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Kronos 60 

Brewster Kahle 
April 2019 

Kronos 60 

Short story by brewster kahle, 2019 

Now running, he had never seen the campus cops get aggressive 
before. Something clicked-- he could now see how it could 
happen, how it was happening to him-- he was questioning, even 
doubting, those he had looked up to, learned from. Now he was 
told to just obey and he didn't like it. 

What had actually happened was pretty tame from what he was 
reading in the papers of what was going on other places, but it 
was something about coming to his campus. 

In the morning, his friends in the dorm had convinced him to 
help prepare for the anti-war protest in the afternoon. This 
meant that he would have to skip work at the campus hotel, call 
in sick or something, which was a transgression he was not 
comfortable with. He was happy with his studies, learning a lot 
and at high speed, but letting his boss down at the hotel, and 
having to lie was outside a Mainer's comfort zone. 

But he let his friends win out, making signs, listening to the 
new music, was more exciting than setting up people's rooms in 
the hotel. Hendrix was his favorite—there was something raw and 
burning that brought it all home to him even though he was in a 
nice green isolated campus in Vermont on a spring day. 

He had read the New York Times in the morning, but he was 
finding the mimeographed underground fliers more riveting, but 
more importantly, more true. But "true" might be overstating 
it--they reported events going on at other campuses in very 
different ways. What was true was starting to be a bit hard to 
figure out. The debates on perspectives and underrepresented 
voices were always understandable but, frankly, a bit abstract 
compared to sitting down and having to reconcile these different 
newspapers when he did not have a god's eye of history to say, 
"oh, yes, I knew it all along, it really happened this way." He 
was just confused. He knew they were not winning the war, but 


what about the kids at the University of Wisconsin-- did the 
cops really let loose on them for doing, well nothing much? Or 
was it actually as insignificant as the small piece implied in 
the New York Times saying some activists were stirring trouble? 
It was these small issues that helped him the most in 
understanding from the confusion, by being confused, about what 
is right or wrong; what is true or exaggerated; how this 
generation could come to question the fabric that had coddled 

So he brought his copy of Electric Ladyland that could now 
legitimately be taken out of the library since last week. He 
loved his turntable in the dorm living room, where he could turn 
it up, maybe a bit too loud. 

He was the self-appointed music aficionado in his dorm and got 
to know the music librarian pretty well. The collection was 
pretty good too, he tried to keep himself to the new-releases 
display and took to reading Rolling Stone and getting into 
waiting for things to be put out, usually on Thursdays. It was 
then that he could take them home and listen there. It was much 
more satisfying to crank it on the hi-fi than sitting in a 
little carrel with headphones on. He liked the suspense of 
waiting for the new releases. 1968 was a good year for music, he 
thought, and it was bringing together his love of music with the 
politics and issues that he was waking up to. His program on the 
campus radio station had gathered more listeners throughout the 
year, and he was given the best slot, after dinner, because he 
would play music but also talk about happenings at other 
campuses that most did not know about. A little bit of context 
never hurt anyone and if he kept it short, got back to the 
music, people seemed to even like his historical banter. 

Some of his friends really got into the movies, putting on 
nightly shows once they got the hang of the projectors. It was a 
bit hit-or-miss since they often had not even seen the movie 
before they put it on for other students. But it all worked out. 

They rarely got to see TV, but they had gathered in the library 
around the small set last week to see the reporting of 


Democratic National Convention in Chicago. A police riot is what 
the underground sheets were saying, but the Chicago Tribute was 
saying it was provocateurs, and maybe foreign ones, that were 
disturbing the peace and not respecting the democratic process. 

"Glad you decided to come, Bryce" said Ava with a mischievous 
smile, "or should I call you 'Moon Child'?" He smiled back, a 
bit awkwardly, somewhat because he was not comfortable with the 
monikers, or nom-de-guerre that some of the others are adopting, 
but mostly because he is feeling guilty about the hotel. 

