🎭 Scene 3 – Online Job Hunting “Link Not Found”

“Link Not Found”
Based on the original script by the young creators of “You’re Fried!”, now connected to Scene 2 and set in the school computer room.

Fluorescent lighting. The low hum of machines.
A group of young people stand in line, waiting to use one of the school’s computers.
Some are texting friends. Others stare blankly at their phones.

At the front of the line, we recognise the young woman from Scene 2 — the one who asked about studying criminology. She still holds the paper the advisor gave her — a printout with messy rows of URLs and a title that reads “Popular Employment Portals.” The links are barely legible. Some are cut off. Some are already crossed out with pen.

One student sits down at the computer. The screen blinks awake.
But it doesn’t just flash — it speaks.
The computer appears as a human-like figure: sharp suit, customer-service smile, distant eyes.

“Welcome to the National Job Search Interface.
Please state your region and area of interest.”

“Birmingham. Anything local. Full-time or apprenticeship.”

The computer blinks.

“Two matches found in Birmingham, Alabama.
Would you like to expand your search radius by 4,200 miles?”
(Smiles.)

“No, Birmingham UK. I live here!”

“No local results found. Suggesting Glasgow.”

Another student steps forward — a young woman without a CV, nervous but determined.

“Can you just help me? I don’t have a CV but I’m willing to learn.”

“No CV uploaded. Generating basic profile.
Checking personal email… new messages: 3.”

Her eyes light up. She clicks.

Voice (off-screen): “Rejected.”

Next email. She holds her breath.

Voice: “Not enough experience.”

One more. The smile falters.

Voice: “Application error. File corrupted.”

She looks around. No one is laughing, but no one is helping either.
The computer smiles again.

“Better luck next time.
Please return to the end of the queue.”

She stands, defeated, as the next person steps in. The same process starts again.
The young woman with the paper sits down. She types one of the links from the printout — letter by letter. The page doesn’t load.

“404. Page not found.”

She lowers her eyes. Folds the paper. Gets back in line.

This scene exposes the structural cruelty of digital systems in public education spaces: misdirected links, opaque portals, constant failure disguised as “guidance.” The computer appears neutral, but its answers betray a system that doesn’t see the full human — just errors, absences, and mismatches.