Picturing myself in the future: Far in the future… living in a colony underground. Working in the hive as a drone. An accountant… which is really what I am now. I’ve never really called myself that. But, for all intense and porpoises, I am just that. A bean counter… counting all them beans.
Only, in the future, we can’t ever go back outside. Not really. It’s too dangerous. The weather… the weather wants to kill us. That’s why we live underground. The air has to be sent through a bus-sized community lung before it’s safe to breathe and then it’s pumped into our units, mixed with the right amount of laughing gas, i.e., joie de vivre, to keep us in our places and content. That coupled with “the feeder” and we can just dissipate into ourselves with its help: its gleaming cylinder emits frequencies stimulating the amygdala, the pituitary gland, and the nucleus accumbens, resulting in a very enjoyable experience. The problem comes when you have to turn the feeder off and get other things done, because when you “feed” you are in a space between deep sleep and orgasm held at a constant. It will be better than TV or porn ever was. Television and flicks will have been all but forgotten like the archaic, garbage they are. Once THE POWERS THAT BE figure a little more of the brain out, we’re all gonna be in more trouble than we already are.