All is not Wildcat Well

Read the harrowing tales of madness, murder and Allison chicken.

WRITTEN BY ANDREW KWA

None of us really knew what to expect when Northwestern announced Wildcat Wellness. Curfews? Regular testing? Perhaps even a giant N95 mask for the Arch? But as students returned to campus, we soon realized just how far Northwestern was willing to go to prevent the spread of COVID-19. There were whispers of students being forced to live alone in Bobb for days on end without relief. Some warned of students being administered COVID-19 tests with no hope of passing. And some even claimed that students were being hunted down and killed for breaking quarantine.

Here is North by Northwestern’s archive of the most harrowing (and definitely true*) tales from Wildcat Wellness.

day 1

I’ve just moved all of my stuff into Bobb, ready to finally begin my on- campus freshman experience. Even with Wildcat Wellness going on, I’m so excited to finally start getting involved in the social scene here.

day 2

I can already feel the mold growing in my lungs after my first shower. Bobb is so cool! I wonder when I’ll finally meet someone, though. Somehow, I haven’t run into anybody in the hallways, even before curfew.

day 3

I still haven’t run into anybody in the hallways. I’m beginning to despair. After all, if I don’t start aggressively networking within the first two weeks of school, my future as an undergraduate economics major is doomed! Suddenly, I hear a knock on the door, and a slip of paper slides under it. “Zoom social!” it reads. “Meet your fellow Wildcats at 5:00 p.m. tomorrow!”

day 4

I log into Zoom and enter the meeting code. I have to check the slip of paper from yesterday for the password: welovemortywelovemortywelovemorty. At first, I’m relieved to finally see other human faces, even if it is just over Zoom. But then I begin to notice some strange behaviors. “Hello, fellow Wildcats,” one student says. “Aren’t these unprecedented times?”

The rest of the students nod in unison. “ Yes, these are unprecedented times,” one student says. “There is a distinct lack of precedent. Wouldn’t you agree, Sarah?”

Before I can even voice a response, the student nods and speaks. “I appreciate you sharing, Sarah. Bouncing off of that — Purple Pride?”

The other students once again nod in unison and form the Wildcat claw together. “Purple Pride! Purple Pride! Purple Pride!” they start chanting.

I log off of Zoom.

day 8

I have not stepped foot outside of my dorm for the past several days. The silence of the halls is deafening. The solitude is suffocating (actually, that might just be the mold). I fear I am the only one in this strange environment posing as a dorm.

day 11

I wake up in the middle of the night, thirsty for some water. As I get up, I notice something strange in the darkness of my room. My laptop is on, and it’s logged into the same Zoom session from last week.

It’s recording.

I hear a knock at the door. It must be lunchtime. I open the door, and I’m greeted by the sight of Chief Risk and Compliance Officer Luke Figora holding my lunch for the day. He explains that I’ve been randomly selected for an experimental COVID test. He hands me what looks to be a chicken sandwich.

“Take a bite and tell me what that tastes like.”

I stare at the label on the sandwich: “Allison Dining Hall.”

Dear God.

I feel a bead of sweat dripping down my face as I take a slow bite. It’s better than usual — it might have been prepared next to something that was actually seasoned. “It tastes ... salty?”

Luke’s eyes narrowed. “It’s supposed to taste spicy.”

The next day, I receive an email: “ Your COVID-19 results came in positive. Reason: Lack of taste. Please read the following instructions carefully for beginning your quarantine.”

[6:30 a.m.] - Brian stumbles back into the dorm, clearly hungover. “ Where were you last night?” I hiss. “You know we’re not allowed outside of our dorms during Wildcat Wellness!” He stares back at me, a smirk on his face. “I was drinking absolutely gnarly amounts of vodka sodas with Oozma Kappa.” God, he’s so cool, I think to myself. “Be careful. You know he’s always watching.”

[12:00 p.m.] - Brian and I are both enjoying our splendid education at Zoom University. I’m about to begin my Devil’s advocate spiel for my philosophy discussion (ladies love the Devil’s advocate spiel). Suddenly, out of the corner of my eye, I see a shadow race past my dorm window. Brian didn’t seem to notice it. Maybe I’m just seeing things.

[2:00 p.m.] - We hear a knock at the door. “Oh boy, lunchtime!” Brian exclaims. He runs over to our door and flings it open — but a strange sight greets us. Atop our serving of delicious, Morty- approved Wildcat Wings is a small paper note that reads, “I KNOW WHAT YOU DID.” Brian and I stare at each other. Oh God. He’s coming.

[9:00 p.m.] - The dorm hallway has been suspiciously quiet for the past few hours. Suddenly, we hear someone pounding on our door. “Who’s there?” I shakily ask. “JUSTICE,” booms a wrathful, demonic voice. Our door slams open and shatters into a thousand pieces. A hulking, humanoid figure sets foot in our room and turns its beady, soulless eyes towards us. Oh my God, it’s Willie the Wildcat.

[9:30 p.m.] - I now live in a dingle.