they would find her body somewhere, and if Jiwon was half as famous as she hoped she'd be, this could become a PR crisis.
"I see the irony. I'm no different. And you aren't either, probably." She rubbed her eyes in frustration. "This is so stupid. What do you want me to say? Go have fun. Do cocaine. Cheat on your finals. Sleep with your best friend's partner. Try your best not to get stabbed in the back, but I'm sure you will anyway. None of this actually matters, all your parents will pay so nothing ever ruins your damn lives." Another sigh. Jiwon knew she sounded defeated, and she'd been feeling like that, too. She was tired, and overworked, and stressed, and distrustful of everyone around her. But now wasn't the time to let those feelings spill through.
"I'm kidding." She pulled off a fake smile, though not a very convincing one. "Huh, I don't know. Remember to drink lots of water. Go work on your overdue projects. I'll see ya. If I'm still alive. Probably not." She got up to turn off the camera, not sure if she should re-record it. Maybe she should. "Anyway. Bye, I guess."
(Jiwon would go on to record a version that was a lot more composed, but didn't rewatch the videos before sending it because both versions were cringy. She sent the wrong one, but hopefully will be none-the-wiser for at least fifty years.)
