Kevin sat at the sparse desk. Typewriter in front of him, he starred at the sheet of paper, contemplating how he was going to answer the prompt. The wrong answer and Kevin would be kept in the asylum for the rest of his life, the correct answer and he could go live free (well, as free as the government allowed).
He tapped his fingers on the desk in no particular rhythm, trying to find the correct answer. The ideas of death, disease, overpopulation, corruption, poverty, suicide, hunger, class, race, and gender swirled in his head.
"I know the answer. I attended the National School for Orphan Boys for a reason," said Kevin aloud. Frightened that the "doctors" may hear him, Kevin returned to his thoughts.
Kevin fed the off-white paper into the typewriter. Fingers poised over the keyboard, Kevin waited, waited for inspiration.
Reading the prompt one last time, Kevin gave up. Smashing the typewriter over his head, Kevin fell to the ground, tired of having to think about the sustainability of consumer capitalism.