We’ve heard the rumours.
An underground resistance network … Places like this all over the country. Whenever the humanities are threatened, this is what happens. A kind of withdrawal. It’s like monasteries during the Dark Ages. Keeping the flame of civilization alive.
See, they know the catastrophe’s coming. A great cull. Which they’ll survive underground. It was like those ancient people in Derinkuyu, with their underground city.
The paragraduates 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.
They’re, like, a doomsday cult.
Look, they’ve left the world, the paragrads. 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.
It’s a whole ethos. It’s a way of life. Like, a last form of life. For the endless end times.
Work in Progress 