As Queen’s own Nobel Laureate Arthur McDonald splits the $980,000 prize with Japanese scientist Takaaki Kajita, he has pledged to put “at least some” of the money towards reviving the little known Stirling Hall project. Stirling Hall, which is an abbreviation for STudent Induced Rotational Laser and Interferometer Neutrino Gyroscope was first planned in 1962 to push the limits of both science and architecture; mainly by spinning really fast to act as a massive centrifuge/particle accelerator. While some critics are worried this may affect the learning environment, Dr. McDonald assures us that he could have made his neutrino mass discovery in half the time and secured all the prize money for himself. Most experts are saying that future plans to extract rare earth metals by spinning students to death may be inefficient, contrary to the department’s claims it would be “fucking metal.” This discussion, however, ignores the troubled past of the building.
The “forgotten promise” of Stirling Hall isn’t thought of much now, but was actually quite controversial since its inception. Because it was being built on one of the few remaining patches of grass in the lower campus area, it prompted massive outrage from professors, alumni, and students alike who were scared that we would run out of “green space” for dogs and picnics or whatever (all of whom apparently forgot that City Park and all the other 50 parks around campus existed). Protesters got so riled up that they actually held a funeral for what I must remind you is just a patch of lawn, complete with a beautiful eulogy given by a student and everyone singing Oil Thigh as the funeral dirge. The construction of the building was despised more than Donald Trump is by his toupee. (Note: Everything in this paragraph is actually 100% true, all that shit really truly happened. Look it up yourself lazy-ass, Google exists for a reason.)
It goes without saying that a funding crisis ensued shortly after prompting the physics administration to sell off all of their electronic balances in favour of the scales they still use today. The building was unstable; a problem which was solved by adding a swinging pendulum in the middle that’s carefully balanced out all the rotations, a pendulum so precise that if it were knocked the slightest bit of course it could collapse the building. So don’t fucking touch it. There’s a sign and everything, and now I’ve told you too; you’ve got no excuses now.
Various other donation drives were put in place over the years following but only a total of $16.45 was raised over the course of 3 decades (which is like $30 in nowadays money!). The fundraising failure was attributed to the lack of giant concrete support beam to keep track of the funding goals, like of that in the ILC. The faculty eventually resorted to a middle school money-making classic: the good ‘ol bake sale. Students churned out thousands of cookies a day via the use of a homemade nuclear reactor and uranium stolen from Libyan terrorists. Initially successful, most of the funds raised were lost in a class-action lawsuit. Turns out that the radioactive cookies could be legally classified as tanning beds, which is something that the AMS constitution explicitly forbids. (Note: that is also true, see AMS Policy Manual 3, section 30,and yes I’m the kind of person who actually reads this shit)
The most prominent feature of the building is its circular nature, which has often confused students and caused them to lose track of all direction, time, and space (not unlike the maze itself, Mac-Corry). This year alone a record 7 frosh have gotten lost in the basement while trying to find a shortcut from Chernoff Aud, never to be seen again despite extensive manhunts. These properties lead to the building enjoying use as a casino in the mid 1980’s. All the historic telescopes in the centre foyer were placed there in 2005 when the Astronomy program was finally able to upgrade to some binoculars from Giant Tiger on a broomstick.
Estimates vary on how long the revitalize but the University is planning on starting before they’ve secured all the donations they’ll need to finish it, trusting ‘school spirit’ will prompt alumnus to contribute. Preferably to their own program this time. To get a better estimate on the timeline we reached out to Department Head Marc Dignam about the how long the process to revive Stirling would take, to which he replied, “Stirling? You mean this armed and fully operational battlestation?”