Marquis Monarchy Utopia

Sophie Bradecich

Imagine a world where you wake up and you’re shockingly not tired. Your backpack feels light and your commute feels easy. Even the miserable drop-off line happens with no honking and no traffic. You park your car perfectly the first time and head to your first class of the day. This is a universe where everything seems just a little happier, and your classes, a bit more manageable. It’s a universe where Marquis has been crowned as the King of OCSA. 

Over a few short weeks, all of OCSA’s goals have been met. The whole campus has become a serenity center of its own. The grand staircase to the cafeteria both exists and makes sense. The conservatories live in harmony, and the pre-Covid ice cream truck has returned. No students linger in restroom stalls, and tech week is a time of rest and relaxation for all. Everything you love about OCSA is amplified, and any troubles you may have in your personal life have been mysteriously solved. 

Marquis himself already has brilliant ideas for the school under his reign. First order of business: no more Webb. Culinary Arts and Popular Music students alike will thank our ruler for eliminating the block-long trek to the theater. He would move the building to the infamous dirt lot, along with an engineering conservatory. Our king would also form an OCSA Improvisation team, which he would of course captain. It seems so obvious that the performing arts school would have an improv team, but only a brilliant brain like Marquis could be the one to pitch it. 

I imagine our King riding in his royal golf cart, alongside loyal knights: Dr. Lyons, Terren Shaffer, and Mr. Ciecek. Marquis rules with a firm, yet kind hand. Montage! performers serenade you as you walk to class, and you smile at each person you know. They always smile back—Marquis has just made it general law that all acquaintances, no matter how distant, greet each other in the halls. No need for awkwardness or half smiles anymore. Marquis has perfected OCSA. As we all knew he would.