>... you walk into a room and you see the newly advertised pod (//hasn’t social made you watch children and adults alike watch the short clips of tide pods circulate the net and imprint into your brain?) Do you want to take it? [yes.] [no.] Statistics show that they’re safe for children to consume, they aren’t actually smoking nictotine which has been proven to be addictive and shit for your lungs. A hand reaches out, and he wonders if this is what a migraine feels like. A pulsing at the temple, simulating nerve endings and overworking the flow with that aggravating thump thump thump. [YES.] He’s run diagnostics on the systems he’s created and so far, the only thing he’s ever personally tailored for PERSONAL_FILE.cmd was what the public showed adolescence puffing on; a fucking juul. . . . EXCEPT(it was made to be more lethal then what the company put out) it only made sense that the technical boy had all access to the company, right down to the fucking patented logo (//media’s**** WORLDS>?****)
>...YOU PUFF ON THE METAL TUBE, INSIDE OF WHICH SITS A FROG COATED IN POISONOUS NOXIOUS FUMES THAT TURNS THE SMOKE A DARK YELLOW. IT TASTES OF WIRES AND METAL, THE TISSUE ON YOUR LUNGS AND TONGUE SIZZLING TO A BLACK, CHARRED STATE YOU FIND COMFORTING. THE WORLD AROUND YOU AND THE MEAT RESIDING IN IT, STOP AND TURN AWAY FROM THE SCREENS TO TURN THEIR NOSES IN THE AIR.
[WHAT DO YOU DO?]
>... you are, for a moment, aware of the eyes on you. The smell reminds him of the metal frames holding a corporation, melting down into one another, tumbling under the weight. A communications tower short circuit wiring and metal strands of data unravel into a burning pool of lighter fluid; the world they’ve created going dark one pixel at a time.
>...YOU FEEL THE EFFECTS OF THE JUUL HIT YOUR BLOODSTREAM AND FOR A SECOND YOU ARE OK WITH THE STATE OF YOUR EXISTENCE... [YES?] [NO?]
>...he snarls, his upper lip curling as he stalks out of the nightclub. The children have found him, Shadow Moon.
>...DON’T FUCK WITH ME.