I feel my breath and heart grow heavy as I notice the guards strategically seat themselves in the corner of the raised platform, their eyes locked to their watches. They chain-smoke clove cigarettes. I inhale the sweet smell of their smoke. It momentarily conceals the sewage stench that fills the space. They despise my presence, caustically exhaling insults in a language they don’t expect me to understand. Bule bohong,…“stupid white girl”...I feel like I shouldn’t be there at all until I notice the concentration and readiness in my yoga students’ eyes.
Letter from the editor - Pseudo
Every night before bed when my brother and I were kids, our mom would walk into our room, take a seat at the foot of one of our beds and answer any questions that might have come to us over the course of the day. Usually, the back and forth was light and the questions were easy for her to field.
“Boys pee standing up because they have different parts than girls.”
“I don’t know why your tummy hurts, maybe you ate too much dinner.”
“Yes, two boys can get married, but no, you aren’t allowed to marry your brother… Because it’s against the law… It just is.”
Letter from the editor - Animal
Dear Reader,
As a new CC student, I had my first encounter with the shouted sermons of street preachers. From their invisible pulpits on the sidewalk next to Worner, the group screeched their warnings at the unflinching students as they walked past on their way home from classes.
“You’re all animals!”
“The men are rabbits!”
“The women are cockroaches!”
Letter from the editor - Re
Dear Reader,
Outside the publication house, snow falls. Inside, your loyal Cipher staff puts the final touches on Block 4’s issue. On this particular Saturday morning, in its first front-page editorial in 95 years, The New York Times called for outlawing the kinds of rifles used in the massacre that left 14 people dead at a holiday party in San Bernardino last Wednesday.
Letter from the editor - Rebel
Letter from the editor - Twin
Letter from the editor - Plastic
Plastics are the New Ivory
Look at all the things around you: your classroom tables, your phone case, even your clothing. How much of it is made of plastic? Really. Look. At the beginning of the 20th century, the answer would have been “none,” because the first synthetic plastic didn’t come on the scene until 1907. Humankind seemed to be doing quite all right without this now ubiquitous material, but its invention actually saved the lives of many elephants due to the self-interest of pool ball manufacturers.
The Perfect Shade of Orange
The Excess of Tech
When I visited my cousin’s fiancée, Yufeng, at Google’s Chelsea offices in New York City, I was as intrigued as I was appalled. The excess was evident from the moment the elevator doors slid open to reveal the dining hall. As my cousin and I walked in, we grabbed the plates to our left, which were labeled “steak tartare” and “seitan ratatouille.” I gazed in awe at the high ceilings and exposed brick walls, the glittering view of the Hudson River. I ordered a latté and almond milk smoothie, made a monstrous salad and filled a cup of berries for breakfast the next morning.
Psychedelics as Psychiatry
Dr. James Fadiman graduated from Harvard with a B.A. in psychology and went on to earn an M.A. and Ph.D. from Stanford in the same field. While living in Paris with friend and former professor Richard Alpert (Ram Dass), he was introduced to psilocybin, more commonly known as magic mushrooms, sparking his interest in psychedelics. Fadiman would later pen “The Psychedelic Explorer’s Guide: Safe, Therapeutic and Sacred Journeys,” a de facto Psychedelics for Dummies that highlights the best practices to ensure a positive journey on psychedelics.
What Remains
My mom had bought me new sneakers the day before, and in gym that day, I felt like I was running so fast I wasn’t touching the ground. First grade gym class wasn’t a competition, but I thought it was. And then Mr. Wilson blew the whistle and we gathered in a circle. Something had happened, and our parents were coming to pick us up.
Desert Story
I went to this writer’s paradise when I was 20. I’d been rolling along before that, trying all sorts of things. I was out in the Mojave, sleeping in my car, burning tires at night in the cold, when I saw the sign. It pointed off down a dirt track, white paint, gilt letters. “Writer’s Paradise,” it said. I had to go and see if it lived up to the billing.
...the Call is Heard
What do you live for and what do you die for? These are the only two questions that have mattered to me. They rest beneath every other I have asked. They cannot be separated. When you know what you would live for, you know what you would die for. Through tumultuous transitions, I have grounded myself in this reality. I am alive. I will be dead. I live in light of this, for if I live and love knowing it will end, then I will meet my end having lived and loved.
The Chink in Our Nation
I See the Light
Disconnected, no longer perceiving the world through your own senses, the world gleams brighter, seems more interesting and hums more surreally. You feel the energy of your surroundings as they move you and form brilliant waves, amplifying every process in your mind and dampening the air with a heavy, almost liquid consistency. You zip through the universe atthe speed of light. Lysergic acid diethlamide (LSD) is a psychedelic drug, commonly known as acid, that causes users to experience hallucinations—ones that vary drastically from user to user, and may even affect those with color blindness.
God's Name in Flashing Lights
A month after arriving at Colorado College, first-year Calla Langton conducted an experiment. She started recording what people said to her when she told them she was a Christian. It wasn’t that she had hid her faith before, but she had come to school not thinking she would ever need to tell anyone.
“I decided to just kinda feel it out, like, how would it be if I just brought it up in random conversations, with people I’m not necessarily the best of friends with?” Langton told me. Langton is a sort of Christianity guru at CC – everyone I spoke with directed me back to her, like a compass pointing home.
We Are Not a One-Man Band: A response to “When The Trumpet Sounds”
Having a conversation about race, especially in the United States of America, especially at Colorado College, is like walking a maze of high-altitude tightropes in high heels, back and forth, this way and that, while balancing bowling balls on the tip of your nose and singing “God Save the Queen.” There are so many perspectives to account for, and so many nuances of language.
There is a thin line of politically correct ways of speaking and an even thinner line of politically correct topics. The thinnest line of all, however, is the hairline reserved for permissible speakers, people who are allowed in predesignated spaces to voice their dialogical considerations.
I Am Not a Robot
Here’s a game: One of the following poems was written by a human and the other was generated by a computer. Guess which is which.
Poem #1:
Red flags the reason for pretty flags.
And ribbons.
Ribbons of flags
And wearing material
Reason for wearing material.
Give pleasure.
Can you give me the regions.
The regions and the land.
The regions and wheels.
All wheels are perfect.
Enthusiasm.
Poem #2:
you
are
inscribed
in the
lines on the
ceiling.
you
are
inscribed in
the depths
of
the
storm
Endlings
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.