The "boss" laughs even harder at your reaction, throwing his head back and exposing his filthy neck. "Aw, c'mon! It ain't that bad! You should try it sometime. It's da latest fad in dis here part of town." He pauses for a moment, wiping tears from the corners of his eyes. "So, whatcha want to do? You wanna join up or what?"

You notice several other individuals nearby watching your exchange with interest. One of them, sporting an elaborate set of dreadlocks held together by twigs and string, nods encouragingly at you.

As you turn your back on the "boss" and his followers, muttering something about "idiots," you can't help but feel a sense of disbelief wash over you. This isn't the America you knew; this is some twisted shadow of its former self. And yet, somehow, it seems to be working for these people. They've found their own way to survive and thrive in this chaotic new world.

The once-pristine university campus has been transformed into a ramshackle settlement, with makeshift shelters constructed from scavenged materials lining the paths between crumbling buildings. The few students you encounter stare at you as you pass, their curiosity mixed with equal parts fear and awe. You overhear snippets of conversations about "wakey-makers," "worky-money," and "fancy pants school."