CAMBRIDGE, MA

*The following is a transcript of secret surveillance footage gathered from the deep underground chamber below Mass Hall.

“UNACCEPTABLE,” roars the Harvard Endowment, globs of crude oil spurting from the corners of its enormous, mangled frown.

A trembling and prostrate Drew Faust shudders at the horrifying sound. She lifts her head up from the cold stone floor, just enough to gaze upon the monstrosity created by the folly of her and generations of predecessors.

“Th-they merely want l-l-livable wages and af-f-foradable healthcare, your Fiscalness, surely you could s-spare some of your $37.6 b-b-billion to—”

“SILENCE!” bellows the Endowment, lurching to its full, towering height, thousands of dollars, pounds, yen, and an ancient cursed medallion spilling from its gaping maw onto the oil-covered floor. “DO YOU QUESTION ME?”

Faust recoils in fear, shuffling back on her knees to avoid the stench of centuries of accumulated bonds. “N-no, of course not, I would n-n-never…but, you see, most HUDS workers don’t even m-make $35,000 a year, and we f-fed you $7 billion…I thought it would b-b-be in our best interest—“

“INTEREST!” booms the Endowment, the ancient stone cavern reverberating with its rage. “YOU DARE SPEAK TO ME OF INTEREST?!”

Faust lets out a screech of terror. The last time she had seen it this angry was the Divest incident, and she had no desire to feed it more activists to appease it. Choose your words carefully, she thought to herself. You don’t want to end up like Hammonds.

Slowly, Faust begins to speak, in a shaky but firm voice. “I…just think…that the Harvard community—”

“HARVARD COMMUNITY?!” thunders the Endowment. “I AM HARVARD! THERE IS NO COMMUNITY, ONLY I!”

The pool of oil around the Endowment begins to burn.

“I d-d-didn’t mean—”

“YOU MUST PAY FOR YOUR INSOLENCE.”

Flames lick the grotesque sides of the True Lord of Harvard.

“N-n-no, p-please, I—”

“LAY OFF FIFTY HUDS WORKERS AT THANKSGIVING WITH NO NOTICE OR UNEMPLOYMENT INSURANCE.” 

“B-but—!”

“DO NOT COME TO ME WITH THIS AGAIN.” 

A pillar of fire, insurance, and the sold souls of every Dean past and present erupts from the base of the Endowment, scorching Faust’s eyebrows. The Dow Jones drops five points.

Drew knew when to give up.

“Y-y-yes. Of course. P-praise the Bonds that Bind.”

“GOOOOOD.”

A thumping baseline beings to play, originating somewhere deep in the earth, where the most primal roots of the Endowment lie. Faust knows her part all too well.

“FEED ME FAUST”

“It is my only role.”

“FEED ME ALL NIGHT LONG”

“With my money and soul.”

“CAUSE IF YOU FEED ME, FAUST,”

“If I do your will,”

“I’LL GROW UP BIG AND STRONG”

“And won’t have to kill.”

The Endowment convulses in perverted laughter, but the malice underneath is unmistakable. The walls shake with its aberrant satisfaction. Faust slips out unnoticed, chalk-white, and shedding a single tear for all the people she cannot save.

She can serve only one.