Jane Wainwright pushed open the double doors with a grunt and stepped out of her ageing University building. She stretched, feeling her back and shoulders crack as she shook three hours of sitting on the vaguely shaped slabs of wood that Bath University called seats. She smiled at the thought that it was over, at last. That was her last exam for her Architectural Technology degree. Her coursework was long since done. All she had to do was sit back and wait to see if she was top of the class or if it was Darrell. Not that it mattered, it would be her 8th bachelors, and Architecture is boring! No, it was finally time to move on and get a Masters degree, and then her Doctorate. In Material Sciences, a far more interesting field, she might even use her Doctorate! She chuckled to herself, probably not though.

The 44-year old brunette had spent over 20 years in higher education, and also possessed an impressive collection of other licences, diplomas, and assorted training. Her parents both died when she was 19, and studying Theoretical Mathematics, leaving her to inherit enough money and assets that she wouldn't ever need to work and could easily pay endless uni fees.

"What are you planning next then?" came the strangely squeaky voice of Darrell Harrowtem. He was a hard man to describe, her rival for the top of the class. But if she had to, Jane would probably call him ruggedly effeminate. A strange mix of broad shoulders, a tiny waist, deep piercing eyes, and the mouth and chin of a supermodel.A female supermodel. Not that Jane was jealous or anything, she was perfectly content with being "Plain Jane''. Average height, average build, average everything. It was rather unfair really, despite her father being a Japanese businessman she had inherited exactly zero exotic features from him. She didn't even get a cool exotic-sounding name that no one could spell or pronounce, as her late father was an extreme Anglophile, or reverse weeb, as she liked to tease him, that he had his name changed to Jim Wainwright when he moved to England in his early twenties. Jane had toyed with the idea of taking up her father's original name, but as she looked so aggressively Caucasian she eventually decided it wasn't worth the effort, a thought that was solidified all the more when he suddenly died.

"Well, as you know I'm starting my Masters in September, but this summer I'm learning to sail in the Caribbean. A sailboat is probably the only vehicle I can't drive yet, that and spaceships."

Darrell shook his head and let out a soft chuckle, "we really live different lives, don't we? And for reference, by "we" I mean all the other students." He smiled and added "No offence."

Jane shook her head, then flicked a lock of her long brown hair out of her eye, "Don't worry, I've known since long before my parents fell ill that I was never going to be poor or to struggle. I won't apologise but I don't care when people point it out either. It's true, I can do whatever I want, pretty much whenever I want. The downside, if you can call it that, is that I don't know what I want." She paused and gave him a wry smile, "of course most of you won't be poor for long, at least a quarter of the class have jobs lined up, provided you pass."

"How could you know that?" Darrell said, confused.

Jane gave him a smirk and turned to leave. "Seeing as I don't want a job, what do you think I said to all the recruiters who called looking for the top of the class?". She shifted her bag on her shoulder and started to leave.

Before she had reached the gate Darrell finally found a reply, "TELL THEM THEY GOT THE WRONG NUMBER AND GIVE THEM MINE!"

Jane snorted as she left the university campus and turned into the street. Bath was an old city, dating back to the Romans, who built a city around the eponymous baths, a natural spring of foul-smelling water said to have healing virtues. People still came from miles around to bathe in the stinky waters despite the lack of effect. But hey, the tourism industry wasn't going to complain. Jane stood just in front of the university gates, drinking in the hustle and bustle of Bath before she left for the Caribbean, and then Cambridge for her Masters.

It was time to move on. Not much mind you, just on to a Masters, and back in Cambridge where she was born to boot. But progress is progress. With a determined nod and a shift of her bag, she was off. She stepped into the flow of traffic letting herself be almost dragged along by the crowd as she planned her baggage for summer. She didn’t notice the crowd parting in front of her, nor did she see the strange-looking man barreling towards her. Too late she snapped out of her exotic reverie, too late to avoid the accidental shoulder charge. The short, stocky man hit her hard, hard enough to lift her off the ground before gravity reasserted itself, dragging her back down towards the unforgiving pavement. She lost consciousness before she even hit the ground.