A transmission from NYU - Andromeda Galaxy, November 9th, 4020.

Re: A Brief Note On Methodology, Also Someone Come Rescue Me Please

The following work was primarily compiled from 4016 through 4018, spanning the first two years after I completed my undergraduate degree. This research was completely unrelated to my degree, which has been of no use to me whatsoever. (To be fair, neither has this research.) Using my old university ID, I pored through instant message records in the most classified sections of the library, cross-referencing fact against myth with very little hope of finding conclusive...um, conclusions. It is now as ready to be published as it will ever be.

I am unable to submit this story to thesis defense, as my advisor and most other professors here are currently dead or horrifically dying, but from my near-empty graduate housing on the outskirts of Andromeda Galaxy I have beamed these chapters out for anyone across the teeming, lonely expanse of humanity to receive. My only remaining hope for this wretched life I have been given is that there is someone out there willing and able to receive them. Also that they could hopefully send a rescue shuttle my way after they've finished reading. And of course, I hold out hope that this kind stranger won't forget to like and subscribe.

This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

I know that I have risked dating this research by publishing it past its prime--considering the current political climate, there may be more relevant scholarship right now than the story of a handful of 20-somethings desperately trying to hold onto love while entropy, global systems of domination, and their own neuroses are trying to tear them apart. But I don't think I can lay down on my dorm room floor and die without knowing I've sent this final missive to the void. From this state of total social isolation, I need one last communication with my fellow humans. Reader, I need you.

What follows is a combination of research, deduction, and shameless emotional projection on historical figures. When I read it, I hear a younger version of myself writing, one with oddly more and less hope than I have now. There are times when I think the work is completely unsalvageable, and times when I think this is the only meaningful thing I've accomplished in my time in this universe. In the end that is for you, the reader, to decide. Please message me as soon as you can, to let me know what you decide.

Graduate Sergeant Tenacity Plys, PhD Third Class

TL;DR: Everyone is dying, please read this fanfiction I wrote about my own characters.