It was dead silent at The Farm. No one but me and the omnipresent sun were seen on the Main Quad, that seemed to have freed itself from the usual student mêlée and now oozed an eery quiet. Was it summer recess that had put campus life on hold? I crossed the quad, hoping to find refuge from the sun in the university’s inner sanctuary, but despite Paoletti’s molten silica on the church’s facade displaying Christ’s welcoming of the righteous to the kingdom of God, the bronze doors were uninvitingly shut. It contrasted sharply with the message I got earlier that day, when entering a bric-à-brac not too far from The Farm. At that time life still seemed Californian happy and sunny. Why had…