Pyramids of Paranoia (Chapter 1)

He sat down on a beige sofa while some frat boys attempted to throw a brutal analist rapist from the balcony. They were on the twenty-second floor, and Ivan, terrified of heights, was much too scared to watch.

Ivan felt a deep discomfort, like he was slowly being swallowed by the absurdity and cruelty of this place. The frat boys were gone, vanished like they had never existed, leaving only the bizarre remnants of violence and confusion. His gaze shifted from the balcony where he had last seen them--where their brutal act unfolded--to the urban sprawl below, but he couldn't make sense of it anymore. Everything was surreal and distant, the world as if through a distorted lens.

He looked back at the table where his name stared back at him from the cover of a book, Psycho Path. Was this some cruel joke? An omen? The words taunted him, sinking deep into the pit of his gut. He wanted to leave, but his body felt tethered, as if the very fabric of this bizarre reality had locked him in place.

Soon after, he found himself walking along a sidewalk, surrounded by the garish neon glow of casinos and clubs. The sidewalks seemed to stretch endlessly in all directions, as if the very concept of distance had warped around him. The bustling chaos of it all contrasted sharply with the grim, lifeless air of the community college he was now approaching. The closer he got, the darker it became, as though the light itself was being drained out of the world.

The beige and gray structures that made up the campus loomed ahead, resembling ancient pyramids--a fitting metaphor for the oppressive atmosphere they exuded. The other students shuffled in alongside him, lifeless and automatic, their flashlights cutting weak beams into the darkness. Ivan followed, not knowing what else to do, just as he had followed the frat boys earlier, though now he was drawn more by some invisible force than fear or curiosity.

Inside the pyramid-like building, everything became stranger. The flickering fluorescent lights painted the walls in a disorienting strobe effect, revealing grotesque murals that Ivan could hardly stand to look at. Images of abuse, aliens, and horror flashed before his eyes, but he had no time to dwell on them. The group was moving, fast, and Ivan knew he had to keep up.

They finally came to a stop at classroom B808, where the students in perfect unison retrieved their textbooks. Ivan didn't have one, and the anxiety of being unprepared surged in him like a wave. He glanced at the title: The Rich and Poor: West or East? A wave of nausea washed over him, the title alone already reeking of ideological filth. When they all began to recite the line, "The poverty of Heaven is a child's paradise," it felt more like a ritual than a lesson.

The fluorescent lights flickered in rhythm with their eerie chant, and Ivan's thoughts spiraled again. He forced himself to speak, to break the illusion. "Hi, I'm Ivan. I'm new. Do you know where I can buy the textbook you're all reading?"

One of the students, a woman with magenta glasses, barely acknowledged him. Her tone was robotic. "We're studying for a test. The class will be starting soon." She handed him her copy of the textbook without a word of explanation.

Ivan's fingers trembled as he opened it, his eyes scanning the first few sentences. Each word felt like a slap to his already fragile psyche. The textbook's vile rhetoric was a caricature of hate, dressed in academic pretension. "Western decline is wholly attributable to immigration from communist and third-world shitholes," it read, and Ivan's stomach churned. The text went on, demonizing entire populations, perpetuating racist and xenophobic ideologies.