Fireworks | Fumitoshi Kato, Dean of the Graduate School of Media and Governance
2020.07.21
I couldn't prepare an avatar. I was standing in front of the Grand Staircase, clad in that bland robot. It seems that when the number of participants exceeds a certain limit, you become a "ghost." I can move around freely, but I wonder if anyone will notice that I'm here on campus like this.
First, I went straight up the stairs and looked at the main stage. Then I took a full tour around the campus. It's quite nice. It's a shame I'm a "ghost," but my spirits gradually started to lift. Today is the annual Tanabata Festival.
For about six years in total (or maybe longer), I worked as a member of the Student Life Committee (SL Committee). In fact, the Tanabata Festival, when viewed from that role, is not all fun and games. I have various exchanges with the students on the executive committee, starting from the preparation stage, about the overall structure, safety and hygiene measures, campus use, communication with exhibitors, and so on. The students must take the lead in planning and executing everything. Delays in preparation, poor planning, inadequate communication. As usual, mishaps occur one after another. Of course, there's no need for confrontation, but I sometimes feel the need to give a little warning. Sometimes, I use harsh words. But in the end, the faculty and staff try to watch over and support the students. Learning is not limited to the classroom; they learn many things using the entire campus. That's the kind of atmosphere that flows here.
On the evening of the Tanabata Festival, the members of the Student Life Committee split into several groups to patrol the campus. Are the food stalls handling fire properly? Have any suspicious objects been left behind? My family gives me a wry smile, wondering if a university professor really does that kind of "night patrol" work. But it's not so bad to walk through the Tanabata Festival just before closing, wearing an armband and holding a flashlight.
When an announcement is made, the cleanup begins in a flurry. They have to proceed with the teardown before the fireworks are launched. We also wait for the fireworks after confirming that the cleanup has started safely. The hardships from preparation to the day of the event dissipate with the fireworks. It's the signal for "the end."
There was still some time. I tried entering a classroom. Inside, familiar desks were lined up, and outside the window, I could see Tanabata decorations withtanzakupaper strips hanging from them. I see, it's well made. The moment I entered the classroom, an icon appeared above my head, and I was no longer a "ghost." Just by having a small icon appear above my head, I felt a strange sensation, as if I had regained my own body. Now, people can notice me.
I exchanged a few words with the new students who were in the classroom. We were supposed to be able to talk with voice chat here, but it didn't work well, so we communicated via text. Even though we were avatars and could have gotten closer, we stood conscious of the distance between us, even in the virtual classroom.
"Where are the professors usually?" I was asked. I was a bit perplexed to be asked something that could be called "common knowledge," but for many new students, it's difficult to understand this campus physically. Each class is conducted online, but to begin with, there's no sense of sharing the campus together. Since this was nearly the first time they had walked around the campus since enrolling, I realized anew the need to introduce things starting from the layout and structure of the buildings.
Right now, experiences like commuting, spending lunch breaks, and after-school hours have been stripped away. Normally, if you walk around campus, you might run into someone. You have a little chat. The wisdom and ingenuity that enrich student life—things about classes, about the campus—are learned through casual chats and conversations with friends. Now, even just meeting someone is not easy.
As the time for the fireworks approached, I cut the chat short and left the room. The spot overlooking Gulliver Pond (Kamoike) is always popular. A lot of avatars had already gathered. Just before the fireworks go up, for a brief moment, it becomes quiet as if everyone is holding their breath in unison. Before long, fireworks were launched along with BGM. This is certainly fireworks. The air that envelops the night, the breathing of the people, the sweat running down my back—the sensations that should be there are missing. But, I was able to watch the fireworks on campus again this year.
Near the front, I could see figures that looked like members of the executive committee wearinghappicoats. I thought about offering them some words of appreciation, but I had become a "ghost" again. A dry sound echoed overhead. I was looking up at the summer night sky, unnoticed by anyone.