Fiction Campus
SEQUENCE 13

You want to hear how terrible the cry of the universe is? Huf, an end of myself in the horizon of age. I languish incessantly. It's draining me more and more and trapping me on the side of the universe. Weirdo? Naturally, this is a figure of speech that I do not understand its meaning. Not because of the adherence of the heart, we become misbehaved with the movements of other humans. Experimental what? How can we think of God's engineering wandering everywhere!

I will tell you randomly about my experience as an observer of life. This was before the news of the departure of some of my college scholars present cynically in the ears. I hope you are not stressed and disappointed at the end of this story. You can assume the story I'm about to bring to the skies of Melbourne, just my disdain for the limitations on the other side of the educational world. Clearly, this is how I explore caring for myself and the world.

That morning, I briefly switched eyeballs to the vegetable man. The damp and patient-faced father had just arrived. Yes, only our campus is light and comfortable for a major vegetable handyman to enter. It is also because the paracentric dormitory becomes part of our campus area.

The long ‘ngek’ sound of black balloons made from tires became the hostel students' invite, displaying their identity. From the graceful ones syar’i to veiled.

“Good, right? Our campus teams are both in the semifinals,” said a sorority sister when I relented as a man in cooking expenses.

“Unfortunately, they have to stop there. I heard they were venting failure to the final by vacationing there a few days.” That information crept quickly into my ear like the ‘endemik’ virus.

But I prefer to hear directly from Hajar. And I spilled my fatigue by choosing vegetables. I am actually very lazy to make food. While Zoro was having a friendly duet in Bali with Hajar as a team, I asked Snoopy and Takiya for the business of arranging food.

Usually there's always a plain request from me on Zoro as a good cook. Unfortunately, he was struggling in the field of suffering.

The dilemma I lost doesn't suck. What is ‘pungo’? Indeed Sir Bima and Pak Furqon did accompany the children of the debate in Bali. But after I traced it straight from Picolo, the news of the defeat was true.

Picolo informs by message on mobile phone. I was as slow as I was as if my tone had changed drastically. I lost blood pressure instantly. Reported from anywhere, as great as I tell you the actual news, I just ‘stay cool’ put up mimic style Princess Indonesia as if really with you.

I ran towards the ‘security’ room near the campus front gate. I went to Mr. Grace and asked for the defeat once more. I still can't believe it. I'd melt more if I muttered about the greengrocer to Mr. Grace. I am infatuated with that information not because of Hajar, but now I am on a reincarnation search mission. What is implied in your brain cells when you hear the word reincarnation? It may be just a superstition that links reality and illusion.

It was like a piece of trash that had to be thrown into place. If you think, garbage only has a place, why do the corruptors even like to take the rations of other God creatures? Totally ‘pungo’. The universe must be crying. It's tragedy. And the reincarnation I was referring to was none other than a transitional mission of writing to my frustration over the paracochial brothers. Mr. Amin, an S.Ag who daily also helped Mr. Iwan clean the campus environment and equipment, told me about the departure of some of them. He sat with Mr. Grace that morning in the security room.

My frustration with some of the paraclutic brothers added to the pulse of disappointment. Whereas in that year, our campus has been given responsibility for the Mission Aim. Which means, the local Sumbawa district manager asked our side to find candidates for scientific research every year from then on, to be fully funded for four years.

I who incidentally a piece of meat there never got such a beautiful pleasure from the beginning. I am not jealous of my brothers. I am thankful that our green house is appreciated. And the award and trust in the Bidik Missions scholarship on our part, further increased the intensity of the usual intellectual candidates we do.

“What worries me the most is that they never want to take care of their tax debts for the country again. In addition, we often quarrel with Pak RT next door because we never want to lose the debate. They will resemble the human version of ‘apes’ when invited to debate. Whatever debate he will have,” explained Mr. Amin along with his unique philosophy.

He's always been my best friend half the time

Although his daily life is teaching PAI subjects at our MTS Majdiyah campus, he does not have the prestige of working to help Mr. Iwan as a worker who takes care of cutting grass to clean the campus.

“He thinks people in uniform are the same as everyone else. Most people hold respect for such people as more knowledgeable. And I don't agree with the facts behind it all. Well, all women are always changed by the experience of life when it has a mother's title. And basically, all these mothers can be more terrible than the look of the king of the forest when it has pounced on its prey, “ continued Mr. Amin.

“However, the most crazy thing is, I don't really understand how to manage money in a household. My wife once worried about being an unworthy woman as a life partner for a standardizing measure of a wife. Fortunately, it only exists in high-level delusion. The comparison is, he got the pain ration nine months and ten days, while I was only 5-10 minutes in circumcision. God is Most Fair.”

I almost never understood his philosophy. But my ears were made glad to hear his unusual prose sentence. His words are honest and always encourage his interlocutors.

“Change heads, not minds. Bizarrely. The universe will be sad if the human mindset is contaminated with material and rules that are too glorified. It was also a time when several years my mother was widowed, frustration rampant and flying filled the space of the imagination of her femininity. His life seems to no longer be dabbling with dreams and hopes even for just nostalgia. The past and present are only one of the views of his life,” reply I tried to connect with him. Although my heart is still wounded by the news of the defeat of Hajar and his friends.

I also thank the canteen aunt's favorite vegetable maker. He is indeed a man of the plain genre but full of spruce life colors. The excessive living expenses borne by the aunt of the canteen as well as her daughter's daily abdominal needs, did not become the black side.

“Will there be a world without wars again, sir?” ask Mr. Grace who sat next to Mr. Amin and suddenly changed the genre of the situation. Mr. Amin did not respond. He was busy changing his gaze toward the aunt of the canteen who was chatting with vegetables, who would be ready to be swayed by his cooking skills later.

At least that's the mind of Mr. Amin I read. He then asked me and Mr. Rahmat to accept the offer of his treat to drink coffee in the cafeteria. And the bizarre discussion resumed as our humble buttocks occupied the light brown long chair.

“If the hearts are together, not then the humans who are still willing to take up arms will be able to understand each other!” the previous greengrocer who received a canteen aunt call to stop by. Paracendekia has ‘nickname’ for aunt canteen that is ‘Timbok’. The sound of the letters ‘k’ is the same as the sound of the letters ‘k’ on the vocabulary ‘Amak Toak’.

“Then, why was the heart created, sir?” I asked Mr. Amin to try to act curious.

“Because as humans the most important thing is not what we think, but about the things we feel. Rules are important as the rails of life. But love can be more than that. Compassion allows us to see imaginary things outside the tracks. And therefore a single heart is not enough to make all the people of this world stop thinking of hatred just for a desire for war, he said,” obviously Mr. Amin made me rise in the forehead by his language so high and difficult to understand.

“Big The boss knows it's a hit, sir. He knows about the heart. Especially war. Altitude sampean language. Big Boss is a phobia of heights!” canda Timbok at once ended the metaphor discussion. From Timbok's statement, the misunderstanding of scholars about my relationship with Hajar.

From that day on, I began to think and be influenced to read the reality of this original life. This world is indeed filled with endless chains of disambiguation. Hatefully. From the dawn of technology, the ceiling of the universe may have been screaming almost every day. In conclusion, humans are weak. Just like my weakness is influenced by my love for Hajar.

Even though I promised to take her to Melbourne with me, I still thought of a way to hug my best friend across the country and put together all the contents of a fictional campus story for her. I haven't even voiced about her to the scholar as per her cute plea just yet.