Congratulations on Perfecting the Vaccine!

You’re a scientist and you’ve been working non-stop for the last three months to develop a vaccine against a virus which turns people into fucking retards. The virus took a while to be detected, because its spread entirely through television broadcasts of NASCAR (Heyo!). It’s very Snow Crash, really.

Anyhow, the majority of people on earth have become quasi-retarded slaves who buy whatever they’re told and accept ideas blindly. Only you and the maybe five perfect of the population who still read will be unaffected.

You’ll live in cold, mountainous regions where sleeveless shirts are no longer comfortable attire, and largely keep to yourselves in small, self-sufficient communities that utilize tried and true agricultural techniques and tolerance in order to survive.

Of course The Suits™ who run the show won’t like that one bit. You’ll still make up a nice chunk of their target demo, and they’ll want it bad. See, they think you have more money than the slobs they’ve already enthralled and they’d like to “leverage that market share.” Their words, not ours.

Occasionally a moron patrol will wander into your territory, but since you’re capable of rational thought and they’re not you usually either convince them you don’t exist or shoot them in the face from concealed positions, then hide the bodies.

Most of the world will come to see your lands as haunted. But The Suits will know the truth, and they’ll slowly be encouraging the general populace to begin a campaign against you. They’re imprinting new messages into NASCAR reruns and Fox shows, and before long they’ll have an army on your doorstep.

Since you’re all so fucking smart you and your society-mates have long since figured this out, and have been working on a cure for idiocy. You tried to come up with a better name, but you really couldn’t. Anyways, it seemed appropriate, even if it was a bit literal.

You’ve been doing most of your research at the fringes of your society in order to allow you easy access to infected specimens and decrease the risk of an infection devastating a settlement if someone drops a beaker, but (of course) The Suits managed to find your facility, and they guessed what was up.

Most of your buddies will have been fighting them off tooth and nail while you sat down like it was crunch time, dropped some Adderol and scienced the living shit out the virus. Twelve dead infected and one splitting headache later, you’ll have the antidote in a vial on your desk.

Then the hot female soldier you’ve been banging who used to be an aspiring English major Before is going to burst in covered in blood and tell you that the morons have breached the outer perimeter. You’ll nod, unplug your sleek, sexy Macbook Pro, seal the vial and get out of there, humanity’s last hope tucked inside your messenger bag.

Congratulations on perfecting the vaccine, by the way. Now all you have to do is develop a delivery method and you’ll be able to undo most of the damage NASCAR has done.