Petra was nervous about her semester abroad at Philosophocle. For one thing, she knew almost nothing about this new school. The exchange program she'd signed up for had assigned her this school without providing any background information. Googling had turned up nothing beyond the existence and general location of the school. And so she disembarked a bus onto campus to find the Student Activities Center with no clear idea of what to expect.
It is chilly outside. The wind blusters through the trees as if to announce the beginning of fall.
A group of about twenty students smile and wave at everyone disembarking from the bus. They catch people's eyes and call out at them.
"Greetings, Greta!"
"Hey Jula!"
"Yo, Asteroid!"
"Hello, Newbee!"
"Hi, Shai!"
Some of the people stand confused, and others speed up walking past the wavers. The last person startles and runs the other way.
A red-cheeked boy wearing all brown, topped with an acorn-shaped cap catches Petra's eye.
"Hello, Petra!"
"Campus is that-a-way," the acorn-capped boy says, pointing across the bridge where many of the former bus-riders are headed. It's clear why the bus stopped here: the road narrows to a footbridge over a swiftly-flowing river.
After pointing, he resumes waving.
"Bye!" the acorn-capped boy says, before turning to another student. "Hello...!"
There is a sign in front of the bridge: You walk now on the bridge that those before you have built over the River of Knowledge.
Taped to the sign is piece of paper handwritten in marker, Ignorance is bliss, with a U-turn arrow on it. As Petra watches, the wind blows it away into the river.
Midway over the bridge, Petra hears the wood planks rumbling and then a chorus of bells. "Oh no, it's the Bikers," says an old, grizzled-looking student, and it is clear from their tone of voice that these are the Bikers, not any bikers.
A group of ten Bikers whiz by on bicycles, setting the wood seriously rattling. They are all wearing green helmets and green jackets emblazoned with PLANT POWER on the back, each embroidered with a different fruit or vegetable. One of them take a brochure from their basket and drops it into Petra's hand as they pass.
"I'll recycle that for you," the grizzled student says. They are wearing a shirt that says, "Have you tried Agnosticism?" They have a paper bag which appears to be full of brochures. "And of course, report this to the proper authorities." They point to a sign on the bridge which says, No soliciting.
"Ah, you mean the Physicalists? They believe that a good life is full of vigorous exercise, especially with well-defined roles within their tribe, in competition with other tribes."
"Let's walk," the agnostic continues, "It's not wise to loiter on the bridge."
"Ah, no. I have also played basketball on occasion. It is nice to return to a state of us versus them, but on a playing field where no one gets hurt. The thrill of being united with my team watching the ball pass through the enemy's hoop..." The agnostic has a wistful look in their eyes.
"You may feel free to dip your toes in as many informal clubs as you want, or even attend introductory meetings of registered clubs. Indeed, I encourage it. But be careful of committing to membership. After all, the food that they lay out at their welcome events may not be the same food that they feed you later on."
They arrive at the other side of the river. A road leads uphill, and another follows the river to the left. A street sign shows that they are the Path of Progress and the Path of Learning, respectively.
There are buildings to either side. The one on the left side looks run-down, and the letters on the front appear to read GuM, though another glance shows that the "u" is in fact a Y missing its tail.