The postgraduates know a catastrophe’s coming. A great cull. Which they’ll survive underground. It was like those ancient people in Derinkuyu, with their underground city.
The postgraduates know what they’re planning – the enemy. They’re prepping. They’ve got this a vast secret pantry, stacked with tins. With sacks of lentils.
Underground: that’s where PhD students go when they don’t want to finish. When they’ve given up trying to get on in the academic world – to publish their work. To get research fellowships.
They’ve left the world, the underground PhD students. They’ve taken their leave. Renounced everything, Written letters to their loved ones, explaining. They’re like those Indian ascetics who have a mock funeral before they take up the mendicant life.
They’ve trained themselves in all kinds of things, the underground PhD students. Close combat. Akido – all that fancy stuff with sticks. They can see in the dark, pretty much. And read with the tips of their fingers.
Are they working on telekinesis. Because that would be useful.
Why?
They could steer the bore. Reverse it. Let it drill upwards. Drill away at the roots of the campus towers.
Our postgraduates know they can go underground, when the time comes. They know they can take the vow. Disappear.
Perhaps the underground postgraduates know a way to defeat all this. Perhaps they know a way to bring down the towers.
So let’s contact them. Contact Nimrod. Can you do that, postgraduates?
Postgraduates, shrugging.
Help us help you. Because if we don’t, the Organisational Managers will destroy you.
Do the organisational managers know about the tunnels?
They’re building tunnels of their own. Their own catacombs. The Organisational Management campus goes as deep as it does high.
Work in Progress 