“I did the testing, but the results are not meant for me. I must now travel to the West, into the Private Sector.” said the PhD at their graduation party.

A desolate wasteground of nothingness washed over the land, leaving nothing but apathy and desolation in its wake. The postdoc picked up a fallen fence post and sharpened it into spear. "These are dark times" they whispered, and set off back up the mountain, picking up the charred remains of the bridge to their former lab and pulling on the thin whisps of job strings dangled carelessly at random from the sky, sometimes doing nothing other than pulling the stormy sky down further to the ground.