By Thulashigan Sreeharan

The Jugular is committed to providing up-to-date news during these uncertain times. UNSW is now seven days into lockdown, and as Wally looks emptier than most MedSoc council meetings, we decided to do some House style sleuthing into what our students are up to. Our finest reporter snuck into the bedroom of Karuna Singh, a second-year medical student. Hiding places were not hard to find, as there was a massive load of unwashed clothes lying next to the unopened blinds.

***Below we deliver the unfiltered, minute-by-minute observations of our intrepid sleuth***

“Alright doors closed, volume down, moisturiser and box of tissues, all check…” Karuna whispers excitedly, clattering away at his keyboard.

He is about to begin his K-beauty routine. Before starting, he switches back to the other browser tab, where he is confronted by the competing squawks of College B, in its entirety,  video-conferencing a single SG session. They are greeted by dog barks and baby cries; it seems a facilitator is getting ready. The first words are uttered in a mysterious, booming voice…

“Why isn’t the bloody thing working!” Suddenly, a face pops up, zoomed to the forehead and with a brow furrowed in confusion.

“I have no idea what to do, but let’s improvise the next two hours.”  There are no replies.

“Facilitators, can you hear me? This is a private discussion,” the voice continues. Karuna is now sniggering.

A reply pops up on chat – the students can hear you. Of course, it’s Karen, always knowing how to ruin the fun.

SG begins and the first half hour passes uneventfully, as the resident Hermione Granger makes it her priority to answer every question asked. Much to her annoyance, the facilitator starts picking names from the roll. 

“!Khwe” the facilitator yells out, mistaking the click in his name for an exclamation. There is no response. Karuna is already on step eight of his routine, head well-rested and donning a face mask. 

“Alright… Karuna, what’s the answer for question 3?”

Heart thumping and sweat dripping, Karuna looks frantically for the Google Doc, which supposedly holds answers. “Karuna?” the voice echoes. He makes up an excuse about his microphone not working, scrolling through the multiple “I can’t hear you” messages to find the link. The Doc, however, ends up being useless, rather a collection of memes and love letters by his bored compatriots. He must say something, but what?

A minute of silence turns into two, then three. Awkwardness hangs in the air, accompanied by the heavy breathing of those unfortunate souls who haven’t realised their mic was still on.

“The toe…?” he finally answers, uncertainty dripping from his words.

“You’re most likely to find TB in the patient’s toe?” The facilitator bursts out laughing.

As his head sinks into the table from embarrassment, our reporter silently leaves, taking advantage of a half-open window and conveniently placed drainpipe. 

If the coronavirus assault continues at UNSW, what further agony will lie ahead for these unsuspecting students?

Leave a Reply