As I hear shouting up ahead, I realize I have lingered too long in the village. The demonstrators are being shot. What begun as a protest of the release of Guardians of the Galaxy is now a bloodbath.
I seek refuge in a nearby grate, burrowing downward into the earth, hoping to happen across some public transit. But instead I find myself in an underground conference room, with twenty executives talking quietly. Instead of a table, they sit around a vast aquarium full of colourful fish. Standing in the doorway, I burst into laughter upon realizing the situation. But to my surprise they do not call security, and instead invite me in.
They tell me that if I want to “make it” in this industry, I need to show them what I’m made of. They set a timer, and tell me I need to have all the fish pointing in the same direction. I tell them this is impossible, that a fish’s angle is difficult to control. They tell me that sort of attitude will not get me far, and toss me into the tank.