Barb is a witness to the fight, to the aftermath, to Steve sitting in the passenger seat of the Chief's truck and lying about his injuries.

She is the sole witness to his first seizure.

He is being weird.

He's been listless and short-tempered all day. He's been clumsy and forgetful, and he is staring.

She had watched him stop and stare. She has seen him pause and stare. She's seen him rub his eyes, shake his head, frown. And stare.

He's been staring at the same spot for five minutes.

She looks behind her to see what has him transfixed and finds nothing. She snaps, "What are you looking at?!"

"Barbara?"

Now she stops. She stares. She matches his frown and asks, "You can see me?"

And then he seizes.

When it stops and he comes to, he cannot see her. He cannot hear her.

She is also the sole witness to his second seizure.

He says awed, "Barb?"

She says, "You're about to have a seizure."

Created in 2000 by R. Hunter Gough and Savant Garde (website is dead, unsurprisingly), this game is for 3 - 5 players age 15+, subtitled "The Most Pretentious Card Game Ever Made" and the back of the box reads:

"Gother Than Thou is a new card game of backstabbing and betrayal set within the gothic community.

Cloves, Absinthe, Eyeliner, Boots. Everything you need to make it big on the scene is here, but so are Dire Fashion Blunders, Infections, Debt, and the dreaded Visit From Mom.

Will you be the first to achieve 20 Goth Points and declare yourself Gother Than Thou? Or will you fall into sickness and debt, wallowing in your own misery?"

Ancient Egyptian DooDad, Wardrobe Sale, card backs, Absinthe Minded. . ., Disturbing Southern Accent, Pet Named Hecate, Blue Black #124

I have never had enough IRL goth friends to play this and have it be fun/ny, though I think we must have played it at a Convergence in that era (C7? C9?--those were ones I attended in the 'Aughties).

This must have sprung from the Usenet groups alt.gothic and/or alt.gothic.fashion, given the date of creation and many of the references. Minus a billion Goth Points to me for not remembering where this came from or where I bought it/how I got it.

Deep Newsgroup Posts, Up Before Noon, That Wasted Look, Fun With Eyeliner, Boots!!, Genital Piercings, Steady Clove Supply, Dire Fashion Blunder, Face Like Murphy, Visit from Mom (you gain money but lose Goth Points for that last card LOL)

for @corrodedcoffinfest

Prompt Day 17: Answering Machine | Word Count: 1000 | Rating: G | CW: None | POV: omniscent | Pairing(s): implied steddie | Tags: told entirely through answering machine messages, corroded coffin love to gossip, steve and eddie meet at the fateful halloween party au

November 1st, 1984 – 09:48 

“Um. Shit. Wasn’t expecting the machine. Hey Harrington. It’s Ed–Munson. Um. Hopefully your parents don’t listen to this, but I think you said they were away right? Um, anyway, I just wanted to, I dunno, make sure you’re okay? Break-ups suck. If you ever need someone to hang out with again–nevermind, of course you don’t need any loser friends. Anyway, yeah, hope you’re okay, don’t, uh, don’t feel like you have to call me back or anything. See ya.” 

Wanting something requires dopamine signaling, but liking something doesn’t.

If you have a mental illness/disorder that affects dopamine, you might feel that you don’t want to do the things that you like. You do still like them. You will appreciate having done them.

Let your likes guide you.

(If you want to read more, here’s one experimental paper about it. https://pmc.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/articles/PMC5171207/ This theory called the incentive-sensitization theory was originally created to explain behaviors in addiction but can be applied elsewhere as well)

So, Westley has been through a LOT of unpleasant shit to get back and has just found out that his true love has moved on to become engaged to their local prince. He's confused. He's really pissed off. He misses whatever opportunity allowed him to follow Buttercup on her daily ride (didn't see her ride out, didn't hear about it, whatever), because he's following another opportunity into the castle to investigate Humperdinck. Or else he sees Humperdinck and Rugen riding off towards the Pit of Despair together and decides to follow them instead. Either way, Westley overhears the two men very casually discussing Humperdinck's beautiful but forcibly gained fiancée and the kidnapping plot currently underway, and Westley realizes that Buttercup is about to DIE and he's very likely not going to be able to reach his true love in time. He still runs off, desperate and ready to die trying to save her.

