
The whole structure buckling in the exact second you needed it to hold.
You've been refreshing the portal since 6:59, adrenaline stacked on top of caffeine, and the second your registration window finally opens the whole site buckles under everyone doing the exact same thing at once. This is the Tower's lightning strike, dressed up as a server error — the structure you were counting on failing at the worst possible instant, no warning, no seat saved for you in the meantime.
There's nothing you could've done differently; the crash was baked into the system before you ever opened the tab. The Tower doesn't ask if you're ready. It falls, and the only real choice left is what you do in the minutes right after it does.
what may cross your path
The tower fell. I'm still standing in the rubble, and I can rebuild.
By the time the page finally loads, the seat's long gone, and what's left assembling itself is a schedule built from whatever survived — four gen eds, a 4pm Friday lab nobody wanted, a professor you've never heard of and can't find on RateMyProfessor. The Tower's aftermath isn't the crash itself; it's the version of your semester you get stuck constructing out of what's left standing.
This is the part nobody warns you about: after the lightning, there's still a semester to build, just with worse materials than you planned for. It's not the plan you wanted, but it's not permanent either — waitlists move, and override forms exist for exactly this.
what may cross your path
The plan broke. I can still build a good semester from the pieces.