You find the place called Grind Central, and it makes a strong first impression: the $1000 illuminated sign over the entrance has an over-stylized cup of coffee on it. "Grind Central"-- a nifty title, just the sort of thing the kids go for these days-- is written in some sort of pseudo-Do The Right Thingscript, and the whole effect is one of strained obsequiousness. It appeals to you for some reason.

 Unfortunately, Grind Central doesn't live up to the promise of its name. It looks like a museum exhibit of a "20th century living room," except for the low, industrial ceiling and bar at the end. A bored barkeep plays scrabble with two bored friends, and that's all the activity in the room.

 You belly up to the bar and order a daiquiri. They spend 10 minutes trying to find a price before they discover they don't have liquor license. You order a Shirley Temple. One of them says to you, "Look, mister, you can order anything you want as long as it's some kind of coffee."

 "What's the story with this place? Isn't this where student life is?" you can't help but ask.

 "Yeah, right. Listen, Grind Central was a weak attempt at a student coffee house. It was Mike Dennis's baby. It got him the job of Business Manager, ya know. So maybe he knows something the rest of us students here don't."

 "Well," you look around, "It looks like a nice place to relax and get away from people."

 "I know. It is," the kid says bitterly.^A

 "I'm searching for student life here. Know where I can find it?"

 "Follow me upstairs. There's this place called Tilton that often has people hanging around in it."

Follow the kid to page 11.