The lecture enraptured me. Not all lectures had to lull your brain into inactivity rather than as intended. There's a method to avoid giving off those signals that put even the wary to sleep, but I wouldn't know it myself. The professor, a graying gentleman wearing wide rimmed glasses and bow tie straight out of last century, looked at first the old coot who also fibbed as much. Until the words that came out of his mouth sounded like a reconstruction of all the economic texts I'd ever read, building blocks for a near utopia. Keynes, Malthus, Ricardo, Smith, all channeled their spirits into one man's utterance, bridging the pure ideals of yesteryear, an age closer to when my senior professor was born, to our increasingly twisted present world I must now learn to preside over its corruptible systems. Until now, my teachers were neither educated nor skeptical in their approach to fill my mind with the mainstream propaganda my mind could already, inevitably sponge from listening to some daft BBC news. The only commonality was still having to weed out the liberal agenda stuck down both the government’s and most British educational institutions' pants, Thames' Edge being no exception.

No worries. If there's one thing to take from online meme culture to the real world, anything can be co-opted for any political platform. Anything.

[hr]A buzzing in my pocket breaks me from my post-class reverie. I pull out my mobile, fully expecting the contact name across the screen. What's she gone and twisted her knickers for now?

[b]"Yeah Mum?"[/b]

"Tommy, how have you settled down over there in London? Alright?"

[b]"Yeah. That's all you're asking?"[/b]

"Actually, I have a few issues I need to discuss with you."

I roll my eyes, and sink my body and mind into cushier depths, in preparation for a long one.

[b]"Go on then."[/b]

"Your Dad's secured another interview, but the site's a bit ways out of the city on the outskirts, about 40 to 45 minutes driving. Have you calculated the portion of our expenses to maintain the car?"

[b]"Not for that amount of time on a one way trip, no. But if the wages are worth enough, you can dig a bit into our nest egg just this month,"[/b] I sigh, and go into lengthy detail how high those wages should be exactly to justify the added expense, the price trend of petrol in Birmingham to predict sustainability, and petrol stations located along the route to the job site Mum describes, with the help of our Google overlords. I plug in my earbuds to swipe on the screen while speaking, which pick up the faint, hurried scratching of a pen. At least she's better than Dad's bold attempts at memorizing ledgers like limericks, with the part of his brain that isn't fossilized yet.

"Right on, now the pantry we frequent the most has been facing shortages, so they say."

I tap on the mobile screen inadvertently, before replying, [b]"There's no way around it. Once they're out, you can buy your favorite veggies at the greengrocer, only if on sale. At least I won't need you to cook my meals now. But that job Dad's found better be worth more than enough."[/b]

"True enough. Oh, and one more thing, the dryer's broken down again."

[b]"Oh for fock's sake!"[/b]

The exclamation leaves my throat before I glance around, catching the curious eyes of a couple passersby. Then I hunch forward, pinching the bridge of my nose harder than the burning sensation of my cheeks, [b]"It's the same part that keeps getting loose, wait for Dad to get home, he'll know."[/b]

"But your Dad's business clothes are inside, I need them dried and ironed by tomorrow for the interview."

[b]"Well I don't know what to do all the way from London, maybe ask the bloody neighbors for once, they can already guess our situation anyways."[/b]

A long silence follows. If I were at home, I could excuse myself to my room to cool my head. But here, 2 hours away from Birmingham, a phone was my only efficient connection to close the distance between my family and I. Disconnecting from it would be leaving them to hang, without the pulse I provide to keep my Mom and Dad in stable conditions.

"...I'm sorry Tommy, I should start learning all the little things you used to do for me while you were around."

[b]"I'm...sorry as well, for getting cross at you Mum. I have a lot of things to learn at university myself."[/b]

"That degree you're studying for, Economics was it? Are you sure you can make a living off it after you graduate?"

[b]"Yeah Mum, you'll know when I show you my first paycheck."[/b]

"A ways away that will be."

I finally bid farewell and hang up. Somehow I feel drowsy, a little more exhausted than right after class. I stand up from my seat outside the lecture theater it was held, and resolve to head back to my flat. Maybe a nap before next class should be in order.

The steps I take on the way amplify the symptoms of sleepiness. First my eyes droop, then my shoulders fall forward, my feet drag across the ground in a shuffle, and numbness begins to set in from my fingertips. I barely jam them into the door handle of the student accommodation building, and tug it open before slipping in, just to collapse on the floor. My eyes voluntarily close to shut out the nauseating visions of the world swimming around me. The next I open them, I look up to see foreboding walls protrude in all directions like a jagged jigsaw, and through the formerly glass doors a scene of nothing but gray, unyielding fog.