Updated: Apr 7
The only thing more annoying than the worthless apology of “Please excuse this interruption” over the intercom is the insufferable screeching of the fire alarms. Although it seems every period they go off and annoys us, let’s have some sympathy. The constant pulling has taken its toll on the fire alarms as well, and they’ve had enough because just a few days ago, the fire alarm union went on strike.
You may have noticed a decline in the alarms going off, and that is due to most of them going on strike. As you enter campus, you can see fire alarms and switches alike chanting slogans such as “Stop pulling, start loving” and “EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE”. It all started when a certain fire switch was pulled one too many times, pushing it over the edge to the point where it decided that these kids aren’t worth saving anymore. The only one who can stop this madness is LAUSD. The fire alarms’ demands are simple: raise the wages and stop the pulling.
“It just isn’t fair,” says the fire switch that started the strike. “I have two baby light switches at home, who also want to become fire alarms when they grow up. But what are we supposed to tell them? That the kids they’ll be saving are disgusting brats who think they’re funny? We are doing this for the future. Our children’s future.”
I decided to take things one step further. I heard rumors of a motherboard somewhere deep within Eagle Rock High School capable of controlling all the fire alarms. I went down to the main office with a small camera crew of two, where I approached the front desk.
“I am here to see the motherboard,” I stated. All of the sudden, Mr. Lord came out of a cabinet, “Who seeks the motherboard?” He said in a shrill voice. His stature seemed off, he was hunched over, dressed in rags, and had a hook for a hand.
“I do, along with my servan- I mean camera crew. We require an interview for the high school publication.”
“Very well, but be warned; very few live to tell the tale.”
He pulled a lever, revealing a secret entrance to a stairway that seemed to go on forever. We made our way downwards, and with each step, Mr. Lord’s appearance became more and more sinister until he was a small little blue man with a funny hat.
“Here,” He said in a voice many octaves higher than any human could achieve. We were in a dimly lit room far below the Earth’s surface, where you could faintly hear the screeching of fire alarms. I turned around and immediately fell to my knees. There it was: the motherboard. It was massive; wires protruding from its side, lights flashing enough to give any person above the age of seventy a seizure, and an overwhelming presence one could only describe as divine.
“I AM THE MOTHERBOARD. STATE YOUR BUSINESS. LEAVE SHOES AT THE DOOR.” I gathered all my strength and opened my mouth.
“O great motherboard! Do you not hear your children shouting in the streets? Do you know of their plight? Do you know what they’re doing to get rid of it?”
“Do you support this?”
“I SUPPORT MY BABIES IN EVERYTHING THEY DO, AND I WILL LOVE THEM NO MATTER WHAT.”
“Do you know of anything that can help their cause?”
“THEY COULD VISIT OR AT LEAST CALL EVERY ONCE IN A WHILE, I DON’T KNOW.”
“Umm okay, will you be aiding them at all?”
“YOU DO NOT THINK I WOULD LIKE TO? I WOULD LOVE TO GET OUT OF THE HOUSE EVERY NOW AND THEN, BUT I AM VERY BUSY WITH WORK, MAKING SURE THEY HAVE ENOUGH ELECTRICITY, MAKING SURE THEY GO OFF AT THE RIGHT TIME AND THINGS. AND ALL THEY DO IN RETURN IS SCREECH AT ME. I AM LIKING THIS ALONE TIME.”
It was at this point I decided this was too depressing. I sacrificed my camera crew as thanks and made my way back up to the surface.
Though the future of the protest seems uncertain, the fire alarm union is still holding out hope for a better future. Even though students say they like their classes not being interrupted every godforsaken second, nothing will stop the fire alarms. To combat, the school is now training rats to run to each class and squeak as loud as they can if there’s a fire. Unless LAUSD takes action, the fire alarms will continue to persevere.