Smell In Anne Belk Hall Not What You Think It Is
August 31st, 2024
ANNE BELK HALL - The dog days of summer are upon us and with the return of students to campus comes the familiar smell of computer science majors. The Campus Bookstore is feverishly slashing its prices this week on hygiene products in order to combat the army of unwashed asses that march under the hot summer sun of Sanford Mall.
In the hallowed corridors of Anne Belk Hall on the third floor and along the western wall where the evening sun burns the brightest lies App State’s computer science department. The Rotten Appal Field Team interviewed a particularly musty group of gentlemen who have gathered to play World of Warcraft Classic - an online roleplaying game designed for men who have depression. These men are used to odious accusations linking them to the noxious scent of Anne Belk. Noobslayer69 (who prefers to go by his in-game name) is aware of the odor but claims that his group isn't to blame.
“It always smelled like this. Even during Covid, you could smell something funny coming from this area," he said.
This has been confirmed by faculty members who worked in Anne Belk Hall during that time. Even summer school attendees reported smelling something funny when the classrooms are nigh unpopulated.
“Me and my friends always shower at least once a week,” Mr. Noobslayer explained. “Whenever the server updates, we’ll use that time to take care of ourselves.” The large man went on to say that the server updates occur every Tuesday at 8 am. During that time, him and all his friends share one bar of soap and help each other shower, then practice finding the courage to talk to women before they can get back to their escapist fantasy world where no one can hurt them.
I could smell that I was getting close to a real scoop, and just like Toucan Sam, I was prepared to follow my nose to get to the bottom of this juicy story.
I left Mr. Noobslayer and followed the scent until I came upon a door left slightly ajar where the stink was so thick you could set your coffee cup down on it. The squeak of wheels turning hinted that the machinations of something complex were at work. The light was dim when I entered, and I was greeted by a faculty member named Jimbo. Here, the odor was the strongest. I introduced myself and explained that I was reporting on the strange smells in Anne Belk, and he smiled and offered me a seat, to which I obliged. He explained that he was the network administrator and that I had found the server room that was responsible for keeping half the school's internet up and running. He had recently met with one of my fellow reporters who was reporting on rolling network outages that have been affecting parts of App state. He was unaware of the smell I spoke of.
“Yeah, we weren’t expecting to take on this many students.” He points to a graph showing what the network could support. “We can only take on so many users at a time with our current allocation. Either we need to buy more IP addresses so that we can increase our bandwidth, or we’re gonna have to breed more hamsters…”
Hamsters? I asked.
“Yup.” He slid a chassis off one of the many massive server computers. A powerful stench permeated the room, and my stomach lurched in disgust. Tears began to well in my eyes as I saw that Jimbo had revealed four hamsters running in tandem on little tiny wheels. “We power the whole campus this way, and they pretty much never need anything or stop working.” He smiled a buck-toothed grin and pulled one of the hamsters off of its wheel. He plucked a dry kernel of corn out of a glass dish on his desk and fed it to his friend before placing him back into the server chassis with a gentle pat on the back.
I left Anne Belk Hall with more questions than answers that day. Could the weekly showers of App State’s incel population be to blame? Could the hamster farm running our network really be more cost effective than actual power banks? Does Jimbo really even work here? Is this “going green?” And if it is, is it worth the horrendous smell?
One thing I did know for certain was that if you’re not taking advantage of the deals on deodorant and body wash at the Campus Bookstore, then you’re not taking advantage of everything this university has to offer you.
In the hallowed corridors of Anne Belk Hall on the third floor and along the western wall where the evening sun burns the brightest lies App State’s computer science department. The Rotten Appal Field Team interviewed a particularly musty group of gentlemen who have gathered to play World of Warcraft Classic - an online roleplaying game designed for men who have depression. These men are used to odious accusations linking them to the noxious scent of Anne Belk. Noobslayer69 (who prefers to go by his in-game name) is aware of the odor but claims that his group isn't to blame.
“It always smelled like this. Even during Covid, you could smell something funny coming from this area," he said.
This has been confirmed by faculty members who worked in Anne Belk Hall during that time. Even summer school attendees reported smelling something funny when the classrooms are nigh unpopulated.
“Me and my friends always shower at least once a week,” Mr. Noobslayer explained. “Whenever the server updates, we’ll use that time to take care of ourselves.” The large man went on to say that the server updates occur every Tuesday at 8 am. During that time, him and all his friends share one bar of soap and help each other shower, then practice finding the courage to talk to women before they can get back to their escapist fantasy world where no one can hurt them.
I could smell that I was getting close to a real scoop, and just like Toucan Sam, I was prepared to follow my nose to get to the bottom of this juicy story.
I left Mr. Noobslayer and followed the scent until I came upon a door left slightly ajar where the stink was so thick you could set your coffee cup down on it. The squeak of wheels turning hinted that the machinations of something complex were at work. The light was dim when I entered, and I was greeted by a faculty member named Jimbo. Here, the odor was the strongest. I introduced myself and explained that I was reporting on the strange smells in Anne Belk, and he smiled and offered me a seat, to which I obliged. He explained that he was the network administrator and that I had found the server room that was responsible for keeping half the school's internet up and running. He had recently met with one of my fellow reporters who was reporting on rolling network outages that have been affecting parts of App state. He was unaware of the smell I spoke of.
“Yeah, we weren’t expecting to take on this many students.” He points to a graph showing what the network could support. “We can only take on so many users at a time with our current allocation. Either we need to buy more IP addresses so that we can increase our bandwidth, or we’re gonna have to breed more hamsters…”
Hamsters? I asked.
“Yup.” He slid a chassis off one of the many massive server computers. A powerful stench permeated the room, and my stomach lurched in disgust. Tears began to well in my eyes as I saw that Jimbo had revealed four hamsters running in tandem on little tiny wheels. “We power the whole campus this way, and they pretty much never need anything or stop working.” He smiled a buck-toothed grin and pulled one of the hamsters off of its wheel. He plucked a dry kernel of corn out of a glass dish on his desk and fed it to his friend before placing him back into the server chassis with a gentle pat on the back.
I left Anne Belk Hall with more questions than answers that day. Could the weekly showers of App State’s incel population be to blame? Could the hamster farm running our network really be more cost effective than actual power banks? Does Jimbo really even work here? Is this “going green?” And if it is, is it worth the horrendous smell?
One thing I did know for certain was that if you’re not taking advantage of the deals on deodorant and body wash at the Campus Bookstore, then you’re not taking advantage of everything this university has to offer you.