And Westley is really much to late to cross the water and climb the Cliffs of Insanity and all that, because Buttercup and her kidnappers are already at the border with Guilder. It's fine though, because when Fezzik and Inigo are confronted with the murder part of the job, they object, and Fezzik ultimately decides that he's really not cool with it. Fezzik thumps Vizzini over the head while Vizzini is berating Inigo. Fezzik apologizes to Buttercup. Inigo looks at the unconscious (possibly dead, heavily concussed at least) Vizzini, shrugs, and then helps Fezzik untie Buttercup and apologizes as well.

It's more than a little awkward, because none of them really know what to do besides wander vaguely back towards Florin. Buttercup admits that she doesn't really want to marry the prince, and he'll find her if she goes back to the farm, which leads into her telling the story of her dead true love, which Inigo and Fezzik find very romantic. Which leads into Fezzik and Inigo both sharing their own tragic backstories in turn. Buttercup is personally very intrigued by Inigo's mention of being in the revenge business.

And then Buttercup goes, "Wait a moment, I know a nobleman like that. Count Rugen is Prince Humperdinck's closest friend and confidant, and he has six fingers on his right hand. I once had to sit next to them at a dinner table while they spent over an hour discussing all the troubles of finding a good glovemaker and skincare for their hands." (Rugen and his wife also once visited Buttercup and Westley's farm when they were younger, but Buttercup would more recently know Rugen from just... around the castle. Rugen is presumably going to be Humperdinck's best man.)

So, Westley is like, "Where the HELL is the love of my life???" presumably harrassing Vizzini about it if Vizzini is still alive. And Humperdinck has his theatric rescue party together to find Buttercup's body on the border, unknowingly following behind a rushing and frantic Westley, trying to keep his lies straight while he's internally like, "What the HELL happened to my kidnapping and murder plot to incite a war??? Rugen, I thought you hired the best??? It's so hard to find good help these days!"

Meanwhile, Buttercup, Fezzik, and Inigo are on a new friendship quest back to Count Rugen's house. Buttercup is the future princess, and so is presumably already acquainted with Rugen's young and beautiful wife, who has to let her in and be a good hostess. The Countess is warily like, "Buttercup... Who are these unkempt and intimidating men...?"

“When he died the ravens sat in the trees outside for a week, watching. Taking turns. A horde of raccoons tried to break into the house every night, tearing at the siding. Eventually they gave up, but it was unsettling.”

From now on, no matter what happens, if you want to punch me in the face or spit in my mouth while I’m asleep, it doesn’t matter. I’m always going to be watching your back.

When I asked why, a student answered honestly: It was too long, and she kept losing track of what the paper was about. This was not a remedial class: These were students who had cleared the admissions process and written essays good enough to get them here. Yet a routine academic reading assignment had defeated them.

Every generation of professors has complained that their students cannot read. The lament is usually overblown, but data have caught up to anecdote, and what I am seeing in my classroom is no longer a hunch. There is a measurable, generational collapse in sustained reading and writing, and the academy is responding to it with improvisation and exhaustion rather than the structural overhaul it requires.

In February 2024, Adam Kotsko, who teaches in the Shimer Great Books School at North Central College, wrote in Slate that students who once handled 30 pages of reading per class meeting now seem “intimidated by anything over 10 pages and seem to walk away from readings of as little as 20 pages with no real understanding.” Crucially, he added that this is “not a matter of laziness on the part of the students” but of underlying skills they were never given a chance to build.

