By: The Peak’s lead undercover journalist and Big Pedometer’s least loyal employee

Our story starts on a Tuesday that felt like a Thursday — existentially, spiritually, atmospherically. A brave student (name classified, as she’s currently in hiding from TransLink and her midterm results) embarked on what should have been a simple journey from class. She boarded the 145, already daydreaming about Pedro Pascal TikTok edits. But as the bus jerked to a halt at Production Way, the driver turned, eyes haunted, and gestured towards the SkyTrain station. Just like that, our commuter had become a subject. 

For those blessed never to make the pilgrimage, here’s the sitch: there are 435 steps to the Production Way-University SkyTrain station from where the 145 Production Way drops you off. Yes, we counted. That’s 0.6% of Camino de Santiago, the length of one Doechii song, and at least three existential monologues narrated by Phoebe Bridgers. 

Why? Why are students being forced to descend into the concrete canyon separating the 145 bus stop from the Production Way-University SkyTrain station like Frodo trekking into Mordor with only his active U-Pass to save him from Gollum? 

According to unnamed sources (a guy on Reddit, a girl in a situationship with a TransLink intern, and one suspiciously knowledgeable pigeon), this is no mere transit oversight. No, this is a covert psychological operation. A psyop so intricate, Kafka would’ve dropped out. Documents (read: screenshots) obtained by The Peak reveal a shadowy partnership between TransLink, SFU’s psychology department, and Big Pedometer. 

“They’re measuring resilience,” said one anonymous psych major who wore sunglasses indoors and insisted on speaking from under the table. “How many steps before a student snaps? How long before they abandon hope, drop out, and start selling crystals on Etsy? How many shin splints before they lose all earthly attachment and legally become part of the pavement?” 

The experiment was allegedly launched in 2017 after the department received a grant from what one whistleblower describes as “a sentient traffic cone and disgruntled city planners coalition.” 

Your choices as participants are simple, yet cruel: 

1. 1. Tap back into the SkyTrain and become another cog in the Compass Card machine. 
   2. Cross the street like a lawless vigilante: risking life, limbs, and a $109 jaywalking fine. 
   3. Attempt to find the sacred transit portal hidden in the cracked pavement — a rumoured glowing rune, that if chanted over correctly (in Latin or the voice of a TransLink recording), will summon a snow day in Juneuary. 

The Peak reached out to TransLink for a comment, and they replied with a PDF of all the SkyTrain routes, seven unrelated QR codes, and a scuffed Canva graphic that read, “character development arc starts here.” The Ministry of Transportation and Transit declined to comment. As for SFU’s admin, one representative told us, “Like, what if the struggle is the syllabus?” 

So what now? 

Nothing. The buses stop just far enough to ruin your day, but not your GPA (it was already ruined). The sky rains. The pigeon watches. The Circle K plays its cursed jingle. 

But knowledge is power, and now you know. This isn’t just a commute. It’s a trial by transit. It’s the steps of your discontent. A ritual passage. A hyper-local dystopia. 

So as you take those 435 steps, remember: you are not alone. You are  one of thousands. And the system is watching. Your footsteps are data. Your complaints are metrics. Your suffering, a thesis. Welcome to the experiment! The commute never ends.