The reflection pond is going to waste SFU koi have something to say

WRITTEN BY NERCYA KALINO

Duo disaster with Canvas

Dear SFU,

One would think that the reflection pond has a sense of purpose, considering its name. I have never come across such oblivious humans in this concrete confinement I’m obliged to call home. As the oldest fish in this pond, I find it baffling — almost jaw dropping — at how the students in this university seem to be unaware of the purpose of the reflection pond. It’s in the name!

I don’t get that many visitors, you know. No one wants to talk about how they feel, or even just come out and sit in silence looking back at the reflection of their images casted on the serene, still water. I will say this: as I’m getting closer to kicking the bucket, I find that my skills as a master of self-reflection are quite redundant. I didn’t ask for this, you know. I just wanted to be like the rest of the fish with no worries — except for plastics in our waters — but no! I was given this job to listen to a person’s thoughts . . . and when the moon is full, I ought to pray to it as a way of helping. I am special! But what is it good for if none of you brave opening up to me?

And don’t get me started on why the Avocado is a waste of space! Just the most useless statue among the rest. It is ludicrous that everyone is in love with the Avocado. People have reflected more on its existence than they have pondered my glorious presence. I used to wonder what the fuss was all about. One day, out of curiosity, I leapt out of the water and landed on the pavement. Yes, I risked my life to unveil this mystery. I stared hard at the Avocado and thought to myself, “I don’t understand these people — this is pathetic.” Before I knew it, raccoons thought I was dinner and scrambled towards me! Luckily, my old friend, Crow the Might, pushed me back into the water. I was bedridden for weeks before I could comfortably swim again. How I loathe the Avocado. Yet, you would rather stare at that thing and ask each other the least philosophical questions.

Let me tell you who among you is the most perceptive. The daycare children! Every once in a while we hold a festival for them as they walk on by. We gather at the pathway and cheer at the bumbling creatures. The children smile and applaud at our performance! They gather at the edges of the water. Some of them receive insightful foundations of self-consciousness. You can see the glimmer in their eyes when they find themselves within the reflection of the water. We call them the beholden ones. They are my favourite, because they appreciate my existence. You students, on the other hand, leave me speechless. You would think that maybe the professors are not the same. This is true, but not in the way you think. They gossip, I can tell by their laughs. They cackle and snort as they walk around the pond during their breaks. They call it, “Getting some fresh air!” Ha. Here in the pond, we call them chatterboxes. Like a radio, you simply have it on for background noise.

As for you students, we do not have a definite name for you yet. Sometimes, we call you “zombies” because of your eye bags, to others we call, “happy litterers” but that’s a smaller demographic. On good days, we call you strangers because never have we seen you look back at yourself from the pond. Maybe you ought to give it a try. Screw this place.

Diving back into the ocean floor,

An Angry Koi

ILLUSTRATION: Raissa Sourabh / The Peak

SFU’s latest Canvas update has students and profs fighting for their lives. The new feature brings the worst of popular language app Duolingo to motivate the way students study and get their work done. Casey Aoibheann Doyle, a third year Criminology student, can’t take it anymore. If you ask me, her story is not a hoot . . .

Upon opening her laptop, Casey is prompted to say “hello” to Duo, the iconic and notoriously chaotic green Duolingo owl. Duo’s job is to make sure Casey stays on track with her school work. Duo will live on her computer to provide short messages of encouragement and remind her what she has left to do. Casey accepts the terms and conditions of installing the Duolingo x Canvas update and closes her laptop. “Finally, something useful SFU’s decided to spend their money on,” Casey remarks.

The next day, Casey is writing an essay when she decides to take a break and watch videos on YouTube for a few minutes. Little Duo pops up at the corner of her screen blaring “Don’t Start Now” by Dua Lipa, catching Casey off guard. The word “start” is replaced with “stop,” so she jokingly thinks Dua Lipa is reprimanding her for taking a break from the paper. Casey does not care for Duo’s tastes for Dua, really, but wants to be polite. Of course, she is also impatient.

Duo gets halfway through the song before Casey finds a way to cut the music off. She doesn’t particularly care for the song, and Duo looks offended. “Duo is sad . . . but not as sad as Casey will be if she turns off Dua Lipa again! Dua Lipa is Duo’s favourite. Don’t make Duo mad.”

Just like that, Duo disappears into the ether. Casey brushes off the snide comment as a stereotypical reflection of Duo’s love of Dua Lipa. It would be more accurate to say that Duo is obsessed with Dua Lipa. Casey remembers this from TikTok. She makes a mental note to expect more Dua Lipa than she’s ever heard before, so long as Duo’s around.

Casey goes back to her essay and takes another break, this time to scroll through Instagram for a while. A reel from Duolingo’s account comes across her feed featuring Duo dancing to a mashup of Dua Lipa songs. Text that says “Duo is Watching” appears at the end of the reel just before Casey scrolls past it. Duo pops up in the corner of her screen and starts screeching “Prisoner” by Miley Cyrus and Dua Lipa as her phone turns to static. “You’ve barely written anything! Two hours wasted flipping between apps . . . and you don’t even follow Dua Lipa. Duo is watching you . . .”

As quickly as Duo appeared, Casey’s screen went black and Dua Lipa’s version of “Cold Heart” started playing at maximum volume from her laptop. She’s spooked once again by the vague and mysterious presence haunting her. Casey turns the song off and mutes the entire laptop. Casey decides to uninstall the Duolingo x Canvas update because she’s over it and doesn’t like the idea of a cryptic bird stalking her every move.

But before she can hit the “uninstall” button, a low and hazy fog begins to roll into her bedroom. She hears a mishmash of Dua Lipa songs faintly playing in the background. One by one, “One Kiss,” “New Rules,” and “Levitating” all consume and surround Casey in a soundscape of Dua! She searches her room for a way to make it stop. Casey is crouched over with her hands covering her ears and her eyes squeezed shut as a grizzly bear-sized Duo comes crashing into her room, flapping massive green wings at her.

“YOU DISOBEYED DUO! DUO TOLD YOU TO NEVER TURN OFF DUA LIPA AGAIN! DUO WILL MAKE YOU PAY!!”

The volume of the music intensifies as Duo flies through the window in Casey’s room, smashing it to pieces. Casey’s laptop bursts into flames. Now she knows: more important than her assignments is a cultivated love for Dua Lipa (not sponsored.) She will never disobey Duo ever again.

Written by Hannah Kazemi

THE COLLAB NOBODY NEEDED Illustrated by Amanda Eng