The Chronicle of Higher Education’s 2024 investigation found the same pattern across institutions as different as the Stevens Institute of Technology and Wellesley College, where the average SAT exceeds 1400. Nicholaus Gutierrez, an assistant professor at Wellesley, told The Chronicle that the baseline for what students consider a reasonable amount of work has dropped so noticeably that he has cut his readings accordingly; a 750-word essay now strikes many students as long. At Stevens, the science and technology studies associate professor Theresa MacPhail described following the mantra of “meet your students where they are” for so long that she has begun to feel “like a cruise director organizing games of shuffleboard.”

Worse, the national data tell the same story in colder language. On the 2011 National Assessment of Educational Progress (NAEP) writing assessment, which is the most recent comprehensive writing benchmark, only 24 percent of 12th graders reached the Proficient level, and just 3 percent reached Advanced; another 21 percent scored below Basic. The reading side of the ledger is worse, and getting worse fast: The 2024 NAEP results released in September 2025 show 12th-grade reading scores at the lowest level recorded since the assessment began in 1992. Thirty-two percent of 12th graders now score below NAEP Basic in reading, meaning that, in the assessment’s own language, they likely “cannot draw general conclusions based on concepts presented explicitly in a text.” And yet more than half of these same seniors reported being accepted to a four-year college. That last sentence is the whole problem in one line: We are admitting a cohort that cannot read at a college level and are pretending otherwise.

Why is this happening? One reason, of course, is smartphones.

I came into teaching as a skeptic of the anti-smartphone argument: I had a phone in my pocket throughout high school and college in the 2010s, and I read long books anyway. I now think I was wrong, because the neuroscience has caught up. In a 2017 paper, Adrian F. Ward and colleagues at the University of Texas at Austin’s McCombs School of Business showed that the mere presence of a participant’s smartphone — whether that be face down, powered off, untouched, or across the desk out of vision — measurably reduces available working memory and fluid intelligence on cognitive tests, with the largest effects on the most phone-dependent users. A 2022 study by Motoyasu Honma and colleagues at Japan’s Showa University used near-infrared spectroscopy to compare reading on a smartphone with reading the same passage on paper, and found that smartphone reading produced overactivity in the prefrontal cortex, suppressed sigh generation, and led to general lower comprehension scores; the authors argued that the sigh inhibition and prefrontal overload were causally linked to the comprehension decline.

So when a student tells me they “kept losing track” of a 20-page article, I have to acknowledge that they may be describing a measurable neurological condition. The neural pathways that support sustained attention are built by use, and they atrophy without it. Your body is a use-it-or-lose-it system, and the brain is no exception.

Another reason for the decline in student reading capability is increasing reliance on generative AI. In June 2025, Nataliya Kosmyna and colleagues at the MIT Media Lab released a preprint titled “Your Brain on ChatGPT.” They divided 54 participants into three groups writing SAT-style essays — one using ChatGPT, the second group using a search engine, the last group using nothing — and monitored brain activity with a 32-channel EEG. The ChatGPT group showed the lowest neural connectivity of the three, with up to 55 percent reduced connectivity compared with the brain-only group, and “consistently underperformed at neural, linguistic, and behavioral levels.” Eighty-three percent of LLM users could not quote a single line from essays they had written minutes earlier. When the LLM group was forced to write without AI in a follow-up session, their brain activity did not bounce back to baseline; the researchers coined the term “cognitive debt” for the lingering deficit.

This is the first neurophysiological evidence that early reliance on LLMs measurably alters the brain’s engagement with writing tasks, and it is consistent with what those of us in front of classrooms are watching happen in real time. When I assign analysis, I am not trying to extract a polished product; I am trying to put the student’s mind through resistance in order to make it stronger. Offloading the struggle to a chatbot does not “free students up for higher-order work.” It deprives them of building the strength to do any substantial cognitive work at all.

