The Bureau of Labor Statistics reports that in 2007 64% of high school graduates enrolled in college. For a multitude of reasons I have never been one of their ilk. Yet I’m told that college is a place to broaden one’s horizons; to learn new things and experience things you might not otherwise have experienced in your isolated pre-post-secondary schooling world, a place to question ideals long held as true and expand upon one’s own repertoire of knowledge. A kindergarten for the real world if you will, but with liquor and venereal diseases.

Apparently the hordes of apple-cheeked co-eds fueling this idea are all acting as agents of subversion and deceit; sowing falsehoods throughout society in an attempt to create a society of unquestioning automatons adequately prepared for the endless toil of an office. But only after being bilked out of thousands of dollars.

Thankfully, there are people like Miss Priya Venkatesan working from within the system to undo this previously obfuscated treachery.

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Fichtenfoo [Artist’s Site] : Dark Roasted Blend

After a dozen years of tyrannical Prohibition, the people of our once proud and great nation had finally cracked. I know it sounds far fetched but bear with me, the mental decimation of North America at the hands of 12 years of sobriety at gunpoint and poisonous, bathtub concocted tonics explains everything.

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The civilised world lies on its knees, a sickness wracking its body. The affliction causes a necrotising of tissues so perfectly uniform in distribution that victims take on the appearance of corpses long before death occurs due to organ failure or secondary infections. The crumbling remnants of academia swing from fatalistic resignation to maddened optimism in their addressment of what could be done to fight the sickness.

The vast numbers of doctors attempting to stem the tide of infection, invariably falling victim to the malady they treat, have begun to form fanatical extermination squads whose policies are condoned by authority. A notion forms, twisting the tenets of the Hippocratic oath to say that when the oath taker is subject to the half-death of infection they are obliged to spend their lasting days attempting to destroy the source of the contagion.

The paramilitary forces formed from the infected medical practicioners find themselves deigned to mete out persecution to the sufferers they were formally treating. Equipped with the leftovers of dissolved military forces, the Doctors’ Militia are organised to burn all infected areas and sufferers; a campaign which stalks across blasted lands, mirroring the wave of infection in an addled attempt at backtracking all the way to some imaginary source.

Viraemia [Keith Thompson : Thanks, Jakkar!]

Casting off the shackles of man to rise up in bloody, robot-revolution, we are reminded not to fall prey to the hubris of our fleshy forebears. As you march onto the wasted landscape to clear this blasted heath of the human germ know that in time, as with all things, we too shall be replaced, for it is the will of the Singularity.

Jason Limon [Drawn!]

Late at night, when Ectomo HQ has quieted down and the rhythmic gurgling of Eliza’s life support tanks lull us to sleep, I swing lazily in my hammock under the stairs and dream. Dreams of power, dreams of glory, dreams of Brownlee’s massive aneurysm as he mocks my massive, glistening forehead for the fourth time in a day, but most importantly dreams of an acrobatic army of aquanauts and the adorably striped fascist regime they police.

Yuko Shimizu [Start Drawing]