"Thanks, Ava, I think this will be fun." 

"What did you bring for us today?" she asked looking at the 
colorful cardboard square under his arm. Bryce brightened up. 
"Hendrix came out with a double album that is perfect... perfect 
for the day, but also perfect for me right around now." Ava 
nodded, the deviousness gone, and said, "yes, for me too, I am 
starting to get it, it has taken me a long time." Bryce shot 
back, "Oh, you have always been more accepting of the moment, 
more in the moment than I have been. I think that is because you 
are from the city where the media has always been important to 
you in shaping your world. But up north, we take time in the 
woods and on the sea, and everything seems to be a bit more, you 
know, rooted." "Oh, stop philosophizing and put on the record, 
we have signs to make." 

"Uh, where did you get the paints and cardboard, Ava?" and now 
her smart aleck smile returned. "Oh, the Art teacher is an 
artist herself so she understands if some of the supplies 
disappear, and besides I think she might be coming to the 
protest-- she is into it." Bryce looked a bit puzzled, and 
asked, "are the teachers allowed to come to a protest and one 
that we have not cleared with the administration?" "Allowed?" 

Ava pondered, "hadn't thought of it, yes, I guess she could get 
in trouble." Bryce's expression of "well, yeah" and a bit of 
fear communicated better to Ava what was at stake. They were 
breaking rules, skipping work, stealing supplies. In some 
measure being caught up in the moment, in another measure it was 
wrestling with the issues inside-- they had nothing against the 
college and certainly didn't want to get their Art teacher in 


trouble. "Are you doubting this. Moon Child?" Bryce looked down 
and tried to think of what he wanted on his sign. 

Grateful Dead music poured out of the Kronos College 60 Quad as 
Ava and Bryce entered. Colorful dresses, flowy skirts and 
handmade signs all seemed like a party. The Bronze statue of the 
Founder of Kronos had been given an afro wig and colorful shirt. 
The large letters of the motto on the statue that said "Grow" 
had had a painted addition so it now said, "Grow Free." 

But looking over towards the administration building there was a 
row of men in blue in formation and looking... dangerous, with 
billy clubs across their backs. Bryce and Ava wondered if there 
were that many cops on campus and they looked closely at the 
faces. Bryce said: "That is my boss, Mr. Stills, from the Hotel, 
what is he doing here?" Bryce walked towards him, but there was 
no eye engagement at all. Bryce could not figure out the look in 
his face-- was Mr. Stills happy about being there, or a bit 
afraid of being there? 

The student president started off his speech with a ponderous 
argument against the war, but was drowned out pretty fast with 
chants of "hell no, we won't go" and people rushing the stage. 

He could not even finish his speech and was taken over by a 
disorganized sequence of Buddhist chants, tirades about 
mistreatment of American Indians, and even a Dylan lookalike 
trying to get everyone to sing together. 

A change in tone came abruptly when a tall older man, not a 
student and not from around there, started talking about the 
school and the role it plays in supporting the power structure. 
He launched into it: "How could a college that is focused on 
history, on looking back, when there are big problems to solve. 
THEY said THEY would make a better world, but THEY didn't. Why 
re-learn their mistakes when we need new ideas and action to 
address the future." 


The speaker then pointed at the administration building shouted 
"There, that is where the puppet masters work, that is where the 
real power lies, and lie it does! If we are really going to make 
a change it is not going to be complaining about a distant 
Washington, it will be remaking our school to be relevant." The 
students were starting to get riled and pumping up and down 
their signs. "Now, who is with me? Who will take on the 
administration and take over this campus?" 

And this is when the shouting started. The microphone went dead. 
The students were now a mob with different people calling out 
directions. "On to the administration building!" and the row of 
campus cops, in unison, came to attention. Bryce did not like 
where this was going, but was feeling the crush of students 
goading themselves on towards the cops. 

Bryce, now 20 feet off from the line, made eye contact with Mr 
Stills who looked stern and frightened. Breaking role, Mr. 

