Student finds COVID-19 vaccine in time spent not commuting to class

A fourth-year Ryerson biochemistry student has created a COVID-19 vaccine in the basement of her parents’ home in Mississauga, Ont., after months without an hour and a half commute downtown every day.

The student, Onda Treighn, said developing the vaccine was “lowkey an accident.”

“It all started when the news about schools transitioning to remote learning came out in March,” Treighn said, pausing for effect and looking off into the top right corner of her screen during a Zoom interview.

When she heard other universities were moving online amid the pandemic, Treighn wasn’t sure how she’d be able to complete her assignments.

“I’ve always tried catching up on my readings or assignments on the GO Train, but I usually end up sleeping or watching episodes of Grey’s Anatomy,” said Treighn.

Treighn worked most efficiently in the grungy science corridor of Kerr Hall—with its musty fumes, flickering iridescent light bulbs and mysteriously half-eaten ham and cheese sandwich sitting next to the “No Eating” sign.

Last semester, Treighn had early morning classes and late-night labs every day of the week. Although she was spending a lot of time on campus, she spent even more time trying to get to campus—and that’s without including the daily “surprise” delays during rush hour.

“It’s never a good sign when you hear the PA come on while riding the subway. You can’t hear what the operator is saying at all, but you know it’s never good news,” she said.

Realizing Ryerson might move online, Treighn was ecstatic that she wouldn’t have to take public transit anymore. “No more sitting next to the weird smelly guy on the subway who likes to brush his leg up against mine hoping I’ll have sex with him right then and there!”

She soon realized she wouldn’t have access to all of the equipment she would need for her assignments, so she came up with a fool-proof and totally legal plan that she’s surprised she didn’t come up with sooner.

At the end of every class, Onda discreetly put everything from beakers to microscopes into her wheely backpack and rolled out of the room. “No one ever comes near anyone with a wheely backpack,” she said.

Her professor, Rufus T. Molératt, said he noticed some missing equipment, but didn’t think too much of it because he was busy coming up with the best way to tell his students they’re on their own for the remainder of the semester.

“I’m 75 years old,” Molératt said. “The only place I should be ‘Zooming’ to is the retirement home, or the Bingo hall for the ‘Wednesday night Senior Special.’”

Treighn mentioned that by the time Ryerson announced classes were online, she “basically had [her] own meth lab” set up in her parents’ basement. “But not for meth; for school. I swear.”

It turned out that most of Onda’s assignments didn’t require her to use the equipment. Since campus has been closed since March, she hasn’t been able to return anything either.

“I could always get downtown and let security know I have things I need to drop off, but that would require me to refill my Presto card and that’s a no from me,” she said.

After months of Netflix and baking sourdough, Treighn decided to put her Presto credit where her mouth is and finally do something with her life.

“I actually started reading the required texts for my classes, not just Command+F-ing the doc and finding keywords,” she said. “From there, I learned the steps to developing a vaccine for SARS-CoV-2.”

Soon enough, Treighn started cooking it up in the kitchen (meth lab), creating a vaccine to defeat the ferocious “Miss Rona.”

“Of course Miss Rona is female. No man would stay this long in anybody’s life,” she said. Treighn said the concoction for the vaccine included something obtuse, a rubber goose, a green moose, a cup of guava juice, a giant snake, a slice of birthday cake, large fries and other ingredients she couldn’t disclose. Treighn noted that the vaccine doesn’t include any cleaning products, despite what U.S. President Donald Trump would have you believe.

The next step was the clinical trials, which the Treighn family excitedly volunteered for. “She’s been doing this stuff in school for three years, right? What could ever go wrong?” said Treighn’s mother.

A fourth-year Ryerson biochemistry student has created a COVID-19 vaccine in the basement of her parents’ home in Mississauga, Ont., after months without an hour and a half commute downtown every day.

The student, Onda Treighn, said developing the vaccine was “lowkey an accident.”

“It all started when the news about schools transitioning to remote learning came out in March,” Treighn said, pausing for effect and looking off into the top right corner of her screen during a Zoom interview.

When she heard other universities were moving online amid the pandemic, Treighn wasn’t sure how she’d be able to complete her assignments.

“I’ve always tried catching up on my readings or assignments on the GO Train, but I usually end up sleeping or watching episodes of Grey’s Anatomy,” said Treighn.

Treighn worked most efficiently in the grungy science corridor of Kerr Hall—with its musty fumes, flickering iridescent light bulbs and mysteriously half-eaten ham and cheese sandwich sitting next to the “No Eating” sign.

Last semester, Treighn had early morning classes and late-night labs every day of the week. Although she was spending a lot of time on campus, she spent even more time trying to get to campus—and that’s without including the daily “surprise” delays during rush hour.

“It’s never a good sign when you hear the PA come on while riding the subway. You can’t hear what the operator is saying at all, but you know it’s never good news,” she said.

Realizing Ryerson might move online, Treighn was ecstatic that she wouldn’t have to take public transit anymore. “No more sitting next to the weird smelly guy on the subway who likes to brush his leg up against mine hoping I’ll have sex with him right then and there!”

She soon realized she wouldn’t have access to all of the equipment she would need for her assignments, so she came up with a fool-proof and totally legal plan that she’s surprised she didn’t come up with sooner.

At the end of every class, Onda discreetly put everything from beakers to microscopes into her wheely backpack and rolled out of the room. “No one ever comes near anyone with a wheely backpack,” she said.

