The School of Physics, located more or less in the centre of Fadden University of Technology, had a very nasty habit of attracting things, and not merely rich foreign students, death threats from previously rich, and now somewhat poorer and not necessarily better educated foreign students and passing commentary from the local newspaper, on particularly slow news days, proclaiming that the School was leading the world in whatever the hell kind of research it was supposed to be engaged in. It seemed to possess some unique and inexplicable property that caused large objects to crash into it.
Light aircraft, for example. It had collected three of these in the past month. There had also been a large removal truck, which had somehow steered its way through the campus (the official police report indicated the driver was asleep at the wheel), being careful to not so much as scrape any other structure, and embedded itself neatly in the main entrance of the physics building, destroying part of the building's superstructure in the process. Ironically, this was the final straw for the senior lecturers, who promptly decided to pack up and move to a new building on the outer edge of the campus. Their frustration only increased when it became clear that the removal truck could not be removed from the main entrance (which was the only one large enough for many of the physicists' unwieldy experimental apparatuses to fit through in one piece). At least, not without the building collapsing. Instead they gave into dismembering their projects, and lugging the pieces across campus themselves, pausing briefly to give an extremely nasty look at the removal truck that could have partly solved the problem, if only it wasn't the problem to begin with.
Insurance companies had long since given up on the site. The building was now used mostly by the engineering students, who were constantly testing and re-testing the structural integrity by, for example, measuring the vibrations in the upper floors when they smashed the remaining windows of the removal truck. Interestingly, the building plus the removal truck, despite having undergone only a superficial cleanup job ever since The First Incident, appeared to be perfectly stable.
A hard day's experimental aparatus repositioning had given the team of scientists working under Professor Ivan Wophlski new insights into the murky depths of theoretical physics. The professor himself had been engaged in mild contemplation regarding the radial pattern formed by the four collisions sustained by the old physics building. The wrecked, burnt-out fuselages of the three aircraft had all long since been taken away, but that didn't prevent him wondering - and worrying - about the fact that they all seemed to be aimed at his office. His attention, however, was refocused on more important matters by the tireless petitioning of several other scientists, who the professor recognised, after several minutes of wading back through the recesses of his overloaded mind, as being decidedly irritable. They endowed him with a startling revelation.
It was undeniable, and immediately his colleagues agreed: the Theory of Everything had to be encoded in the molecular structure of the cardboard in a pizza box from Dennis's Pizzaria. Neither the physicists' taste for cheap notionally-Italian food nor the curiously (and possibly illegally) addictive nature of Dennis's particular variety had anything to do with it, of course, and such speculation would have, at that approximate moment, been met with such scorn and derision as to liquify the brain of any hapless individual having made the mistake of being so curious. Not that anyone in the vicinity showed the slightest indication of a willingness to argue the point, in any case.
After meeting with Dennis, during which it was established that he was in fact the owner of Dennis's Pizzaria and not, as had been generally suspected given his sheer volume, the customer, the scientists were allowed to briefly examine some of his pizza boxes. That is, after having thoroughly disposed of the contents which they had somehow failed to insist be left out. Possibly the oil from the pizzas had a subtle effect on the cardboard which nevertheless had important implications for the fine-tuning of complex integrals relating to the structure of n-dimensional space-time, but by that time no one really cared terribly much, and the unspoken consensus seemed to be that n-dimensional space-time could bloody well bugger off and take its complex integrals with it.
This was, on the whole, rather a shame. Though it would never enter the history books of any species worth talking about, Professor Wophlski's team had just, unknowingly, come closer to discovering the ultimate secret of the universe than anyone else within a radius of more than ten billion light years, and more to the point, had done it in style.