The Country from Hell
"It's yours!" you gasp, practically throwing the crumpled bill at the driver as you slide quickly inside, locking the door behind you. The Control Officer, seeing that he doesn't stand a chance, looks sad for a moment as you pull away in a cloud of exhaust. You almost feel badly for him. He won't make his quota today. He's just another asshole trying to get by in the world, after all.
The cabby doesn't say another word to you as he pulls over at the next street corner, staring coldly at you in the rearview mirror. His eyes are blue and icy. Maybe he's a Frosty.
Stepping out of his car, your feeling of elation at having escaped the Control begins to melt away as you realize that you are now totally penniless and still quite far from the University. If it were any hotter, you'd be on Venus.
You're also in a bad part of town. Wait, who are you kidding? All of Klo is a bad part of town. But this area is particularly blighted, with weeds growing through every crack in the sidewalk and the unemployed population loitering around with sweaty beers in hand. Out of every window blares that syncopated Turkish shit that is the true delineator of the lower classes. A hundred different songs mix in the air to make an unbearable cacophony, quickening your step despite the heat that tugs at your pant cuffs. This stupid music is one of the things Iadians are known for abroad. Any neighborhood blasting the shit is sure to be full of pimps, hookers and petty criminals. Your family may be dirt poor, but you like to think you've maintained a degree of dignity through all the miserable years
When you finally reach the University area, you are drenched in sweat. You pull your shirt open and tug at the pants that seem glued with slime against your legs. A beautiful girl walking by in a green miniskirt looks disgustedly at you. Bitch.
Not feeling at all lucky, you rush up to the School of Engineering where you can already see some guys gathered around a long white list posted to the side of the building. You chose to go for engineering because the school is the most modern at the University; it could actually pass for a Western building, standing out like a little diamond amongst the dreary blocks. You also got good grades in math. So why not become an engineer?
Walking up nonchalantly, you feel a little stab of panic. You didn't expect that. You've been training yourself all your life not to give a fuck what happens because things will just happen the way they're going to happen anyway. That's life. Scanning quickly for your last name, you find it is not there. It figures. You knew it already. The only pity is that you lost all your money and sweat out your guts just to find this out. You see the building is open and decide to go in for your scores. If you got a really low grade, you can brag about your brilliant failure at the pub tonight.
The girl at the desk looks bored and barely looks at you as she hands you the familiar envelope containing your test. When you open it, you are shocked to see "9.5" written in the corner.
"Excuse me, miss," you say politely to the girl in the hopes of charming her out of her apathy. "Is this my score?"
"Obviously," she responds, darting her eyes immediately back to her busywork.
"But I thought anything over an 8 passed."
"I don't know, you'll have to talk to my boss."
"Okay. Where is he?"
"He's not here."
"When will he be back?"
"I don't know."
"Thanks for your help."
"Next "
Stepping outside again, you feel a little dazed. An unrelenting bitter taste lingers in your mouth and you can feel the pulse beating at your temples. Something isn't right here. Someone has screwed you. Not like you're not used to it. Iadians screw each other for both business and pleasure. But this is just hmmm maybe a beer or twenty would help. But you're broke. You amble aimlessly down the sidewalk in no particular direction, but then you stop. You just can't get this feeling off your back. You turn around again and face the engineering building. You can't just walk home. Not after all this. You
The cabby doesn't say another word to you as he pulls over at the next street corner, staring coldly at you in the rearview mirror. His eyes are blue and icy. Maybe he's a Frosty.
Stepping out of his car, your feeling of elation at having escaped the Control begins to melt away as you realize that you are now totally penniless and still quite far from the University. If it were any hotter, you'd be on Venus.
You're also in a bad part of town. Wait, who are you kidding? All of Klo is a bad part of town. But this area is particularly blighted, with weeds growing through every crack in the sidewalk and the unemployed population loitering around with sweaty beers in hand. Out of every window blares that syncopated Turkish shit that is the true delineator of the lower classes. A hundred different songs mix in the air to make an unbearable cacophony, quickening your step despite the heat that tugs at your pant cuffs. This stupid music is one of the things Iadians are known for abroad. Any neighborhood blasting the shit is sure to be full of pimps, hookers and petty criminals. Your family may be dirt poor, but you like to think you've maintained a degree of dignity through all the miserable years
When you finally reach the University area, you are drenched in sweat. You pull your shirt open and tug at the pants that seem glued with slime against your legs. A beautiful girl walking by in a green miniskirt looks disgustedly at you. Bitch.
Not feeling at all lucky, you rush up to the School of Engineering where you can already see some guys gathered around a long white list posted to the side of the building. You chose to go for engineering because the school is the most modern at the University; it could actually pass for a Western building, standing out like a little diamond amongst the dreary blocks. You also got good grades in math. So why not become an engineer?
Walking up nonchalantly, you feel a little stab of panic. You didn't expect that. You've been training yourself all your life not to give a fuck what happens because things will just happen the way they're going to happen anyway. That's life. Scanning quickly for your last name, you find it is not there. It figures. You knew it already. The only pity is that you lost all your money and sweat out your guts just to find this out. You see the building is open and decide to go in for your scores. If you got a really low grade, you can brag about your brilliant failure at the pub tonight.
The girl at the desk looks bored and barely looks at you as she hands you the familiar envelope containing your test. When you open it, you are shocked to see "9.5" written in the corner.
"Excuse me, miss," you say politely to the girl in the hopes of charming her out of her apathy. "Is this my score?"
"Obviously," she responds, darting her eyes immediately back to her busywork.
"But I thought anything over an 8 passed."
"I don't know, you'll have to talk to my boss."
"Okay. Where is he?"
"He's not here."
"When will he be back?"
"I don't know."
"Thanks for your help."
"Next "
Stepping outside again, you feel a little dazed. An unrelenting bitter taste lingers in your mouth and you can feel the pulse beating at your temples. Something isn't right here. Someone has screwed you. Not like you're not used to it. Iadians screw each other for both business and pleasure. But this is just hmmm maybe a beer or twenty would help. But you're broke. You amble aimlessly down the sidewalk in no particular direction, but then you stop. You just can't get this feeling off your back. You turn around again and face the engineering building. You can't just walk home. Not after all this. You
You have 2 choices:
- demand an explanation for this injustice. Head toward your friend Wiggy's house. His father works in the engineering department and could probably tell you exactly what happened here.
- absolutely must get drunk. Go find some unsuspecting foreigners in a trendy bar and find a way onto their tab. The day is a lost cause. Might as well flush it definitively down the toilet.