on mental health, fiction-as-place and dumbass video games — February 2020. Atop a sea of distinctly non-colourful heads, Lucien O’Neale struts to the front of the school hall and swiftly silences the crowd. Like all fascists, he is annoyingly well-dressed. He begins a familiar speech reminding us of our innumerable failures, with all the force of a military rant…