As Gregor Samsa awoke one morning from uneasy dreams, he found himself transformed into a monstrous insect. What has happened to me? he thought. Then, more importantly, was this an exceptional circumstance that would significantly affect his short-term academic performance in an assessment task? He began to wonder whether this would be accepted by the Special Considerations Office at all. Does unexplained transformation, metaphorical or otherwise, count as an illness or as misadventure? Would it be accepted at all without a statutory declaration, which he seemed incapable of signing due to his lack of human fingers?
He supposed it would be prudent to attend the exam regardless, and to fill out any paperwork another time. This approach was dashed by the realisation that he would no longer resemble his student ID. There was little hope of pity from an invigilator. The Student Centre certainly wouldn’t be able to issue a new student card anytime soon, on account of them being closed. They’ve always been closed.
What a complex web of bureaucracy Gregor had found himself in, entirely alienated by a faceless authority that he had no power to shift nor navigate. If only there was a word to describe it. He resolved that it was a bit fucked up, and probably easier to just drop the subject.