There is a final factor that is contributing to this decline in reading skills, and that is that the students arriving in my classroom today are the first cohort to have experienced Common Core-influenced reading instruction across the entirety of their K–12 schooling. Whatever the standards’ original intent, the on-the-ground implementation in many districts replaced sustained reading with the practice of pulling “evidence” from disconnected short passages, the same format used on the standardized tests that increasingly determine school funding. The education scholar Natalie Wexler, among others, has documented this pivot in detail: Students drilled on “finding the main idea” in two-paragraph excerpts never build the stamina or background knowledge that longform reading requires. The pandemic then added fuel to a fire that was already burning. NAEP scores for 13-year-olds dropped sharply in 2022 and have not recovered. A 2023 EdWeek survey found that 24 percent of secondary-school administrators described pandemic learning loss in English and language arts as “severe or very severe.”

In July 2025, the journalist Mary Harrington argued in The New York Times that “thinking is becoming a luxury good.” The ability to read deeply and reason at length is fragmenting along class lines as ultra-processed digital media replaces text in everyday life, much as ultra-processed food has replaced cooking. Her longer treatment of the subject in First Things makes the more provocative case that we are witnessing the end of print culture itself, and with it the end of the cognitive substrate on which modern liberal democracy was built.

I see this stratification in the classroom and on the page every week. My students from districts that protected sustained reading through small class sizes, strict phone policies, and faculty who refused to teach to the test all arrive with their attention relatively intact. My students from districts that surrendered to devices and standardized testing arrive cognitively winded. A democracy that requires a literate electorate is now training one fraction of that electorate out of literacy while marketing to the other a “deep work” lifestyle as a luxury good. The students who cannot read a 20-page article today are the voters who will not be able to read a bill, or the jurors who cannot follow a closing argument, tomorrow.

I do what I can in my own classroom to address the problems. I break 20-page articles into two halves and assign the first half with explicit analytical tasks. I require exploratory writing before formal drafts. I model (visibly, on the board) how to track an argument across pages or distinguish a source’s claim from my own analysis. I make structured peer review explicit, because the workshop format I used to take for granted now collapses into “this is good” and “maybe add more details” the moment I step back.

But I want to be plain about the limits of what an individual instructor can do, and all of these solutions have costs. Scaffolding a 20-page article into halves compromises the integrity of the argument I am asking students to engage, just as modeling note-taking in a credit-bearing rhetoric course is using a college slot to teach a middle-school skill. None of the syllabi I teach are designed to deliver this type of cognitive rehabilitation, and pretending otherwise has produced credential inflation. We cannot keep conferring degrees on students who cannot do what the degree is supposed to certify.

I’m afraid I don’t have answers. I do, however, have some questions that may point us in the right direction. If higher education is going to respond to the reading crisis as a structural problem rather than a private burden carried by composition instructors and adjuncts, it has to stop avoiding the following questions: If a majority of incoming students cannot read at a level the curriculum requires, are we admitting students we cannot serve, or offering a curriculum we cannot provide?

Why are first-year writing and reading-intensive general-education courses still the most adjunctified, lowest-paid, highest-load corner of the university, at the precise moment when their work has become the most important work the institution does? What is the responsible institutional response for AI usage: Is it a syllabus statement, or a sequencing principle that requires students to demonstrate the cognitive work themselves before AI assistance is permitted?

Why are most college classrooms still phone-permissive by default? K–12 districts from Florida to California are now banning phones bell to bell; higher education has somehow lagged behind the public schools. Universities benefit from a pipeline they did not build and refuse to repair. What would it mean for a university system to invest seriously in the reading instruction happening in the high schools that feed it, rather than treating remediation as something to be quietly outsourced to first-year composition instructors?

The thing I am no longer willing to do is pretend this is a temporary adjustment period, or that “students will adapt.” They will not adapt on their own. The conditions that produced this collapse are still in place: the phones, the algorithmic feeds, the test-prep excerpts, staffing models that load the reading-intensive work onto the most precarious faculty, and now the chatbots that finish students’ sentences before they’ve even begun to think of them. If we want literate citizens, we will have to rebuild the conditions for literacy deliberately, against the grain of every incentive currently pointed the other way. I know the academy has the will to do that. It also has the obligation."

— Tyler Jagt, 1 June 2026, "My Students Can’t Read"