Her professor, Rufus T. Molératt, said he noticed some missing equipment, but didn’t think too much of it because he was busy coming up with the best way to tell his students they’re on their own for the remainder of the semester.

“I’m 75 years old,” Molératt said. “The only place I should be ‘Zooming’ to is the retirement home, or the Bingo hall for the ‘Wednesday night Senior Special.’”

Treighn mentioned that by the time Ryerson announced classes were online, she “basically had [her] own meth lab” set up in her parents’ basement. “But not for meth; for school. I swear.”

It turned out that most of Onda’s assignments didn’t require her to use the equipment. Since campus has been closed since March, she hasn’t been able to return anything either.

“I could always get downtown and let security know I have things I need to drop off, but that would require me to refill my Presto card and that’s a no from me,” she said.

After months of Netflix and baking sourdough, Treighn decided to put her Presto credit where her mouth is and finally do something with her life.

“I actually started reading the required texts for my classes, not just Command+F-ing the doc and finding keywords,” she said. “From there, I learned the steps to developing a vaccine for SARS-CoV-2.”

Soon enough, Treighn started cooking it up in the kitchen (meth lab), creating a vaccine to defeat the ferocious “Miss Rona.”

“Of course Miss Rona is female. No man would stay this long in anybody’s life,” she said. Treighn said the concoction for the vaccine included something obtuse, a rubber goose, a green moose, a cup of guava juice, a giant snake, a slice of birthday cake, large fries and other ingredients she couldn’t disclose. Treighn noted that the vaccine doesn’t include any cleaning products, despite what U.S. President Donald Trump would have you believe.

The next step was the clinical trials, which the Treighn family excitedly volunteered for. “She’s been doing this stuff in school for three years, right? What could ever go wrong?” said Treighn’s mother.

“I have complete faith in my daughter,” Treighn’s father said with a smile while also shaking his head.

Her younger twin siblings, Kyle and Kyla, said they only agreed to it because their father gave them $20 each. Her youngest brother, Joe said he didn’t even know his sister was in university studying biochemistry.

“She came up with a vaccine but she doesn’t have a boyfriend? What a nerd,” Joe said. Treighn vaccinated her family almost two months ago and said everyone seems to be in good health despite blatantly exposing themselves to the virus literally every day. They’re having large gatherings with people outside of their social bubbles who tested positive for the virus—they really wanted to wish their third cousin’s pet hamster a happy birthday!

“The twins are going to the mall every day because ‘Urban Planet is having a sale,’ and I’m pretty sure Joe came home from school with a different mask on because he traded it for a cooler one,” Treighn said.

To continue testing the vaccine, Treighn is willing to brace herself and get back on the GO Train and subway one last time to look for volunteers. “I’m sure people would be willing to get something injected into their arm from a random girl with a wheely backpack on the subway, right?”

So far, Treighn’s had no luck within the commuter crowd.

Her next step is getting the government to buy into her product and distribute it on a mass scale. “Right now, I’ve only created a solid five. I’m not exactly sure if my basement lab can handle 20 million,” Treighn said.

She’s also considered expanding her lab to the Kerr Hall basement. However, that would require her to commute to campus with her equipment and would take way too long.

“I’d have to make 10 trips back and forth. That’s like 20 hours of just sitting on the trains, if I’m lucky enough to find a seat,” Treighn said. “Even if it meant curing COVID-19 for good, I wouldn’t subject myself to that much commuting.”

Congratulations! If you’re reading this, you’ve made it to the end of the article. Full disclosure: none of what you just read is real. It was satire. Satire is a noun that describes the use of humour, irony, exaggeration, or ridicule to expose and criticize people or institutions.

“I have complete faith in my daughter,” Treighn’s father said with a smile while also shaking his head.

Her younger twin siblings, Kyle and Kyla, said they only agreed to it because their father gave them $20 each. Her youngest brother, Joe said he didn’t even know his sister was in university studying biochemistry.

“She came up with a vaccine but she doesn’t have a boyfriend? What a nerd,” Joe said. Treighn vaccinated her family almost two months ago and said everyone seems to be in good health despite blatantly exposing themselves to the virus literally every day. They’re having large gatherings with people outside of their social bubbles who tested positive for the virus—they really wanted to wish their third cousin’s pet hamster a happy birthday!

“The twins are going to the mall every day because ‘Urban Planet is having a sale,’ and I’m pretty sure Joe came home from school with a different mask on because he traded it for a cooler one,” Treighn said.

To continue testing the vaccine, Treighn is willing to brace herself and get back on the GO Train and subway one last time to look for volunteers. “I’m sure people would be willing to get something injected into their arm from a random girl with a wheely backpack on the subway, right?”

So far, Treighn’s had no luck within the commuter crowd.

Her next step is getting the government to buy into her product and distribute it on a mass scale. “Right now, I’ve only created a solid five. I’m not exactly sure if my basement lab can handle 20 million,” Treighn said.

She’s also considered expanding her lab to the Kerr Hall basement. However, that would require her to commute to campus with her equipment and would take way too long.

“I’d have to make 10 trips back and forth. That’s like 20 hours of just sitting on the trains, if I’m lucky enough to find a seat,” Treighn said. “Even if it meant curing COVID-19 for good, I wouldn’t subject myself to that much commuting.”

Congratulations! If you’re reading this, you’ve made it to the end of the article. Full disclosure: none of what you just read is real. It was satire. Satire is a noun that describes the use of humour, irony, exaggeration, or ridicule to expose and criticize people or institutions.