Living in Slocum my freshman year, I was spoiled by the fancy fountains spouting cold, clear water.  Moving to Montgomery, a building then completely void of water fountains, was a somewhat unwelcome change. The water from the kitchen or bathroom sink tasted and smelled off. And was I just imagining that slightly brown color? I would still usually make a special trip to Worner or the library just to fill up my water bottle. I refrained from using fountains if the filter light was flashing red, and I became increasingly conservative with the water I had saved up. If friends asked for a swig from my water bottle, I’d say, “Ok, one sip.” Then I’d proceed to stare them down, lest they take a sip and a half.

Sixty-six million years ago: Dinosaurs rule the planet. They range from the size of chickens to that of cargo ships, but they are all about to share a similar fate. At 45,000 miles per hour, a massive chunk of cosmic rock somersaults toward Earth. While the sauropods sleep, a meteor shower streaks the sky orange. Combusting in the Earth’s atmosphere, these asteroid fragments only warn of what is to come.

English crime novelist Agatha Christie once wrote, “The simplest explanation is always the most likely.” This adage hasn’t stopped thousands of people from believing in more complicated explanations of seemingly undisputed events. From Neil Armstrong’s 1969 moon landing to Barack Obama’s birth certificate, Americans have discussed and propagated conspiracy theories for decades.