Stills shook his head, looked straight at Bryce, and called: 
"Leave. Leave Now. Run." 

And Bryce and Ava ran. They ran out of the Quad and the day 
snapped back into a beautiful spring day, but they were shaken. 
They did not know what to do or where to go, so they went to the 
library, where Bryce always felt safe. 

Collapsed into the chairs in the music section, Bryce and Ava 
did not speak. Carol the librarian came over and smiled in as 
calming of a way as she could. Bryce implored, "Is it always 
this way, does this always happen?". "No, no it is never the 
same. 1968 was a cataclysm and it unfolds differently for 
different classes-- never the same, but always deeply 

In the library, they were allowed to come out of period, see the 
bigger picture, read from the future, and it gave Carol, and all 
librarians, a special role in the student's lives. She 
continued, "Each Kronos College class's 1960s reflects the 


students' real-life backgrounds and their group dynamics-- 
always the 60's but a different slice. Some classes, when they 
get to 1968, they are much more into the hippy thing, the drugs, 
the awakening. There is something about your class that has 
always been attuned to the politics. Even last September, your 

1960 month, your class was completely engaged in the election 
and the buildup of atomic weapons. The Cuban Missile crisis of 

1961 hit you guys very hard, if you remember." 

Bryce and Ava had now caught their breaths, helped by someone to 
pull them out of the intensity in the Quad to put it in some 
perspective. Carol went on, "Your class is asking the right 
questions, though, and really staying in the moment-- this is 
not easy for everyone to do. 1968 was very intense even on small 
college campuses. Compressing 1968 down to one month is a 
headspin that is difficult to take. Assassinations, the draft, 
Saigon... Sometimes I wish we could spend a full year in 1968-- 
there is so much and so many perspectives. Think about villagers 
in Vietnam, student riots in Paris, and later, as the song says 
'4 dead in O-hi-o'". 

"I just hope no one gets hurt out there," Carol mumbled under 
her breath. 

The next morning Bryce went early to the Hotel to apologize, but 
Mr. Stills put him right at ease. He said he understood the 
torment, excitement, and rebellion. "I was a Kronos 60 student 
once, you know, I know 1968, I know it well." Mr. Stills went 
on, "For me, I got caught up and got hurt, not from a billy 
club, but by acting in ways I am not proud of, not proud of to 
this day. But I think I learned a great deal about the times and 
myself. If I could be swept into these things, I can just 
imagine what it was like to be a confused college kid in the 
real 1968-- graduating meant getting drafted. All pretty real." 

Bryce was relieved and thankful, but then looked quizzical-- 
"but you were a cop yesterday..." "Yes," Mr. Stills answered 
slowly, "it is not an easy job, but the school needs us to take 


different ones at different times. It is tough, most of us want 
to be on your side." He paused, "and it is not clear exactly 
where things will go, each year is different. It used to be much 
more student-run, but over the years, or should I say decades, 
we have learned that things can get pretty out of hand." 

"Now please set up your rooms for the incoming visitors, we have 
20 coming for this week, and they bring in a lot of the 
real-life money we need to keep Kronos debt free. We have new 
sets of clothes because we are at the end of 1968 and the 
fashions were widely varying and changing quickly. Most of the 
guests like the hippy garb, and we try to make them look as good 
as we can even though they usually weigh too much. But give them 
the other outfits in their closets, maybe they want to be a 
farmer or plumber instead. Oh, and make sure you change out the 
newspapers, magazines, and records. The joints get hidden in the 
teapot, the visitors are expecting that." 

Bryce and Ava had another month in the 1960s to go. Bryce was 
looking forward to Led Zeppelin's first album. Ava was thinking 
of applying for a job as an assistant Art teacher so she could 
stay-- she liked art nouveau-- so maybe in Kronos 20, but was 
not sure. 

Right now, 1968 was causing their heads to spin. 

Causing them to Grow. Grow Free.