It’s August 21, 2028. The Vice President for Academic Compliance pulls into their reserved parking spot. The former EV charger location has been torn out to expand parking for compliance officers—these state-appointed roles now have visible and adequate parking placement. They enter the administration building, once the faculty office building, which now houses the Academic Compliance and Information Technology and Surveillance departments.
Among those who survived the federal academic takeover is the former Elementary Education Department Chair, now an instructor in Patriotic Pedagogy. She walks to her first class, noting that in the old days she would have had an office. Now, only classroom assignments remain. There is no appetite for the gathering of academics, and certainly not in rooms where doors can be closed for private conversation. Instructors received their syllabi three weeks ago from the VP for Academic Compliance. On receipt, they must sign a letter indicating they will comply with both the letter and the spirit of the syllabus.
The Patriotic Pedagogy instructor hates her job, but without it, she has no income. Her partner, a former biomedical researcher, lost his lab when federal grants were pulled. For the last eight months, he’s been driving for a ride share service. It’s been excruciating.
She notices that the campus is eerily quiet on the first day of classes, but not for lack of students. It’s the silence of apprehension, as if the entire community is holding its breath. Federal student loan programs have been dismantled, replaced by a patchwork of state-run alternatives and private lenders that leave families scrambling to afford tuition. The campus has become a significantly less interesting place, lacking the socio-economic and racial variety it once had. (She no longer even thinks of the word “diversity” because it’s too dangerous.) With income-based repayment and public service loan forgiveness a distant memory, the financial burden falls squarely on students and their parents…much to the glee of lenders.
The approved syllabi mean the curriculum has been gutted. Gone are the robust discussions of American history that once grappled with the complexities of slavery, civil rights, and systemic injustice. In their place, a sanitized version of the past is taught, one that emphasizes “American exceptionalism” and erases the nation’s darker chapters. Critical race theory, feminist studies, and LGBTQ+ scholarship have been purged from the syllabus, labeled as “divisive” and contrary to the interests of the state. Faculty who once enjoyed academic freedom and tenure now find themselves under constant surveillance, their implementation of mandated lesson plans scrutinized for any hint of dissent. A member of the Vice President for Academic Compliance staff enters classrooms without warning and, using a tablet, evaluates teaching in real time.
Students are well aware of the mood on campus, and some have weaponized it. Several instructors and staff have been dismissed following baseless student accusations of subversive teaching, particularly for encouraging critical thinking. The student body itself is less diverse. Title IX protections for LGBTQ+ students and women have been dismantled, with campuses now required to define gender as male and female. Some institutions have gone further, capping enrollment to ensure men receive 55% of class seats and even more of the financial aid. When challenged, the new interpretation of Title IX was upheld by SCOTUS, leaving many feeling unsafe and unwelcome. Most LGBTQ+ scholars have become international students abroad, in nations where they are safe. There have been no international students enrolled at the college for more than three years. Not that she wants to relive the deportations or the angry town halls where manipulated residents and local politicians accused international students of espionage and criminal activity—no such accusations were ever substantiated.
Bulletin boards and video screens that once advertised DEI initiatives, musical performances, and community events have been replaced by state-approved messages promoting “intellectual diversity”—a euphemism for ideological conformity. Social events are designed to encourage pairing of men and women, and students celebrate ring ceremonies and marriages after graduation. Women are provided with annual exams where they are encouraged to procreate for patriotism.
Academic vigor is nothing to be proud of. The accreditation system, once a safeguard for academic quality, has been handed over to politically appointed state officials. Universities that once stood as bastions of free inquiry are now at the mercy of governors eager to punish institutions that stray from the party line. As a result, the campus has become an uninspired place for those seeking to expand their minds and learn. It’s basically an indoctrination camp, and the instructor hates herself for being there. But she, like others, is in fear.
As the first lecture begins, the instructor hesitates before speaking. Sighing audibly, she loads up the approved slide deck.
As the instructor clicks through the first slide, she glances out the window at the empty campus, remembering when this place buzzed with debate, laughter, and the energy of a thousand minds colliding. Now, the only sound is the hum of surveillance equipment and the occasional footstep of a compliance officer. The VP for Academic Compliance watches from the monitor at their desk, satisfied that the new academic order is in place. The campus may look the same, but its soul has been hollowed out—everyone is just going through the motions, afraid to speak, afraid to think, afraid to be anything but compliant. And so, on this quiet August morning, the university stands as a monument not to learning, but to fear—a far cry from the vibrant institution it once was.
Laura, this gives the vibe of what was happening at the University of Gilead - Boston campus while June and the other Handmaids were plotting out their rebellion